Page 55 of One Happy Summer

“And you’re a terrible liar. Still, I’ll give it a six out of ten.”

“Really?” My brows move up my forehead. “I’d have expected less.”

“I’m feeling generous today,” she says. “I’ll rate it higher if you tell me your middle name.”

I give her a closed-mouth smile, shaking my head. She will never let this go, nor will she probably ever guess it. “I’m honestly surprised you haven’t hired private investigators.”

She sighs. “I’ve considered it. But then I’d have to go online, and I’m staying out of that realm.”

“Speaking of which, I looked up your name and the movie this morning, and no news.”

She nods, an appreciative expression on her face. “That’s good.”

I weave my fingers together and place them in my lap. “Will it be bad if you lose the role?”

“It won’t be good,” she says. “It will set a precedent. I’ll stand to lose other contracts.”

“How many do you have?”

“Right now, I have three. I had four, but I lost one. Because of . . . theincident,” she says, leaning in and nearly whispering the last word.

“And they all film when?”

She shrugs. “I only haveCosmic Furythis year. Another shoot starts in January, and the other possibly next summer.”

Next summer. Presley has her whole life mapped out—she already knows what she’ll be doing a year from now. And I don’t even know what I’ll be doing at the end of this summer. I should probably start looking for a job or figuring out my next step. But I sort of feel paralyzed by it. Like I’ll make another wrong move or bad choice. Still, my bank account is pretty much demanding it right now.

She sits up, looking like she’s about to leave. “Walk with me on the beach?”

“Sure,” I say, getting up from my seat.

We walk through the still-hot sand, though the sun is no longer glaring down on it, and onto the wet sand where the waves have been breaking, then farther until our feet touch the water. I tuck my hands into the pockets of the basketball shorts I’m wearing as we start walking along the shore.

“So have there been any more stalkers looking in your room?” I ask as our feet splash in the shallow water, a teasing smile on my face.

A couple of days ago while I was working at the bookshop, Presley called me, frantic because someone was outside her window and she was sure it was paparazzi or a crazed fan. I told her to call the police . . . Well, she called Beau, the one policeman we have on the island. He came over and checked and it happened to be one of the resort’s gardeners.

“Shut up,” she says, pushing me lightly on the arm. “I thought for sure I’d been found.”

“I’m still kind of amazed word hasn’t gotten out.” I think it’s made me realize that word travels fast on this island, but then it just sort of stays here.

“I know,” she says. “It’s been amazing. This has been the most perfect summer.” She does a little spinning thing, hands out toward the sky, water splashing around her ankles.

I want to grab her right now and kiss her perfect pink lips, but I don’t.

I tease her instead. “You know that it’s only June, right? Today is literally the first day of summer, officially.”

“Oh, that’s right. Happy first official day of summer to you,” she says.

“And to you,” I say, with a dip of my head.

She looks out toward the ocean. “Official or not, it’s been summer to me. Is it sad that I’ve been so deprived of the season that only three weeks in and I can already declare this one better than any other summer?”

“No,” I say. “I’ve had regular summers, and I can definitely say this already ranks in the top twenty-eight of them.”

She snorts out a laugh. “Well played.”

“I give it a six point one out of ten,” I say.

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