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)
What the hell has gotten into him?
“Did you run into him in the store?” I ask.
Sean’s eyes flash. “Who? What?”
“Toby.”
“Oh.” He takes a big bite of his cotton candy. Some of it sticks to his lips, which he licks off before answering. “I ran into him in the bathroom, yeah. He was having a bad situation with a burrito. Oh … That was our secret. Oops.”
I smirk. “Probably from Mars’s mom’s taqueria. They make them nice and spicy. Longer he lives here, the more he’ll get used to it. Mars isn’t really an employee of mine. She just hops in to help now and then, or whenever she’s bored and doesn’t want to work under her mom.”
“Cool,” he says absently before chomping off more of the cotton candy and staring blankly ahead.
I frown at him. “You alright?”
“Yeah.” He still doesn’t look at me.
I glance over my shoulder at the vendors across the street. We have made our way back to the art area, by the looks of it. My mind is so twisted around from my convo with Taj and my own self-doubts, I can’t help but wonder if meeting up with Toby has Sean thinking things again.
Is he sticking by my side out of obligation?
Does he actually want to hang out with Toby instead?
“Toby’s a nice guy,” I point out lightly, throwing the fishing line into the water.
“Yeah.”
“Genuine. Kind-hearted. Apparently doesn’t drink,” I add with a choked chuckle. He doesn’t react. I give him a nudge. “You want to check out his boyfriend’s work?”
“Hmm?” The question stirs him. “Oh, you mean now?”
“Why not?”
He nods. “Sure, yeah, we can … we can do that.”
And now for the real test: “Well, I got a call from the bar while you were in the restroom. I’m apparently needed for something, so—”
“You are?”
“Yeah. Why don’t you find Toby and hang out with him for a while? Check out his boyfriend’s artwork. This is what you wanted to do anyway, right?”
Sean meets my eyes. There’s a question behind them he doesn’t seem ready to ask.
I give him a pleasant, encouraging smile—as pleasant and encouraging as I can manage. “Maybe they’ll hit up the bonfire afterwards. It’s just down the beach from the house, if you want to head back later on.”
“If I want to head back?”
“I don’t know. Maybe you’ll have fun with your new friends and want to crash with them. Depends on how you feel, I guess. That’s the thing with Dreamwood,” I go on as I look him over, keeping that smile on my face. “You can never predict what each day will bring … what shiny new opportunity will wash up on the shore.”
Sean looks off for a moment, appearing pensive. “Oh, okay,” he finally says.
“This is that whole ‘keep your doors open’ thing.”
He bites his lip. When he looks at me, his whole tone changes. “Can we just go instead?”
I lift my eyebrows, surprised. “What?”
“I can come with you to the bar to help,” he insists, a note of desperation in his voice. “Then we can, like, just go back to your place. I’ve seen enough. I don’t need to hang with anyone or do any bonfire or anything.”
What the hell is going on? “Sean?”
Just then, a voice calls out: “Hey, guys! Over here!”
We turn to find Toby at a table with displays showing off what appears to be artfully illustrated demons, angels, and strange monsters with twisty horns and knobby wings. Toby waves ecstatically at us, a cheery smile on his face.
I ignore all of that and put a hand on Sean’s shoulder. “You alright?”
Whatever panic lived on his face vanishes. “Uh, never mind. It’s nothing. I’ll hang with Toby and his boyfriend. Everything’s fine.”
He slips from my grasp and cuts across the street toward Toby’s table. I watch as the two reunite, and Toby happily takes the reins, showing off his boyfriend’s art. I’m left in the middle of the street among the crowd, watching, feeling like a lurking ghost peering in through a window.
I’m haunted by that moment the whole way to the Easy Breezy. Twice, I stop and reconsider going back for Sean, then remind myself of my own promise. When I ascend the handful of steps to the doors of the bar, I stop yet again, a tangle of thorny misgivings tightening in my stomach.
“Uh, boss man, you alright?”
I flinch at the sound of Chase’s voice, coming from one of the front windows, open to let in the air. His sandy-blond hair is unexpectedly combed neatly tonight, and his eyes look as calm and languid as the ocean.
For a moment, I can forget this whole weekend. I can go back to my normal life. No commitments. No worries. No pressures. Everything as easy and as breezy as it should be. The only responsibilities are my dear plants on my back porch. No confusing boys in my life. No questions.