“So is this chip on your shoulderbecausewe made out? Or did you have an issue with me before?”
More than a chip, rather Chip and his siblings and Mrs. Potts herself. Yet I couldn’t bring myself to admit my epic jealousy. “I don’t have any issue with you. I’m sure you’re great.”
“Yeah, I am,” he said easily, leaning against the stair’s rail. “Look, I get it. You were looking for a hook-up you never had to see again. But I’m not going to make this weird.”
“You’re not?” I said warily.
“Course not. Especially since we’re staying down the hall from each other all summer. It could get sticky.” He tilted his head. “Though…it’s a pretty good setup.”
My eyes narrowed. “No.”
“I had to try.” He grinned, but then it fell away, and when he spoke he sounded irritatingly earnest. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable or anything. I really wouldn’t have made a move if I knew you’d be living here.”
“Whatever.” I shoved my frizzy hair behind my ears. “It’s fine. I’ve got to go unpack.” I moved past him, up the stairs and across the porch to the front door.
“No, wait.” He caught my hand, easy with the touch, and for a moment I savored the warmth of his hand, the strength of his fingers. He felt so good, and my body remembered being even closer, so close I could feel every line of his body. “You should say hi to everyone.”
I pulled my hand away. Irefusedto let myself feel anything for Ethan Barbanel, no matter how good our chemistry. Besides, it was probably both impossible and bizarre to crush on someone I resented so much. “I’m tired,” I said, heading inside. I unlaced my boots, placing them carefully among all the Birkenstocks and glittery sandals and practical flip-flops. “I’ll meet them in the morning.”
I thought I could feel Ethan’s gaze on me as I climbed the grand staircase to the second story, but when I turned to look, he was already gone.
In my new room, I moved clothes from my suitcases to the empty dresser and hangers. I’d noticed a gazillion boutiques in town, and I itched to explore them, though they were probably out of my price range. Almost all of my outfits were thrifted, careful finds from the Garment District or Goodwill or Buffalo Exchange.
After showering away the day, I put on my coziest PJs and sent a few photos to my best friend, Grace Davidson: a cedar-shingled cottage covered in roses, a view of three houses sitting on the harbor, and a picture of Golden Doors itself.Wish you were here
Grace responded right away:
Grace:
I wish I WAS there
Not only bc we could have a great photoshoot but bc I too would like to experience New England wealth
Me:
I googled the brand of soap in the bathroom and its $40 a bottle
Grace:
!!!
I respect your commitment to googling strangers belongings
Is the soap worth it
Me:
Honestly yes
It’s a lavender chamomile blend
I feel like I’m in an apothecary
Like if I mixed three of these lotions together there’d be an explosion of purple smoke and I’d have a love spell on my hands
There’s like three dozen Glossier products in the bathroom I’m sharing
Grace:
