The Trouble With Flirting

  “Yes, the sun has a way of being like that,” Marie says.

  Alex and Isabella tell us they’ll be back soon and wander off down the beach.

  I watch them go. He’s inclining his head toward her, listening intently to whatever it is she’s saying. The roar of the ocean makes their conversation instantly private.

  “It’s hot,” James says after a moment.

  “So you’ve already pointed out,” Marie replies. She’s still standing, her hands on her hips. She kicks a tiny bit of sand at Harry’s legs. He doesn’t seem to notice. She does it again, only with more sand, and he lifts his head and says, “Don’t,” and then goes back to sunbathing and ignoring her. She fidgets a bit, adjusting the waist of the leafy-green sarong she’s wearing around her tiny waist, then looks up and says, “You should drink something, James. You’re sweating like a pig.”

  “That’s because it’s hot.”

  “Yeah . . . You know what? I just remembered that we passed a coffee shop about two blocks back. I think you should go get us all some nice cold drinks.”

  “But we just got settled here.”

  “I’m dying of thirst.”

  He rises reluctantly to his feet. “I wish you’d told me that before.”

  “I know, I’m sorry.” She strokes his arm with sudden affection. “You’re so sweet. Get me an iced tea, okay? With lots of ice? And two Splendas? You guys want anything?” This last question is to me and Harry. He orders an iced coffee. I pass.

  “I don’t suppose you want to come with me?” James says to Marie.

  “I have to keep Franny company.” She slides down onto her knees next to me. “Since she’s stuck here and everyone else wants to take a walk. It would be mean for us all to just leave her.”

  “Okay, then, I’m off. I have my phone if you think of anything else you want.”

  “Thanks!” Marie says, all smiles and waves. “You’re totally my hero! Come back quickly!”

  He struggles through the sand toward the parking lot, stopping a couple of times to take off one of his Sperry boat shoes and shake the sand out of it.

  “Got rid of him,” Harry says lightly.

  Marie shrugs with a little smile.

  A few seconds later she shifts around on the blanket and says, “This is boring. Let’s go explore a little, Harry.” She rises to her feet.

  “But I’m comfy.”

  “Don’t be so lazy.” She reaches down for his hand, and he shrugs and lets her haul him to his feet. Like it’s more work to resist, which maybe it is. Harry definitely takes the easiest path.

  Although he did carry me across the hot sand. Got to give him credit for that.

  “We’ll be right back,” Marie says to me.

  “No worries,” I say. I honestly don’t care.

  They head along the beach. As they disappear around the curve, I see Marie’s hand start trailing up Harry’s ridiculously muscled arm.

  I’m alone. I get a book out of my beach bag and try to focus on reading it. Try not to think about Alex and Isabella and how they’ve completely vanished. And what they’re talking about. Or whether they’re even talking at all.

  A shadow falls over me: Julia is back.

  “Where did everybody go? Where’s Harry?”

  “He and Marie went to explore.”

  “Are you kidding me? He just said he didn’t want to go for a walk!”

  “They’ll be back any second.”

  She drops down heavily next to me. “She has a boyfriend.”

  “It’s just a walk, Julia. They’ll be back soon.”

  “No, they won’t,” she says miserably. “They’re nowhere in sight.”

  “It’s nice just sitting here and reading.”

  “Nice for you, maybe.”

  I give up and go back to reading my book while Julia digs her fingers into the sand over and over again.

  A little while later . . . “I’m back,” gasps a winded James, who hands me a full cardboard drink tray before collapsing down onto his knees on the towels. “Where did Marie go?”

  “On a walk with Harry.” Julia fixes James with a stare, like she wants him to realize how wrong this is.

  James sits on his butt and adjusts his sunglasses on his nose. “It’s a little strange to ask someone to get you a drink and then not be there when he gets back.”

  “Very strange.” Julia rises to her feet. “I’ll go find them and tell them the drinks are here. You stay with Franny.” She runs off across the sand, toward the bend in the beach.

  That leaves me alone with James. “So,” I say, because I feel like I have to make conversation, “what are you up to this summer?”

  “I’m working at a law firm.”

  “Nice. Do you like it?”

  “Very much. I’m planning to take a full-time job there when I graduate.” He unwraps a straw and threads it into one of the drinks.

  “That’s great,” I say. “What’s it called?”

  “Rushport Reeves.”

  “Oh, so is this a gift from them?” I point to the beach blanket, which has Rushport embroidered on one corner of it.

  “No. My last name’s Rushport.” I must look confused, because he adds, “My grandfather’s a founding partner of Rushport Reeves.”

  No wonder he has a job waiting for him.

  James drinks his coffee and smiles at me pleasantly around the straw. I thumb the pages of my book.

  “How’s your foot doing?” he asks as he puts his cup back down.

  “Fine, really. I’m tempted to get up and walk around.”

  “Best to play it safe,” he says. “Glass, you know.”

  I nod, not entirely sure what I’m agreeing with.

  Another silence. I fidget and watch the volleyball players, who are laughing and jumping and diving in the sand. I would have happily played volleyball. I’m good at volleyball.

  We fail at getting a real conversation going, so eventually I go back to reading my book, while James stretches out on the towels and closes his eyes with an “I put on SPF fifty this morning, but I know I’m doomed.”

  Last in, first out: Julia returns. I thought she was in a bad mood when she left. It was nothing compared to the one she’s in now.

  “I couldn’t find them,” she announces angrily as she drops down next to me, missing the towels and sending a swirl of sand up in the air and into my eyes. “They must be hiding somewhere. This sucks.”

  I’m finding it hard to be sympathetic: I bet I’m just as wounded by Alex and Isabella’s disappearance as she is by Harry and Marie’s, but at least I’m trying to make the time pass pleasantly for those of us left behind. Every time she mutters something about how long Harry and Marie have been gone, James looks more disturbed, and I’m starting to feel bad for him. Is Julia really that clueless?

  Lawrence and Vanessa come back soon after that, sweaty and exhilarated, followed a little while later by Isabella and Alex.

  “Sorry we were gone so long!” Isabella sings out. They sit down close together and she lets her hand rest lightly on his knee, almost like she doesn’t know it’s there. “There was this strange little rock area up ahead, and I said, ‘Let’s just walk to there,’ but then it was much farther than I realized. And then when we got there, it wasn’t even all that interesting.” She glances slyly at Alex. “But the walk was nice.”

  “As we learn from The Odyssey, it is not the journey but the destination that matters,” Alex intones with mock pomposity. He leans back so he can pull something out of his pocket and says in his normal voice, “Hey, Franny, I found these for you.” He holds out his hand to me, revealing five softly colored, irregularly shaped pebbles. “You said you like sea glass, right?”

  I didn’t even think he’d heard me.

  I put out my hand and he pours the pieces onto my palm. “They’re beautiful,” I say. “Don’t you want them?”

  “I was looking for you. Since you couldn’t.”

  “Thank you.” I close my han
d around my treasure.

  Isabella says—a little sharply—“Don’t hog all the credit, Alex. I found that big clear piece.”

  “No,” Alex says. “I found the clear one—you found the purple one.”

  “I’m pretty sure I found both.”

  “Now who’s trying to hog the credit?” He brushes his lips against her temple.

  “Just trying to keep you honest,” she says, her voice softening.

  I tighten my fist around the sea glass until it hurts.

  Marie and Harry don’t return until we’re all eating the hot dogs, chips, and drinks that the counselors have supplied.

  Marie is in a very good mood. She tosses around her mane of honey-colored hair as she laughs loudly at Harry’s jokes and orders James to wait on her. She seems to think she’s impressing everyone with the fact that she has two guys orbiting her, but I don’t think either of them seems nearly as delighted with her as she is with herself.

  Julia is unusually quiet, just sits with me and Lawrence, picking at a bag of chips and ignoring her hot dog.

  After we’ve been eating for a little while, Isabella stands up and stretches. With that white linen tunic and her long dark hair pinned up and those sleek sunglasses, she looks sexy and sophisticated. “Anyone want another soda?” she asks, and Alex leaps to his feet to go with her to the barrel of drinks near the volleyball net. Their hands seek out each other along the way, and they stay entwined even when they return to report that the counselors are putting out dessert. Harry and Lawrence head over to the picnic table to grab some for us all.

  Harry comes back and tosses a plastic-wrapped brownie in front of me. I toss back a “thanks,” and then he drops down next to Julia and holds out another one. “For you.”

  “No, thank you,” she says frostily.

  He shakes his head ruefully. “I could have sworn someone told me that girls like chocolate.”

  “I like chocolate,” she says.

  “So it’s me you have a problem with?”

  “It was just a joke. Excuse me.” She gets up and pointedly walks over to where Alex and Isabella are talking and sits down with them.

  Harry looks at me. “I think I’m in trouble.”

  “Seems like it.”

  He leans back on his elbows. “Don’t suppose you’d be willing to tell me what crime I committed?”

  I shake my head. “I’m just an innocent bystander. Bysitter.” Then I relent. “But you probably should have waited for her to take that walk along the beach. I’m only telling you this much because you gave me a brownie.”

  “I knew I was on to something with that chocolate/girl thing.” He turns onto his side so he’s facing me, his head propped up on one elbow. “Hey, how’s your foot feeling?”

  “Totally fine.”

  “Too bad. I kind of liked carrying you around.”

  “I’m sure you’ll have plenty more opportunities—I’m the world’s biggest klutz.”

  “Well, I’m not going to hope that you get hurt, but if you do, remember that you’re my damsel in distress, and no one else is allowed to carry you.”

  “I don’t remember signing that contract,” I say.

  “All the more reason to promise me now.”

  “What if you’re not around when I get hurt?”

  “Send word. I’ll come running.”

  “How big an injury does it have to be? Because sometimes I do this thing when I stand up too quickly and my ankle kind of twists a little—”

  “Sounds serious,” he says gravely. “You don’t want to put any weight on that. I’d better carry you the next time that happens.”

  “What if I skin my knee?”

  “I’ll carry you.”

  “Charley horse?”

  “I’ll carry you.”

  “Chipped toenail?”

  “Not worth taking a risk. I’ll carry you.”

  I grin at him and then realize that Julia is watching both of us from over near her brother. And she looks seriously annoyed. Which is ridiculous: I can’t help it if Harry flirts with whoever he’s near and that happens to be me right now. But I have to admit—he’s funnier and smarter than I’ve given him credit for, and I’m kind of enjoying the conversation. I guess guys like Harry can be good company so long as you don’t forget that they’re, you know . . . guys like Harry.

  act II

  scene one

  The next day, parts are announced. At dinner that night I can basically guess who got the good roles and who didn’t by everyone’s expression.

  Julia is morose. “It’s not bad enough that she switched to our cast?” she whispers to me as we fill our cups together at the dispenser. “They gave her Viola! The biggest female lead!”

  “Is she a bad actress?”

  She waves her hand irritably, sending drops of Diet Coke flying around us. “She’s fine, I guess. It doesn’t matter—this is totally sympathy casting; they still think some guy was inappropriate with her. Which is so ridiculous.. . . And you know who’s playing the duke?” I shake my head. “Harry,” she says, like it should have been obvious. “That means the two of them fall in love, which is just what she was obviously hoping for when she switched into this cast. She got everything she wanted by cheating. It’s so unfair!”

  “Who did you get?”

  “Maria.” She pronounces it “Ma-rye-ah.” “She’s a maid. It’s not the worst role in the world, but it’s not the best. I’m also the duke’s musician. I think that gives me one more line.”

  Marie is sitting with Harry when we get back to our table, going on about the play and their scenes together. “We should sneak off to rehearse whenever we can,” she tells him as we sit down. “He said he wants us off book by the end of next week. That’s not so hard for people with smaller roles”—her eyes, ever so briefly, graze over Julia—“but I’m terrified!”

  “It’ll be fine,” he says, and greets both me and Julia, who takes a sip of her Diet Coke and says offhandedly, “So where did you and your boyfriend go after the beach, Marie?”

  Marie looks vaguely annoyed by the question. “Just some restaurant.” She turns back to Harry. “The hardest thing to me is going to be pretending to be a boy—I mean, I could play a boy no problem. It’s much trickier playing a girl who’s pretending to be a boy. You know what I mean?”

  “Don’t overthink this one,” he says. “Lower your voice, show some swag, grab your crotch, and wear something that hides your boobs. She will, right?” he says, turning to me. “Wear something that hides her boobs? What’s her costume going to be like?”

  “I’m not allowed to say—Amelia’s worried people will start asking for changes if they find out too early on.”

  “But you’ll tell us, right?” Harry says, with a beguiling smile. He does have an extremely beguiling smile; I’ll give him that. Something to do with those under-eye dimples. “We’re your friends.”

  “I’m open to bribery,” I say cheerfully.

  “I already gave you a brownie,” he points out. “How much more can one man do?”

  “Two brownies?” I suggest.

  Alex and Isabella come over to the table. “I’m Isabella!” she cries out as she gets closer.

  “Yeah, we’ve met you,” Harry says.

  “Shut up! You know what I mean.”

  “You got the role!” He holds out his arms and she bends down so they can hug. “I’m so proud of you. I knew you could do it.”

  She steps back, beaming. “Best of all, Alex is the duke.”

  “Everyone’s a duke,” I say.

  “Is that what you got?” Isabella asks Harry, who nods. “Fantastic! I’m so proud of you.” Another hug. What a huggy duo they are. She slides into his lap and rests her head on his shoulder. “Can I share your food?” she asks. “I’m too tired to go get my own.”

  “What’s mine is yours,” Harry says, and she rips off a piece of his roll and pops it in her mouth, then rips off another piece and pops it in his mouth.

/>   “So you’re one of the leads?” Julia asks her brother, who nods. “I’m just the stupid maidservant,” she says glumly. “It’s not fair. I mean, I’m happy for you, Al, but I care about acting so much more than you do.”

  “I know, and you’re also much better at it than I am.”

  “I’m not saying that—”

  “It’s true.” Alex is totally channeling William to me right now: my brother would have tried to make me feel better too. “It’s just that boy/girl thing—every guy will get a good role because Shakespeare had lots of great male roles and there aren’t as many guys as girls here.”

  “Yeah, Sir Andrew’s going to be played by a girl in our production,” Marie says. “They’re changing the character to Lady Andrea because they don’t want a girl playing a boy since Viola is already a girl playing a boy and they don’t want to confuse the audience.”

  “Which means trannies are completely out of the question,” Harry says.

  Marie taps his shoulder. “Are you going to go see fireworks on the Fourth with everyone? I’m trying to decide if I want to go or not. There’s a party I’ve been invited to—”

  “With James?” Julia asks.

  Marie gives a curt nod. “But I don’t know if I want to go. I hate to miss out on fireworks.”

  “Girls always see fireworks when they’re with me” is Harry’s predictable response.

  “Oh, I’m sure,” she says with heavy sarcasm. “But are you going?”

  “Haven’t thought about it.” He glances at me. “You going, Franny?”

  “I guess,” I say. If everyone else is going, I’ll go. I’m not going to miss out on a fun night away from campus just because I have a stupid childhood phobia.

  I look up and see that Alex is watching me. He gives me a little nod and a reassuring smile. I guess he remembers that fireworks make me nervous.

  On the night of the Fourth, after the bus lets us off on a tree-lined bluff above the ocean, the graduate students hand out candy and popcorn. They brought Frisbees and footballs, too, and we all throw them around, laughing and enjoying the growing cool as the twilight deepens around us.

  It’s fun, but there’s a knot of anxiety inside me that tightens when someone yells, “They’re about to start!”