I sigh, unreasonably annoyed, and I feel him chuckle against my ribs. Even in the breeze his familiar scent surrounds me. I clear my throat. “Gregory, this is Kat Barlowe, Kingfisher Cove local who recently moved to New York. And this is her friend Felicity.”
Felicity waves, and Kat shines with her megawatt smile. The last time I saw it, she was trying to get the guy working the popcorn stand at the movie theater to give us our snacks for free. (It didn’t work.)
“Gregory moved here at the beginning of summer. Came all the way from the desert.”
“Like, Africa?” Felicity asks, eyes wide and oblivious. I glance at Kat, who looks positively mortified.
Gregory, to his credit, rolls with it. “Nah, Arizona. It’d be cool to visit Africa someday, though.”
“Arizona has the best hair weather,” I say, ruffling his.
Gregory pinches my shoulder, and I twist away from him with a squeal. Kat and Felicity look both confused and envious.
“Inside joke,” Gregory says. “So how does it feel to be back, Kat?”
“Great,” she says. “Especially today. Summerfest is the best day of summer.”
“We haven’t missed a single one since kindergarten,” I say. “It’s probably tripled in size since then.”
The line moves forward a little, and we go with it. I’m not even sure which food truck line we’re in—they’re all good, so it doesn’t really matter—but I hope it has a lobster roll.
“I bet back then we’d have much better odds of winning at cornhole,” Gregory says. “When I signed Amelia and me up, we were team number thirty-seven. Thirty-seven!”
Kat frowns at me. “Cornhole? We never play cornhole.”
Gregory raises his eyebrows at her tone, and I shoot her a look like,Don’t be rude. “I know, but I thought it could be fun to try something new this year,” I say. “If we win, we get a year of pies from Mrs. Reacher, and that’s gotta be worth at least a million dollars.”
Kat just offers a generic hum in response, her brow still furrowed.
“Your dad told me Summerfest all started as a town volleyballchampionship,” Gregory says to me, probably trying to dispel the weird energy suddenly permeating our little group.
“Really?” I say, because I had no idea. “I’m not sure if they even still do that competition.”
“They do,” Gregory says. “He organized a team from the store and roped me into filling a spot. We start at six.”
My brows shoot up. “You play beach volleyball?”
“Why do you sound so surprised?”
“Because it’s a ball sport and I’ve never seen you play it. And you’ve never mentioned it. And you’re from a landlocked state.”
“Arizona probably has a lot of sand,” Felicity puts in.
Gregory points at her and nods, like,Thank you!But then he elbows me good-naturedly. “Okay, honestly? I’ve never played. When your dad asked me, I warned him that I’d probably suck, but he said he’d take his chances. Said his only other option was you, so.”
I’d like to be offended by that on principle, but I’m really, really terrible at volleyball, and it hurts my arms. I’d rather get up at dawn for a week straight than fill in on my dad’s team, which is really saying something.
“I can’t wait to watch this.” I stroke my chin. “Do they sell popcorn anywhere around here?”
“You’re so tall, I bet you’ll be fine,” Kat says, and I frown at her. I’m just messing with Gregory—that’s what we do. She doesn’t need to defend him from me.
“Yeah, Amelia. I’ll be fine.” He waggles his eyebrows, and I stick my tongue out at him.
“So, Gregory, do you like tennis?” Felicity asks.
“Not really.” He leans into me a little. “I’m more of a music guy.”
A light bursts open in my rib cage.
