Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 73817 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 369(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73817 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 369(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
Every smell of something frying in the pan.
Each grain of sand that gets caught between my toes.
“I’ll take this, please,” I say, pulling a lime green tank top off the rack. I’ve never been a lime green tank top kind of guy. Here, I can be. “And one of these, too.”
Coop told me to meet him at the bar for a ride home after I was finished shopping. By the time I get there, it’s late in the afternoon, and I look like I’ve had quite the day with seven different shopping bags in hand, stuffed with clothes. He waits for me on the front steps, gazing off at the beach through his shades. Then he spots me. “There you are.”
I give my bags a wiggle. “Amazing how far you can stretch a dollar or two in this town.”
“Especially when you avoid the boardwalk and the tourist shops like I told you.” He takes most of the bags from me, lightening my load. “Ready to head back?”
“Didn’t you need some help here at the bar?” I ask as I peer around him through the window. I spot Mars standing at the counter chatting with Chase and another bartender. The three of them seem in the middle of listening to a story someone is excitedly telling them when Mars glances over and sees me. She squints questioningly, observes me for all of five long seconds, then turns away.
I frown, wondering if something’s up.
“Everything’s covered for now,” insists Coop. “Extra help is coming in, just in case we get any spillage from the Pride stuff on Cassanova. I’ll have my phone on me.”
“Oh.” Cooper puts an arm around me and guides me away from the bar as I continue trying to get one last peek through the window at Mars.
When we’re back at his place, I dump my spoils on his bed to inspect what I got.
Coop frowns. “No shoes?”
“Mine are just fine,” I insist. “And shoes are expensive as hell. They’d blow half the budget alone. Besides, if I’m gonna be a beach bum now, I better get used to being in cheap flip-flops or barefoot.”
“What about underwear?”
I glance at the clothes, realizing I’d forgotten. “I … I’ll just … I’ve got the pairs you lent me, and—”
“You need underwear, too, Seany.”
I roll my eyes. “Yes, Dad.”
He shoots me a sharp look.
I realize quickly he doesn’t find that as amusing as I did. “Sorry. I … I can get everything I missed tomorrow. And I’m paying you back for all of this, by the way,” I remind him. “What you gave me today is a loan.”
“No, it wasn’t.”
“Yes, it was. I’m working at your bar now. I’m going to earn all of this like a grown adult. Which I am. I’m …” I grab a shirt and start folding it. “I’m a grown adult.”
He quirks an eyebrow. “A grown adult who folds his clothes before washing them?”
I toss the shirt back onto the bed. “I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m gonna go take a shower, if that’s alright.”
“Of course.”
I head for the bathroom, then stop at the door.
Have I gotten too comfortable too quickly?
“Um … Coop?”
“Yeah?”
I face him. “Just wanted to say … thanks.”
His eyes search mine for a while. Then he shrugs. “For what?” He gives me a little smile, then turns away to start gathering clothes off the bed. After watching him briefly, I slip into the bathroom, shut the door, twist on the shower, then stare at my face in the mirror for five long minutes.
Then I’m standing under the water staring at the wall a lot longer than five minutes, letting the white noise of the shower drown out everything.
And as I twist off the water at the end of my shower, I have finally come to a decision.
The old Seany is gone.
I’m going to be a new man here in Dreamwood Isle.
I’m going to be—“Sean,” I tell Coop when I’m drying off later, nothing but a towel around my waist. “Just Sean.”
He appears surprised. “Really?”
“Yep.” I fish a comb out of his drawer and run it through my hair as I study myself in the mirror. “Sean is what I go by now. It’s decided.”
He crosses his arms and leans against the doorframe.
I glance at him. “You don’t like it?”
“I like and support all your decisions.”
The way he worded that seems strange. “Are you still annoyed I forgot to get underwear, socks, and shoes?”
“Not annoyed at all.”
“You wanted me to spend all your cash on Nikes and jockstraps? I saw jockstraps,” I add, lowering my voice. “I saw stores full of tiny colorful bikinis, glittery thongs, and jockstraps.”
“That would be one of the stores I suggested avoiding. And regardless of what you insist, you don’t have to pay back anything.”
“So you like just giving it all away? Won’t let me work for it? Do you get off on this or something?” I push on. “Letting me spend all your money? Pampering myself? You want to spoil me, Cooper?”