Page 34 of The Summer of Everything

“Yup.” But the guy doesn’t clarify, so Wes supposes it’s something he’ll have to ask Cooper about.

“So, I’m famous?” Wes jokes. He can’t wait to tell Leo and his parents he’s ditching college to be a social media influencer.

“Santa Monica Escapades all day.” That laugh returns. Strangely enough, Wes is falling in love with it.

“Manuia.” He extends his hand to Wes. “Everybody calls me Manu, though.”

“Manu,” Wes repeats. He likes Manu’s grip; strong and purposeful. Not at all like a creepy Instagram stalker. “I’m Wes,” he says, then feels like an idiot because, duh, of course Manu already knew that. “Officially. I’m Wes, officially.”

“Officially Wes,” Manu says, beaming.

Wes smiles nervously. He considers complimenting Manu’s wardrobe choice: a tight, vintage Gameboy T-shirt. But just because Wes is a total nerd doesn’t mean he’s advertising it to attractive strangers.

“I’ve been meaning to come by the store,” Manu continues. “My cousin says it’s great.”

“Yeah. It’s sweet.”

“Maybe I could get a tour?”

“From Cooper?”

“Well. I mean, sure. If you’re not, like, around?”

“I usually am,” Wes says. “Actually, I’m always around these days.”

“Good to know.”

Wes considers Manu. His thumbs are hooked in the front pockets of his jeans. He’s almost leaning in Wes’s direction, as if he might sit down, as if he’s possibly waiting for Wes toofferhim a place on the bench.

Wait. Is Manu flirting?

“So, yeah,” says Manu. “Maybe I’ll drop by sometime?”

“That’d be dope.”

“Dope,” Manu repeats and, if the lighting was right, Wes could swear Manu’s cheeks were darker. But it’s hard to tell from his position on the bench. Should he be asking Manu for his number? Or Instagram name? Could he slide into Manu’s DMs?

Is Wes cool enough to slide into his own DMs?

“I guess I’ll see you around, Officially Wes.” Manu gives Wes a small wave, then hesitates before spinning on his heels to walk up the pier toward Ocean Avenue.

Perfect. Puberty hit like a tornado at thirteen and, five years later, Wes still hasn’t grown a pair.

“Was that guy just flirting with you?”

Wes is startled when Nico flops down next to him; his throat barely contains a yelp as their shoulders brush.

Get it together.

“Doubtful,” Wes replies, slouching on the bench.

Nico hums, picking off an edge of golden funnel cake that isn’t piled with powdered sugar. “Looked like he was.”

“He wasn’t.”

“Not your type?”

He’s not you.Wes really hates the way his brain works. “We were just talking. He’s a friend of Cooper’s. It’s nothing.”

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