Page 16 of Memories By the Shore
“I’m just saying.” He leads me to a table by the window, quickly glancing at the line backing up at the order counter. “Everyone thought we were these troubled, parentless surf boys who were going nowhere in life.” His palms come up to move through the air. “And look at us now.”
I nod. “Look at us.”
“Yeah. Me, opening my second coffee shop. You, the fucking mayor? Riley and Bodhi …” he trails off.
One of the servers brings over a coffee and a slice of banana bread and sets it down in front of me. “It’s on the house, Mayor Collins,” she says coyly.
“You can call me Jasper,” I tell her.
The server’s eyes bounce over to Easton, then back to mine. “Jasper.” Her tone is bashful and unsure. She bows awkwardly, then skips away.
I cock a brow. “What the hell was that?”
“Yeah.” He laughs. “I told her she needed to address you formally.”
I roll my eyes, taking a sip of coffee. “You’re an asshole, you know that. Hazing your new employee is fucked up.”
“It’s not my fault that you’re the most laid-back mayor,” he says. “Who prefers everyone to call him by his first name.”
“If you ever left this small town, I’m sure you’d realize it’s more common than you think,” I quip, teasing my best friend while knowing he has spent his entire life here with no intention of ever leaving.
I guess the same can be said of myself.
Suddenly, Easton’s expression takes an empathetic form. “How are you holding up lately?”
I bend my leg over my knee and lean back in the wooden chair. “Why does everyone keep asking me that?”
“Because we’re your friends, and we care about you,” he says. “Your anniversary is coming up soon, isn’t it?”
“July twenty-eighth.”
“We used to live for summertime.” Easton makes eye contact with one of the servers, then points at the table behind us, alerting her they’re waiting for the check. Then he turns back tome. “Now, it’s lost all its joy.”
I shrug, scoffing at his observation. “We still surf and eat tacos together like when we were kids, so I don’t know what you feel changed that much.”
“Don’t treat me like a random person who hasn’t known you your whole life. I was there that summer. And I have been around ever since.”
I swallow hard and sigh.My best friend is right, but why has it been so hard for me to admit? Am I ashamed that I still let her get to me after all these years?
Easton and I quickly plaster on fake smiles, waving to a group of patrons entering the coffee shop.
“This time of the year has been hard for you ever since she left.”
He’s not going to let me off the hook without acknowledging something. “It’s strange how one summer changed every other that has come after.” I sigh. “It was three months, for fuck’s sake.”
“When are you going to move on?” he asks.
“I have no idea,” I tell him. I hope that one year, when the tides turn and the warm breeze rolls in, I won’t be reminded of the dull ache in the pit of my stomach—the emptiness and longing for what could have been.
“Maybe you won’t.” He leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. Easton is the only one out of my three best friends with whom I can have these conversations.
“What do you mean?”
“When you know,youknow,” he counters.
I rub the back of my neck, then crack it a few times, chasingrelief from the last bit of tension that wasn’t taken care of earlier this afternoon. “Well, it doesn’t matter now. I need to move on.”
“Have you been able to hit the waves at all?”
