Sun-Kissed Summer Page 2

  “Hello, folks, this is your captain speaking.” A muffled voice comes over the speaker as we scramble to our seats as quickly as possible, the stewardess giving us a serious dose of side eye as we plop down and buckle up. “There appears to be some inclement weather preventing us from landing in Miami, so sit back and relax. Hopefully, we’ll get the go ahead to take off soon.”

  I drop my head against the back of the seat rest and release the breath I’ve been holding all damn day. So much for being on time.

  Chapter 2

  Oliver

  Three more hours. Well, technically two hours and fifty-six minutes, but really, who’s counting?

  Dropping the half-gnawed pencil from my mouth, I curse the stupid clock and its tick, tick, ticking—especially since it’s digital and doesn’t make a sound. The ticking is all in my head. Like a time bomb, counting down to the second I either get everything I’ve ever wanted, or I blow up the only thing that’s ever mattered. Katie and me.

  Oh, yeah. No pressure. Not. At. All.

  “Okay, enough. It’s just Katie. Your best friend. So quit freaking the eff out,” I say out loud before forcing myself back to the books, or technically the eTextbooks, since all my courses are online. But after rereading the last sentence for the hundredth time, I give up. At least it’s my last assignment for the year, and my A in the class will hold even if I do phone this one in.

  “Who’s freaking the eff out?” my sister Megan says, leaning against my doorjamb with her arms crossed and a smart-ass smile plastered on her face.

  Shit. I grab a pillow off my bed and chuck it in her direction. “No one, now get out. I’m studying.”

  “Studying what? How to tell a girl you’re in love with her? Or are you going with the ‘we’re just best friends’ again this summer?” Megan laughs, using her fingers as air quotes. “You know you’re never getting out of the friend zone with that girl unless you man up and tell her how you feel, right? I mean, she doesn’t really put herself out there like that. Not like her sister, or me for that matter, so you’re definitely going to have to make the first move if you really do want to be more than just friends.”

  Despite thinking about having the I-want-to-be-more-than-friends talk with Katie for the last few weeks—if not years—my mouth still manages to go so dry that it’s hard to swallow at my sister’s not-so-subtle insinuation. Is it that obvious? That I’m in love with my best friend?

  “It’s… not… like that,” I stammer before shutting my laptop closed and getting up. “And anyway, I don’t really need to take love advice from a girl whose relationship is on again, and then off again more than a kitchen light switch. So, if you’ll go, I need to get ready for work. And just so you know,” I say, shooing my sister from my room. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. Katie and I are just friends.”

  And I’m totally in love with her.

  “All right, Romeo, if that’s the way you want to play this.” Megan turns on her heels and saunters away, not buying my shit at all. “Good luck with that,” she says, plopping down on the sofa in our tiny, three-bedroom apartment we share with our mom and flipping on the television.

  “Oh. I’m going to need more than luck,” I say under my breath as I grab my cream-colored polo, the one with the Griddle’s small logo on the front pocket, and toss it on. Because while I might not be ready to admit to Katie I’m crazy about her, my other work shirt, the obnoxious lime-green polo with the large screen-print of a stack of pancakes and a dancing jug of pancake syrup, doesn’t exactly scream sexy boyfriend material. What it does scream is wacky—and that’s Katie’s grandparents, and my bosses, to a T.

  With a quick glance in the bathroom mirror, I snatch up a bottle of aftershave from the countertop and take a whiff. It’s nice, light, and kind of beachy. But it’s definitely not mine. And considering I’m the only guy who lives here—at least full time—it’s not hard to guess who it must belong to. Mom’s newest boyfriend.

  Splashing a couple of drops between my palms, I pat the cool liquid onto my face, thankful it’s not as offending as the last guy’s scent since I swear that guy wore motor oil. So, while this new guy still remains a mystery, at least Mom is over her biker phase, because if the motor oil stink wasn’t bad enough, the dude would fire up his hog at all hours of the night, which made sleeping kind of impossible.

  “Hey, tell Mom I gotta work till close,” I say, stepping out of the bathroom, grabbing my wallet from the kitchen counter, and slipping it into the back pocket of my work khakis. “And then… I’m not exactly sure what I’ll be doing, so…” I trail off, realizing I’m inviting a whole new round of taunting from Megan if I finish my sentence. But it’s true; I’m not exactly sure what I’ll be doing later, since I’m leaving that up to Katie. But most likely, it’ll be a Netflix night given the fact that the first night she gets into town every year since we were ten, we rent a bunch of old movies from the eighties and nineties and pig out. It’s kind of our thing.

  “Whatever.” Megan shrugs. “You smell like a Ralph Lauren ad.”

  Is that good or bad? “Thanks? I think.”

  At my obvious uncertainty, Megan shakes her head and laughs, making me even more unsure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing, but at this point, it’s too late, I gotta go.

  Hopping off the couch, Megan shoves me playfully. “I’m just screwing with you. You smell fine. I’m headed out in a few if you want a ride?”

  “Nah, I’m gonna walk,” I say, opening the front door and letting a wall of humid air rush in.

  “To help with the freaking?”

  Yes. “No.”

  “If you say so, lil’ bro. Oh, and say hi to Katie for me,” Megan says with a smirk as I step out the door before she has a chance to call me out any more than she already has.

  When I get to the Griddle, I’m not surprised to find the indoor tables are only half full, since this is typically the lull between the lunch and dinner crowd, and all the outdoor tables are completely empty, since it’s already ninety-five out and muggy.

  “Hey, Big Pop,” I call out when I get to the small area between the kitchen and the office and start to slip on my apron. “What’cha need me to do today? Bus? Cook? Clean?”

  “Oh, Oliver, there you are, right on time,” Beatrice Quinn, or Grandma Betty as I’ve called her since I was ten, says, waving her arms around the small storage space next to the kitchen. The layers of her beaded jewelry jingle musically with each wave of her hand. “Do you know where the spare jugs of vegetable oil are? I’ve searched everywhere and can’t find them anywhere.”

  I scratch the back of my neck. “Uh, I actually put in a request for you to order more cooking oil last week since we’re out. But what we have in the fryer will be good for at least a few more days. Why?”

  “Oh, that’s right.” Betty drops her arms and sighs. “I remember seeing that on my desk last week. Be a dear and remind me later to write myself a Post-it note to order some more, okay?”

  I hold back a laugh—and a cringe—at Betty and Big Pop’s ordering system, or lack of one, when I peer over her shoulder at the already cluttered desk covered in Post-it notes.

  “Sure. I’ll be happy to remind you, but you know, a computer system could really help out around here with things like inventory management and bookkeeping. I’ve been learning about it in my restaurant management course and could even help set it up and show you and Big Pop how to use it if you want.”

  Betty pats me on the head and lets out a small chuckle like I’m still a child, but I guess she’s known me so long that maybe that’s all she can see me as. The scrawny little boy from down the road who she used to feed breakfast to every morning after Dad split and Mom was struggling to make ends meet.

  “Thank you, Oliver, but when you’ve been doing something one way as long as Big Pop and I have, it’s kind of hard to change. And, really, the last thing we want is to be more on the grid than we already are. Why else do you think we packed up our VW bu
s thirty years ago and moved to Key West? Definitely not to get on the Internet super highway. That’s just not our speed.”

  This time, I can’t help but laugh out loud, imagining a younger Grandma Betty and Big Pop, in out-of-date bell bottoms, driving cross country in a bus that looked like it had seen its fair share of Grateful Dead shows—especially since I know Katie’s mom, and she couldn’t be any more different from her hippy parents if she tried. I bet she loved that. “I guess you have a point, but if you change your mind.” I smile before giving Betty a side hug. “You let me know.”

  “I will, and thank you for the offer, Oliver, but unfortunately, even some fancy-schmancy computer thingy wouldn’t be able to help me out today. I’m completely out of oil and need to leave for the airport any minute. You know, it’s times like this I understand the benefits of driving a gas guzzler. No, no.” She waves her hand and jingles like a one-woman band. “I take that back. I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she says in a whisper, like Mother Earth is in the next room and can hear her talking smack about her refabbed biodiesel engine that runs on pure vegetable oil and is pissed.

  “Oh, to pick up Katie?” I ask, even though I know that’s the only reason she’d drive the three-hour trip to Miami. Well, except if she forgot to put in an order and needed to pick up supplies for the restaurant, like frying oil.

  “Yes, the girls should be taking off any minute, so if I don’t leave soon, I’ll never make it there on time. And you know how Katie feels about being late,” Betty says, her eyes widening to almost comical proportions.

  “Boy, do I.” I exchange a knowing look and chuckle. “But I guess some things never change, and that’s what I love about Katie. Or… you know, what I like about her, like best friends,” I choke out, trying to cover for my stupid ass.

  Way to tell Katie’s grandma how you feel about her before you get up the balls to actually tell Katie, dummy. Fix this.

  “I think Megan is working right now, so I could run over to Sloppy Joe’s and see if they have any spare oil, or you know, I could go get Katie for you? I mean, if you want.”

  “Oh, Oliver, dear, you are a lifesaver.”

  Yeah, that, or I’m just a selfish bastard who wants to spend an extra couple of hours with your granddaughter. But same diff, right?

  “So…” I trail off, waiting to hear if she wants me to get the oil or the girl, while silently wavering between which option I hope she chooses. The familiar sound of metal spatulas clanging against the hot griddle almost drowns out the noise of my heart crashing against my rib cage, but not quite since I promised myself the first chance I got to tell Katie how I feel about her, I will. No more waiting. No more pussyfooting around. No more friend zone.

  It’s now or never.

  Clearing my throat, I steel my shoulders. “I mean, I’d be happy to go and get Katie if you’d like. I can borrow Megan’s car. Don’t worry, it’s safe but…” I drop my voice to a stage whisper and look around the back room like we’re conspirators. “It does run on gas.”

  Grandma Betty lets out a breathy laugh before wrapping me in a hug. Her soft hemp shirt and strong patchouli scent are as familiar to my senses as if she were my own grandma, so I let her hang on just a little longer—glad that some things never change. “Oliver Michael Hayes, you are a real hero… despite your carbon footprint,” she tsks as she pulls away and pats my cheeks, smiling.

  Her smile is as contagious as her environmentalism. “You’re right, you’re right,” I concede. “How about I pledge to walk the rest of the summer to help offset it, and I’ll also stop by and pick up a few gallons of vegetable oil while I’m there? That way, you won’t have to waste any more paper writing yourself a Post-it note to order more. How’s that sound?”

  She claps her hands together, causing the rings on her fingers to chime like bells. “A real hero.”

  “You talking about me again?” Big Pop says, strolling out of the kitchen with flour smudged across his tan, wrinkled face, wearing a smile as big as his middle. “Thought my ears were ringing.”

  “No dear, not this time,” she says, brushing the smudge of flour from his nose. “I was talking about Oliver actually. He offered to go pick Katie up since we’re out of vegetable oil.”

  “But I just got—”

  “Isn’t that sweet of him?” she cuts in, giving him a pointed look. “To go all the way into the city out of the kindness of his heart?”

  Big Pop raises an eyebrow as Betty flits off to the front of the house to seat a couple who just walked in, his smirk growing as he watches her go. “That woman,” he says, shaking his head and chuckling, “is one of a kind.”

  So is her granddaughter, I think before Pop returns his focus back to me. “So, outta the kindness of your heart, huh? Just doing a good deed for some ol’ folks?” The glint in his eye and the tilt of his smile tells me, as I’ve long suspected, that Big Pop is on to me.

  I smile back at the man, who just like his wife, is like a grandparent to me, since I never had any other family around growing up besides my mom and sister. “Just helping out any way I can, Pops.”

  Gerald dusts his hands against his batter-covered apron before pulling out his wallet and handing me two crisp twenties.

  “For incidentals.” He smiles and then lowers his voice, although between the noise of the now-bustling dining room and the even louder kitchen, I’m pretty sure no one can hear us. “You know, just in case you wanted to… I don’t know… take Katie to dinner. Or something,” he finishes in his full voice again.

  Oh, yeah. He’s on to me. Along with my sister, my mom, and probably Grandma Betty, too.

  Shit. At this point, Katie might be the only one left who doesn’t know.

  With a quick glance around the storeroom for hidden vats of vegetable oil, since I wouldn’t be surprised if this is all just some elaborate set up for me to finally man up and tell Katie how I feel considering we’ll have nothing but time to talk on the three-and-a-half-hour drive back to the Keys—I don’t even bother trying to hide it.

  “Or something,” I finally admit, rubbing the back of my neck as I take the twenties and shove them into my pocket. “Thanks, Big Pop.”

  “Anytime, kid.” He smiles as he whips out a spatula from his back pocket, presses his back against the big, black swinging doors that lead to the kitchen, and winks. “I better get back to work, and you, my son, better get on the road. You know how Katie is.”

  Yeah, I do. And professing my love isn’t going to go over so well if she’s pissed off I’m late. With a quick glance at the clock, I rip off my apron and rush out the back door. “Go get her, boy,” I hear Grandma Betty call out from the outdoor seating area, confirming my suspicions. Yep. She knows too.

  …

  Rushing into Sloppy Joe’s Bar and Grille out of breath from running home to change into a pair of cargo shorts and the light green fitted T-shirt Katie said she liked last year, or, I mean, into something more comfortable, I grab the edge of the bar and almost skid to a halt. “Hey. I need your car.”

  “What the hell? Is there a fire or something?” Megan asks, drying a rack of glasses, the bar relatively quiet. “Aren’t you supposed to be at work?”

  “Betty’s out of fuel, so I offered to pick Katie up from the airport. So, can I have the car?” I hold out my hand, hoping I don’t look as desperate as I think I do. But nope. I must, because a wicked grin spreads across my sister’s face, which is never good. She sets the glass she’s drying down on the bar.

  “On one condition.”

  I let out a frustrated sigh. “What?”

  “Mom’s trying to rope Tony and me,” she nods her head in the direction of the bartender/on-again-off-again boy toy, and by the look she gives him, they are currently off again, “into some cross promotion thing with the hotel. So if you and Katie do it instead, the car is yours.”

  “Anything—whatever. Just give me the keys. I gotta go.”

  With a smile that sets me on edge, she tosses the keys in
my direction, leaving me wondering exactly what else I just committed to, considering I already committed to walking for the entire summer. But whatever it is, I hope Katie’s game, too.

  “Oh, and hey, if you see Jess, tell her to hurry her ass up and get back from her cruise so we can party, okay? And don’t forget to tell Katie hi for me.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” I say, running out the door with my heart beating out of my chest. “I’ll be sure to tell her.” Right after I tell her I’m in love with her—which is the only thing I think about for the next three hours and thirty-eight minutes until I pull into the Miami-Dade International airport with sweaty palms and a dozen red roses sitting shotgun.

  This is it. A big, grand gesture. Roses at the airport. That’s good, right? Like romance novel good? Because with as much as she reads, that’s what I’m competing with—all the perfect guys, or book boyfriends as she calls them—and I want this to be epic.

  Chapter 3

  Katie

  After two and a half hours on the tarmac and a little over three in the air, the Miami skyline rises up in the distance like a godsend, divided from the pale blue waters swirling offshore by a large swath of sandy, white beach. And it’s breathtaking.

  “Flight attendants, please prepare for landing,” the captain’s gravelly voice says over the tiny speakers above our seats. The nicest, most luxurious leather seats I’ve ever sat in—thanks to Jessica convincing the flight attendant to upgrade us to first class after takeoff was delayed due to bad weather. Her reasoning? Being stuck in the back of the plane would only delay her further and she might miss her cruise. It also didn’t hurt she mentioned Dad is a lawyer and the first-class flight attendant is a guy, but, really it was just Jess being Jess. Bold, brave Jess.

  “All right, lil’ sis,” Jessica says, turning in her seat to look at me as the landing gear clunks open and the pressure in my ears finally pops. “I wasn’t bullshitting earlier… it’s gonna be way close. But I think if I can get off the plane and get my luggage quick enough, I should be able to grab a cab and still make the cruise.” Her normal fly-by-the-seat-of-her-pants attitude falters for only a brief second before returning with a smile. “I guess it was actually a good thing we were late getting on the plane after all, huh?”