“It’s nice,” he said to his water glass with a yawn. He looked like he would have benefited from another one of those power naps in his truck. “Complicated but good.”
“Complicated how?” I knew complicated was a loaded word, an all-encompassing explanation for everything from being late to class to fights with BFFs.
Quentin answered my question by tapping a pinkie on his glass, keeping his mouth shut.
It was one of the only times he seemed to prefer staying quiet over nonstop rambling. “My aunt told me your family moved in recently. Where did you guys move from?” I thought this question could break the ice so he’d be more willing to answer more of them.
“Just a couple hours north is all. Not far.” He took a drink of water, draining nearly the entire glass.
“Did that suck, having to move to a new school your junior year?”
He shook his head. “No, it was actually kind of nice. A fresh start, you know?” When he looked at me, it was like he was waiting for me to back him up, but my experience led me to another conclusion.
“I’ve had seventeen years of fresh starts. Every few days or weeks. For once, it would be nice to hang around long enough to really get to know people, and for them to get to know me.”
Quentin was grinning, like he was in on some secret I wasn’t. “Trust me. Staying isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”
“But neither is traveling everywhere and belonging nowhere.”
As the server returned with our orders, Quentin scooted his sleeves up his arms, like he had to psych himself up to tear into his tofu steak. “Yeah, well, I guess I’ll have to take your word for it.”
“You’re seventeen, you know?” I said after thanking the server when she slid my order in front of me. “You can figure it out on your own soon.”
“Nah, I’ll have to do the whole living-vicariously-through-you thing.” He was staring at his plate, unsure.
“You’re graduating from high school in a year.”
“Yep, and three months later I’m off to college.”
After placing my napkin on my lap, I picked up my spoon. “They have those all over the world. There’s even programs where you can study abroad.”
When Quentin stabbed at his grilled tofu with his fork, he winced. “There’s also this community college a half-hour drive from my house.”
My spoon froze in my gazpacho. “You’re staying here?”
“Yep.” He lifted his first bite to his mouth.
“Why?”
“It’s cheap.” He ate the tofu. Then he finished the rest of his water.
“It’s cheap? That’s your reason for picking community college? There are scholarships. You could still travel all over.”
He scooted his empty glass to the end of the table. “I want to stay close to my family. They need me, you know? They depend on me. I couldn’t just bounce on them like that.”
Had I just come face to face with the most responsible teenage boy ever? “Pretty sure your family would be supportive of your dreams.”
His head tipped. “That’s one of my reasons.”
“What are the others?”
“My reasons.”
If his voice didn’t say it, his eyes did when they met mine. Leave it alone.
I tried the soup so I wouldn’t be tempted to ask dozens of follow-up questions.
“So your mom’s in a band.” Quentin gave me a questioning look, his spoon aimed at my soup. When I nodded, he dipped his spoon into my soup hesitantly. “What does your dad do?”
The roll I was picking up slipped from my hands. “Uh, he’s in a band, too.”
“Really?” Quentin said, tasting my soup. He didn’t even grimace. At least not too badly.
“Really.”
“Wow, so how do they work around each other’s tour schedules?”
“Um, well, they aren’t together or anything.” I tried mirroring his Leave it alone look, but it didn’t work.
“When did they get divorced?”
“No divorce.” I cleared my throat and took a sip of water before scooting my glass down beside his. Water emergency at table nine. “They were never married.”
He was quiet for a moment. “Do you guys ever see him?”
I stalled with some more soup. “My mom hasn’t seen him since she was my age, right after she told him she was pregnant.”
“And, what? He just bailed?”
The word sounded harsh, but it was what had happened. “Pretty much.”
Quentin snorted across from me. “So you’ve never even met your real dad?”
No. Nope. I haven’t. I have not. I shook my head.
He ground his jaw as his hands curled into fists. I hadn’t expected this kind of response from him. At all. It was almost like it was as personal to him as it was to me.
I worked on the namaste roll I wasn’t really tasting, in uncomfortable silence.
“I’m sorry, Jade. That’s a shit thing to do to someone.”
“Well, in his defense, he hadn’t met me before he ditched. Because I’m sure if he had, I totally would have changed his mind. I’m just that awesome.” I beamed at him like I believed it, and it seemed to work. He was back to acting chill and like nothing in the world could get to him.
“You are awesome. I’m sure if he did have a chance to get to know you, he wouldn’t go anywhere.”
I set my roll down and wondered if he was right. I’d find out soon enough.
“Do you feel like, I don’t know, something big’s missing from your life?” Quentin was staring at the table, his forehead creased.
I wanted conversation and getting to know each other—I was getting it.
After the server came around with the water pitcher, we both reached for our refilled glasses at the same time. “I’ve never met my dad. Ever. So yeah, I feel like something’s missing.”
His eyes met mine. “Missing how?”
I had thought about that question probably longer than any other in my life. I gave him the only answer I’d ever come up with: “I don’t know.”
I never thought I’d wake up to a sunny morning and actually whine about it, but that was a side effect of working at a public pool concession stand in the middle of the summer.
I was working way more than I’d planned, but that was okay since the alternative was hanging with Aunt Julie and the twins. She’d loosened the collar…if I considered going to the grocery store alone a win. Other than the occasional night Quentin and I schemed to sneak out for some random adventure, that was about as exciting as my summer had been.
But I was fast becoming a pro at not getting caught sneaking out—the true American teen way. Mom would have been so proud. If she’d known. Which I wasn’t about to tell her on the off chance she accidently mentioned it to Aunt Julie when they checked in with each other every few days.
“Switch you.” Zoey scooted up next to the freezer, where I hadn’t stopped scooping ice cream in what felt like eons.
“You’re my hero,” I sighed, gladly handing her the scoop as I took her place behind the cash register. It was rare that I had help during a shift, but the week of Fourth of July was especially busy, so Janet had us all working extra shifts.
“Hey, a bunch of us are going to go chill on my stepdad’s boat tonight if you want to come. We won’t actually be leaving the dock or anything, but it will be fun regardless.” Zoey dropped her scoop into the vanilla ice cream tub when she heard the kid’s order as he unloaded a fistful of quarters onto the counter.
“Will your friend be there?” My gaze automatically drifted to the lounger where one of Zoey’s friends was stretched out, adjusting her string top for the hundredth time. Instead of adjusting it so more of herself was covered, she was adjusting it so less was covered. I couldn’t miss the way she stared over in Quentin’s di
rection as she did. Luckily, he was in super-lifeguard mode and therefore oblivious to the whole thing.
“She’s not really my friend. More friend-of-a-friend type of thing. I’m sorry again about earlier, though. I don’t know what Ashlyn’s problem was.” Zoey shot me another apologetic smile before stacking three scoops of ice cream onto a cone.
From what had been going on before she came sashaying up to the concession stand, I guessed I had an idea as to what her problem was: Quentin. Well, I guessed her problem was me, and how Quentin’s attention had been on me earlier when she’d practically stumbled chest-first into him when she ordered her Diet Coke.
“Don’t worry about it. I wouldn’t know what to do if someone didn’t try putting me in my place weekly. It might mess with my sense of self-worth. Totally give me a positive self-image or something dangerous like that.” I counted out how many quarters the kid owed me, then scooted the rest back toward him.
Zoey was shaking her head, laughing a little as she braced herself for the next order. Her shoulders sagged in relief when the kid ordered a hot dog meal. “I can’t believe you actually just smiled after that, handed over her change, and said, ‘Have a nice day.’ ” Zoey laughed again. “I mean, come on, who does that?”
“What else was I supposed to say?” I slid my braid behind my back, trying not to stare at Quentin as he rotated to his next post. Trying not to stare, like all the other girls around my age. I was about as successful as the rest of them, too.
“Um, I don’t know, take your pick of bitchy responses. There’s literally no shortage of them.” Even Zoey was watching Quentin. It was kind of hard not to. Especially with the way he was smiling at a few kids who had just gotten to the pool and were waving at him like he was the greatest thing since summer vacation.
“Nah, it’s okay. And besides, she was kind of right. I am kind of a hippie, and right now I am pretty dirty.” I held out my arms, which were streaked with smears of ice cream. Shoot, even my shoes had splatters of nacho cheese on them from earlier. “But I’m not a skank. Whatever a skank is, because I’m not sure if that’s been accurately defined.”
Zoey squeezed a glob of ketchup on the dog and wrapped it up. “As a friend of a friend, I’m apologizing for her, but yeah, she probably will be there tonight, so I totally get if you want to take a pass.”
My shoulders raised as I made change. Working the register was so much better than prepping the food. “Actually, it isn’t really her, but it’s more my aunt. She wouldn’t let me come anyway. But thanks for the invite.”
“Why not?” Zoey blew a wisp of hair from her eyes as she handed me the hot dog meal.
“Because she’s worried I’ll get into trouble or something.”
“Please.” Zoey exhaled sharply. “You are, like, the most responsible human being I’ve ever met. What’s she so worried about?”
“That I’ll get knocked up, the dad will run away, and I will ruin my and my baby’s life thanks to one bad decision.”
When Zoey blinked at me, I remembered that sometimes honesty was best served lukewarm.
“Anyway, thanks again for the invite. Maybe some other time.”
Zoey smiled and got to work on the next order. I’d just turned down a party on a boat with a bunch of people my age on the Fourth of July. Yeah, so maybe it was a docked boat, and maybe one of those people my age had called me a dirty skank hippie, but really? This was why I’d come here this summer. These kinds of experiences. I wanted to listen to my aunt, and I wasn’t the rebel type, but I was about to become one if things didn’t change soon.
I was in the zone, taking and filling orders in record time, when I noticed someone press himself up against my side of the counter. Press his nice, firm-looking tan chest up against the counter.
“What are you doing tonight?” Quentin asked abruptly, like we’d already exchanged heys and how-are-you-doings.
When I took a minute to answer, Zoey nudged me. “I invited her out on my stepdad’s boat, but she said her aunt wouldn’t let her.”
Quentin started to smirk at me. “Look at you. Living it up.” He tapped at his watch face, like the second hand was a day hand, and they were ticking away.
“I’ve had a perfectly great summer so far.” My voice was more than a little defensive, but he was poking at a sore subject.
“So? Perfectly great summer?” His smirk deepened. “What have you got planned for tonight?”
He had me. He knew he had me.
Because I didn’t have anything planned for tonight, one of the most celebrated holidays in the whole entire nation. One particularly popular with those my age because it was synonymous with summer and swimsuits, I guessed.
“Barbecue at my place. Seven o’clock.” It wasn’t a question, but he cocked his head and waited.
Beside me, I noticed Zoey’s mouth start to open.
He must have guessed where my mind had led me because he added, “My mom said your family’s invited, so bring everyone. We used to do a big get-together every Fourth back before we moved. This will be our first one here in the new place, so there won’t be as many people, but it will still be cool.”
Zoey scooted closer, like she was hoping proximity might earn her an invitation, too.
“Oh, and I told my mom you’re one of those masochists who doesn’t eat meat or cheese or any food that’s delicious, so we’ve got you covered.”
Something squeezed in my chest, and I didn’t stop to think about my answer before giving in. “See you at seven.”
Quentin tapped the counter, smiling at me before leaving.
Beside me still, Zoey elbowed me. “Did Quentin Ford ask you on a date?”
I wondered what she’d say if she knew about our late-night get-togethers-slash-hangouts-slash-dates.
“He only asked my family over to his house for dinner.” I got back to taking orders, not missing the lethal expression Zoey’s friend of a friend was firing my way. She didn’t even know what he’d said, and she was looking at me like she wanted to squash me with her platform sandals.
“He asked you over to his place. That’s what that was, you know, in case you needed a translation.”
Instead of arguing with her about what that was or wasn’t, I asked, “Do you know Quentin? You know, outside of the pool?”
Zoey snagged a bag of chips from the rack and tossed them at the girl who’d ordered them. “He transferred to my school last year, but I don’t really know him. Although I wouldn’t mind knowing him, the way I’m guessing he’s hoping to know you.” Zoey winked over at me.
“What’s he like at school?”
“Exactly like he is here. Friendly, works hard, keeps to himself mostly.”
My forehead creased. “He keeps to himself?”
“Well, yeah, pretty much. Other than a wicked smile here, a flirty wink there, yeah, he’s kinda a loner. The hottest loner ever, but still.”
“Really?” My head tipped as I watched him. He didn’t seem like the keep-to-himself loner type at all. Even though I’d never really seen him with anyone outside of work…besides me.
“I think he and his family are really close. The type that does all kinds of things together. Plus, with him being the oldest, you know his parents force him into babysitting duty all of the time.” Zoey handed off a lopsided chocolate cone to a kid who was barely as tall as that ice cream was.
“So what are you going to wear?” Zoey asked, like this was the question to end all questions.
I held out my arms and did a spin. Crochet top and cutoffs. Perfect.
“That is not what one wears to the house of the Quentin Fords of the world,” Zoey said, all solemn-like.
My eyes lifted as I took the next order. “I’m not changing for anyone. Not even Quentin Ford.”
* * *
—
Okay,
so maybe I changed for Quentin Ford. But only my outfit, and only because before my shift ended, I’d managed to pour nacho cheese down my shirt instead of on the tray of chips I was serving.
I was trying to distract myself from the fact that I was heading up Quentin’s walkway with my aunt and little cousins. Even though it was the Fourth, Uncle Paul had to go in to work, but he’d promised to make it back in time for fireworks. I wasn’t holding my breath, and from the look on his eight-year-olds’ faces, neither were they.
“Are you sure I shouldn’t have picked up flowers, too? I don’t feel right showing up for a dinner party without flowers for the hostess.” Aunt Julie was fretting her lower lip as we walked up the porch, looking like she was about to be accused of high treason.
“Aunt Julie, it’s fine. I texted Quentin to ask his mom what we could bring and all she said was just ourselves.” I stopped at the front door, glancing over at the canvas shopping bags my aunt had filled to the brim with goodies to share. “And you’re here with wine, sparkling cider, festive cupcakes, and whatever else you stuffed into those bags.” Pretty sure I caught a peek of a fruit salad nestled beneath the cupcakes. “And it’s a barbecue. Not a dinner party.”
The twins were in matching patriotic rompers and had their hair French-braided so tightly it looked like it was pulling their eyebrows up. They seemed excited, like they were hoping they’d get to run around and work on a few grass stains instead of running a bow across a violin or counting in Chinese.
“Now, girls—”
Before she could list off the hundred rules that came with every outing, Hailey piped up, “Be on your best behavior, be respectful, and be kind.”
Aunt Julie nodded, looking a little nervous, like she shouldn’t have let me talk her into this a whole three hours ago. Just in case she was thinking about running, I rang the doorbell.
It sounded like a herd of bison was rushing the door, right before a crashing pounded against it.
Aunt Julie gave me a look, like I’d led her and the twins into a trap, and then a kid opened the door. He looked a couple years older than the twins; his younger brother elbowed his way into the doorway, too. For such small humans, they sure made a lot of noise.