Page 26 of One Happy Summer

“Always.”

“So . . . what are you doing?”

She sighs. “Being stupid, I guess.”

“You really can’t take more than two days by yourself,” I say.

She shakes her head. “I know. That seems to be my limit.”

I lift my shoulder briefly, wondering if I should say what my mouth wants to say right now. I decide to just go for it.

“You know, you could just come here at night, and we could hang out, sometimes . . . when you’re bored, that is. If you want to, or you know . . . whatever.”

Right. Really smooth, Briggs. I mess with my glasses, pushing the bottom of the frames up with the back of my finger.

“Actually,” she says. “I was thinking that . . . I mean if you’re still up for it, that maybe . . . we could do your summer plan?”

I rear my head back, confused. “But what about—”

“I know,” she says, holding up a hand. “I know what I said, and it’s probably a very bad idea, but I can’t do it. I can’t stay in that room. I feel like I’d rather risk it than lose my mind at the resort. And I am . . . losing my mind. We can be careful, right?”

“Of course,” I tell her, having already worked out some ideas, even though at the time it felt fruitless. I give her a grin that she returns. “Let’s do all the summer stuff.”

“Really?” she asks, her eyes doing a sort of twinkling thing.

Did she really think I’d turn her down?

I grab my phone out of my back pocket and pull up my notes app. I was bored myself yesterday, what with not working at the bookshop and also not having a five-foot-nothing famous actress keeping me company.

“What’s that?” Her eyes go from my phone to me.

“I made a list of things to do.”

“You . . . made a list?”

I give her my best sheepish smile. “I figured it could end up being useful.”

“You assumed I wouldn’t be able to stay at the resort, didn’t you?”

“No,” I say, pushing my glasses up my nose with a finger. “Of course not. I made it just in case.”

Her mouth pulls up into a full smile, and it’s pretty dazzling.

“What’s on it?” She tries to peek at my phone, but I hold it away from her.

“It’s a surprise,” I say. It’s not a surprise, but it feels sort of vulnerable to let her look at the list I made. What if she hates it? What if it’s stupid?

“I love surprises,” she says.

“Good,” I tell her. “Because that’s why . . . I mean that’s what it’s going to be. A surprise.” Great. I’m fumbling over my words again.

“So, what should we do tonight? Can we knock something off the list?” She points to the phone in my hand.

I scan my screen to see what we could do this evening before remembering that I already have plans. “Oh crap,” I say, shaking my head and briefly looking up at the ceiling. “I have dinner with my sister and my mom. But I can cancel it.”

“No,” she says as I start to pull up my mom’s number. “Do you think . . . would they . . . would they care if I came with you?”

I stare at her, unsure I heard her right. She fumbles with the drawstrings on her hoodie, and I put the phone in my back pocket, which begins to vibrate as soon as I do, but I ignore it.

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