Summer Girl

Summer Girl - Chapter 3

Chapter THREE

"What do you mean you didn't text him?" Cay asked me the next afternoon, after I told her about Max.

  We were both working the same shift, like most Saturdays. Eleven to Seven. Saturdays were the busiest for lunch and dinner, so we both always worked both shifts. We always had different sections, but we chatted at the server station whenever we could.

  "What would I have said?" I asked, punching in an order.

  "Uh, that you and your friend - me - want to come and hang out?" Cay laughed.

  "I don't know. We don't even know them," I said, turning towards her.

  "We don't know anyone! I only know you, really. And you have lived here your whole life and you don't..."

  "Thanks, that was really nice," I said, then burst out laughing.

  "Sorry. But it's true. We should just start meeting people. It's our time!" Cay yelled.

  "I don't know," I said again. "Oh, I forgot to tell you. It's my birthday in two weeks."

  "Your eighteenth!?" Cay asked, so excited.

  "Yeah. And... my aunt and uncle are leaving for a month, just after my birthday," I added.

  "Wait, what? Leaving?"

  "For a trip. Vacation to Spain."

  "You'll have that whole beach house to yourself?" she asked.

  Cay moved to Siesta Key from Orlando, by herself. She rented a tiny cottage downtown, a few  blocks from the main strip. I'd only been there once, and it was a bit creepy, actually. She said she was happy to be in Siesta and on her own, but the cottage was literally falling apart under her feet.

  "I guess so. My cousin might come stay for a bit, but..."

  "Holy shit. We can have parties? Like, beach parties!" Cay ignored that last part.

  "Well, I don't know. Who would we invite?" I smiled at her. "I have to go check on tables."

  An hour before I was off, Max was standing at the bar, grinning at me. I blinked a few times to be sure I wasn't seeing things.

  "Hey," he said, as I stepped closer to him.

  "Uh, hi."

  "I'm picking up an order for take out," he told me, then added, "My Dad doesn't cook. We've already eaten here like four times in two weeks."

  "Ahh. What's the name on the order? I'll see if it's ready," I said, trying to sound casual.

  "Donovan. Also, why didn't you text?" Max asked, then gave me a smile.

  "I..." I turned away. "I'll check for your order." 

  When I came back with it, he was standing, waiting. I held out the bag to him.

  "So, I've never really asked for a girl's number before," he began, then laughed. "But you are making this harder than it needs to be. Can I have your number?"

  "No," I shook my head.

  "Why?"

  I sighed. "I don't know."

  "Will you please do me a favour and text me then? Tonight?" he asked, making a cute puppy dog face. His eyes were so round and brown, like chocolate.