I’ve seen him around, but I haven’t talked to him since he walked up on me talking to Iggy. I’ve caught glimpses of him everywhere. At the marina. At the market. Once at dawn, jogging along the beach in the opposite direction. We never cross paths long enough to talk. Which is for the best. I’m not sure what I’d say.
I certainly don’t trust myself. At least not yet.
With a sigh, I turn away from the stupidly gorgeous, distracting man to roll up my mat.
Summer flops down next to me like we’re already the best of friends. “Hey girl, how are you doing?”
I’m grateful to have something other than Caland all his musclesto focus on.
“I was actually wondering if you were busy later?” I say, trying to act casual, as if this hasn’t been brewing all morning.
“Well, that depends. What are we doing?” she says with a grin.
“I didn’t bring clothes,” I say. “Like...any. Birdie is tired of me looking ragged and wants me to go shopping, and I need a partner in crime.”
She looks excited, “Oh, that sounds like a lot of fun.”
Relief floods me. “Really?”
“Absolutely,” she says. “First rule of Coconut Beach is you get fresh clothes.”
“Second rule?” I ask.
“We get coffee first.”
Relief hits me. I made a friend, and I’m finally going to dress decently. Win, win.
We meet an hour later at a little walk-up spot near the beach where there’s a coffee truck. Summer orders us iced matchas and tells me I’m going to love it. It’s green, so we’ll see. I don’t have high hopes.
“Trust me,” she says, handing one to me. “This will change your life.”
I take a sip and groan. “Oh no. This is dangerous. It’s actually good.”
She laughs. “It’s my favorite drink ever.”
Shopping with Summer is effortless. She hands me dresses, linen shorts, and flowy tops, as if she already knows what will work. I try things on. Twirl. Say yes to colors I’d never pick back home. Because most people here on Coconut Beach wear bright and happy colors, and I love it.
“This one,” she says, pointing at a sundress. “You look like you’re a local.”
I check out my reflection in the mirror and barely recognize myselfin a good way.
“You’ve got a story,” Summer says lightly. “And, if you’re willing to tell it, I can be a listening ear.”
A part of me wants to blurt out every awful, sordid detail, but I refrain. I like Summer, but I’m not sure if I’m ready to explain what a mess I am. I’m just barely making sense of it myself. I don’t want to trauma dump on her and run her off after our first friend date.
“I’d like that,” I say and mean it before changing the subject. “Should I try on swimsuits next?”
“Heck yeah.”
By the time we’re done, my arms are full, and my cheeks hurt from smiling.
I didn’t just buy clothes. I bought a version of myself that feels like she might actually feel like me. Not a tailored black suit in sight. I realize I don’t even think I liked those suits. I wonder if I can get my stylist to help me pick out different outfits when I go back to New York. Clothes that feel more like me. With color. I’ve tried so hard to fit into the corporate world that I dressed like the men I work with. I’m realizing it’s okay to be me in that world. I can be bright. I can embrace being feminine.
“Earth to Silvie.” Summer grins.
“Sorry, I just got lost in my thoughts.” I chuckle and look at my watch. “I’m starving. Want to hit up a food truck I saw back there?”
She nods, eyes glimmering. “Hell yeah. I could legit order everything on the menu right now. I’m that hungry.”
