I wasn’t sure he was even paying attention at breakfast when I complimented Cammie’s bob. And I certainly wasn’t expecting him to have an opinion on my hair’s length. If any other guy said that to me, I’d probably trim it out of spite.
“I’ll, uh—thanks.”
He smirks.
I’mgoodat flirting. I’ve successfully flirted with Sawyer. But right now, I can’t think of a single worthwhile, much less remotely seductive, thing to say.
My phone buzzes right as a black SUV pulls up alongside the curb.
Sawyer glances at it too.
“My ride,” I say unnecessarily.
I was planning to mention I might be in the Hamptons this summer, gauge his reaction to the possibility. But I can’t think of a casual way to bring it up, and I’m out of time.
I clear my throat. “Thank you. For … for everything. Really. I’m—last night was the last time I’ll bother you with anything.”
He doesn’t say it wasn’t a bother. He doesn’t say he enjoyed our sleepover. He just nods.
I force a smile, picking up my bag and starting down the front walk toward the waiting car.
“Good luck at UCLA,” he calls after me.
I glance back, but his front door is already swinging shut.
It’s not until I reach the curb and am greeting my driver that I realize I never told Sawyer where I was going to college.
19
They’re not paying attention. Not a single one and especially not Aaron Gibson, who’s been sneaking looks at his phone all morning. Asking him a direct question means a solid ten seconds of him staring at me before providing a wrong answer.
As I’m the most experienced member of the marina staff, training the three new summer hires is my responsibility. Meaning it will reflect badly on me if any of them mess up. I don’t care about many things, but one is this job. Since I don’t have any plans, past working here ending, it’s pretty much all I care about at the moment.
“What did I just say?” I question.
All three jump, and Aaron nearly drops his phone.
One raises his hand tentatively. “Make sure fueling happens first?”
“Before fueling. A renter returns a boat, and you …”
Three blank looks.
I swear under my breath, then start explaining the process all over again.
By the time lunch rolls around, I’m exhausted. I dismiss the guys for their allotted break and walk down to the very end of the main dock so I can stare at the water, unobstructed. I judge most of the wealthy who store boats here, but I’m jealous of all of them. I wish I owned one of these expensive boats so I could climb aboard and sail away. Nothing but sea and sky and peace.
“Rough morning?”
“They’re idiots,” I inform Gus, who’s stopped beside me. “All three of them.”
“They’re young.”
“Aaron is a year older than us,” I remind him. “All morning, they’ve been gossiping about a new waitress. Or on their phones. Or asking pointless questions.”
“I assume you’ve ruled out teaching as a future career path.”
“I’ve ruled outallcareer paths,” I remind him.
