“See you tomorrow,” I agree, breathless. He kisses me again, both hands on my cheeks, and then hurries away around the side of the house, swallowed up by the dark.
I sag back against the porch. I’m exhausted, but I know there’s no way on earth I’m sleeping tonight, not with this electricity still sparking through my bloodstream.
27
It seems impossible that things would go on as normal after something so major, but they do. The next week passes much like the ones before: the B and B gradually begins to resemble an actual home (instead of a war zone), another couple of bookings come through, and I finally perfect the guitar solo on that Weezer track for our Rock Band wars. But there is one big difference, the reason I can’t check my phone without a tiny grin, and why I’m not getting any sleep even though I turn in for bed before ten.
Reeve.
We’ve managed two more secret rendezvous since that night on my front porch: down by the lake one evening, and another midnight escape. I nearly woke the whole house tripping on some stray paint cans, but luckily, no one heard. It feels like everyone should be able to tell something’s up, the way I’m still buzzing with crazy adrenaline, but nobody notices a thing, not even Ethan.
“I’m bored,” he announces at the end of the week. Slumping down until only a mess of brown hair is visible on the countertop, Ethan makes a muffled groaning noise. “I’m so freaking bored!”
“You said that yesterday.” I pause from editing a new video, one of Ethan fishing up at the river. I’m practiced now, but it still takes time: cutting the footage on Susie’s program and uploading it to the site. I’m going to ace my computer tech classes next semester for sure.
“Yeah, but today is worse.” He looks around at the empty aisles, mournful. “We haven’t had a single customer all morning.”
“That’s because everyone sane is indoors.” Brushing damp, sweaty hair from my forehead, I pout. “Why didn’t you tell me your AC was out?” We’ve got eight portable fans set up on a side table, all pointed so the cool breeze blows right at us, but it’s still not enough to keep this heat wave at bay.
“Because then you wouldn’t have come,” Ethan replies. He musters an evil grin, still lying with his cheek against the front desk. “And I’d be stuck here, going out of my mind alone.”
“You suck.” I’m too hot to hit him properly — I just toss an empty packing carton over the register. He doesn’t bother to move.
“There’s nothing to do.”
“We could go to the lake this afternoon,” I suggest. And if Reeve stops by . . .
“Boring.”
“Or film another one of these videos.” Maybe with Reeve along, too . . .
“Mnnaugh.”
“You’re pathetic,” I inform him, even if I am as well — just in a different way. “Tell me that at least your cold water is still running.”
Ethan lifts his head slightly. “Yup. I think there might even be some sodas in the fridge.”
“Joy.” I try to get up, but I’m wearing shorts and my bare thighs are sticking to the seat. I collapse back down. “Maybe later.”
“Uh-huh.”
We stay lounged in our seats until my phone buzzes. I grab for it expectantly, and then pause when I see the number.
“Hey, Mom.” I pull myself out of my seat and head through to the back room.
“Jenna, finally. I’ve been getting your voice mail for days now.”
“I know, sorry.” I trap the phone against my shoulder and pull a couple of ice-cold sodas from the fridge. “I’ve been really busy. Things are hectic, with the B and B, I mean.”
“Well, I’m glad I’ve got you. I still need to talk to you about something.” Her voice wavers. I gulp.
“Can it wait?” I interrupt. “I’m just on my way out. I don’t want the guys to hang around.”
“Oh.” Mom sounds disappointed. “I guess. Can you tell me when —?”
“Sure! We’ll talk soon. Love you!”
I hang up. I’m still determined not to let my parents’ problems creep into my summer, but it’s getting harder to pretend nothing’s going on. Tucking my phone away, I head back into the front of the store just as the bell over the door chimes. I try not to grin when I see who it is. Finally!
“Oh, it’s you.” Ethan sighs.
“Gee, thanks.” Reeve wanders over, looking back and forth between us. “Wow, you guys look bored.”
“See?” Ethan pokes me. I slap his hand away. “Our brains are leaking out,” he explains.
“Speak for yourself. What’s up?” I ask him ultra-casual. “You need tools, or paint, or something from the basement?”
“Uh, nope.” Reeve flashes me a private grin. He’s wearing old cut-off jean shorts that fray around his knees and a khaki-colored tank top, the color making his golden tan glow even darker. “I was just wondering if you guys were going to the festival thing later.”
“No,” Ethan says, at the same time as I ask, “What festival?”
“They have a thing up in Graystone Valley every year,” Reeve explains, ignoring Ethan. “With a fair, and rodeo and stuff. It’s kind of hokey, but . . .”
“That sounds like fun!” I leap at the chance.
“Cool.” Reeve grins back. We share another look.
“I guess if you’re all going . . .” Ethan pulls himself up again. “Is Grady coming too?”
“Maybe.”
“I could try and drag Fiona along,” I suggest. “Make it a group thing.” The more people around, the less chance they’ll notice if Reeve and I get, umm, separated from the group.
“Awesome.” Reeve nods. “I could swing by for you both around five?”
“Sounds good. If I can get her to, you know, be sociable.”
He gives me a wry grin. “Good luck with that.”
The festival turns out to be something out of central casting. I can’t believe it: there’s a Ferris wheel, and carnival rides, and even an actual rodeo with cowboy events and calf-wrangling competitions! Everywhere I look, small children are running around with cotton candy, and people are wearing cowboy hats — un-ironically!
“I think you’ve got enough photos.” Reeve laughs, after I’ve been snapping away for thirty minutes straight. It looks like everyone in a hundred-mile radius has turned out for the event, strolling through the grassy fairgrounds in the evening sun. Above us, the mountains frame the valley with their gray rock, but down here, there’s a riot of color and noise.