Page 24 of Tourist Trap

He takes me in for long moments, in a way only my annoying as fuck best friend can, before smiling. “She’s my type. Maybe I should shoot my shot.”

Instantly and without warning, anger flares through me. I open my mouth to…I don’t know, but I’ll probably regret it.

But I don’t have to say a single thing, because Grant’s head tips back, and a deep, full-bellied laugh fills the room.

“Oh, god, you should see your face!” He chuckles, wiping a tear from his eye as he catches his breath.

“Fuck off, man.”

“You are so fucked, you know that right?”

I roll my eyes and ignore him until he changes the topic, but it doesn’t change the fact that he’s completely right.

I am, in fact, so fucked.

* * *

I’m at the shop the next day when an all-too-familiar car pulls up. When she turns off the bright yellow car, Claire opens the door and steps out, a brown paper bag in hand, before slamming it shut behind her.

She’s in a tee that readsWilde Securitythat she’s cut the arms off of and made shorter so it barely covers her belly button and a pair of short jean shorts that should be illegal. The shirt rises to show off her tanned and toned stomach when she lifts her arm to put her sunglasses on top of her head, and I just barely see that she’s wearing a bright pink bathing suit underneath.

“Car trouble?” I ask, stripping off my orange gloves as I make my way toward her, taking off my baseball hat and slipping it around to block the midday sun. She shakes her head and meets me halfway, stopping a foot or so away from me and putting the hand holding the bag out to me.

“Brought you an Italian from Joe’s.” Joe’s is a deli a few blocks inland from the boardwalk that everyone goes to if you want a good sub for the beach.

“You brought me lunch?” I ask, confused.

She shrugs like it’s no big deal.

“I’m off today. June is busy, and Lainey’s doing inventory at work. I figured I’d grab a sandwich at Joe’s, then lay out for the afternoon. But you know how big the sandwiches are, and I didn’t want it to go to waste. I remembered you order the same thing as I do, and so I asked him to split it in two for me.”

A light blush bleeds across her cheeks, and my gut goes warm at the sight.

“He threw in those gross cheddar sour cream chips you like and an iced tea. It’s all in the bag.” She shakes said bag, and slowly, I reach out to grab it, noting it’s pretty heavy.

“They’re not gross,” I say without thinking.

“Barbecue is way better.” It’s an argument we’ve had many times before, and despite myself, I smile, shaking my head. “Anyway, I just wanted to drop that off. I’ll get out of your hair,” she says, stepping backward toward her car.

“You’re not staying?” I ask, quickly pushing down the burst of disappointment that rockets through me.

She smiles wide and shakes her head. “No, I don’t want to bother you too much. Just knew I’d never finish that sandwich myself and figured I’d share.”

It’s a lie. I know it is, just like how I know Joe, despite being a good guy, didn’t just happen to throw in the drink and chips.

Claire did it to be nice.

I sigh and tip my head to the garage. “Come eat with me.”

Her eyes go wide. “You’re inviting me into your lair?” she asks in a stage whisper.

“It’s not a lair; it’s a dirty shop. But we can clear off a spot and eat.” I hesitate, rethinking my offer. “Unless you’re planning to eat on the beach and want to head out. Then?—”

She shakes her head quickly, cutting me off. “No, I’d love to. Sand in sandwiches is the worst.”

Then she turns back to her car to grab her bag, and I find a place to set us up.

Forty minutes later, I’ve dragged out eating a sandwich and chips as long as I can to keep her here, and Claire is finishing the last sips of her own iced tea lemonade before I look at the clock over her head and sigh.

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