Gregory McLoughlin is probably the last thing I should be thinking about right now, but for some reason his face pops up front and center in my brain. Just a few days ago I admitted to myself that I had feelings for Gregory, and here I am sitting in the sand with another guy and wearing his clothes while he asks me on a date.
But Gregory has never asked me for anything. Yes, he shares my love for nineties music, he co-parented a couple of stray cats with me, and he held me at the hospital while I cried. But I’ve never been sure what he wants from me. He’s never even said he has feelings for me.
And maybe most important, he’s about to move across the country.
I’ve watched Myles from afar for most of my life. He’s sweet and thoughtful, and he pursuedmeand made sure I know just how much he likes me.
He’s a gentleman who offers to drive me home when it’s raining, invited me to hang out with his family, and switches tables with me when customers make me uncomfortable. Plus, I lost my best friend over this guy. That sacrifice should be worth something, shouldn’t it?
He’s looking over at me, waiting patiently but probably wondering why I haven’t responded yet. So I turn to him and smile.
“Yes,” I say. “I’d love to.”
That night, after I’ve changed into my pajamas and climbed into bed, I think about Kat. The salty air flows in through my open window, and I listen to the waves as I sift through memories from elementary school, middle school, and just last year. I think about how different this summer has been—how much she hurt me and vice versa. And I think about what Shelby said today about making mistakes, and my upcoming date with Myles.
I hate the way Kat and I fought and how things ended. Ihave more I want to say, so even though it probably won’t go through and she might never see it, I pick up my phone and open our text thread.
Kat,I type.I know you’re mad at me. I would be mad at me, too. I broke a promise and I’m sorry. I’m sorry for lying to you and that I hurt you. I didn’t want to. But when I think about this summer, there are some things I’m not sorry about, too. I’m not sorry I made new friends after you left. I’m not sorry I had fun with Myles at work, or that I let him drive me home when it was raining. I’m not sorry that I changed this summer, because I think it was really good for me. Myles asked me on a date tonight, and I said yes. He likes me, and I like him. He’s been a good friend to me this summer. So even though I promised you a long time ago that I wouldn’t date him, we both know things are different now. I still care about you and I still miss you. I still want to be your friend and I hope you want that too. So I hope one day you can forgive me—I’ll never stop wishing for it. But if you can’t, well… I’m not going to let that stop me from moving forward. Good luck this year—those New York tennis teams have no idea what they’re in for.
31PLAYLIST:so extra
I HAVE NO IDEAwhat to wear.
It’s only been two days since Myles asked me out (again). We just worked a Pearl’s lunch shift together and decided to go our separate ways to clean up, then go to the pier for food truck tacos and ice cream. It’s low key and it’s exactly what I want. Maybe some girls wouldn’t be impressed by that for a first date, but I think it’s perfect.
Still, I want to up my game alittle. Cutoff denim shorts and a T-shirt aren’t gonna cut it tonight.
I finally decide on a casual sleeveless seersucker dress I got on clearance at Vineyard Vines last year, and guess what? My sandals still look great with it. I do my best with my hair, using a ton of product and my flat iron, and hope Myles will at least see it long enough to appreciate it before I’m forced to throw it up into an elastic.
Even though I walk to the pier all the time, Myles insisted on picking me up. He asked if my dad would want to say hello, which, sure, might be respectful and all, but I said absolutely not. Thank God my dad will still be at work and be none the wiser.
Unfortunately, my mom pulls into the driveway about two seconds after Myles knocks and I open the front door. Instead of entering the house through the garage, she exits to the driveway and crosses the sidewalk toward us, brows raised.
“And where are you two headed?”
“Just to the pier,” I say, hoping she hears the silentDon’t make a big thing of this.
Myles holds out his hand. “Hi, Mrs. Madden. I’m Myles. Myles Ford.”
My mom shakes his hand, assessing him. “Hello, Myles.” She looks at me and says, “Is this a date?” She holds her hand up to shield herself from Myles and mouthsSo cute!
“Mom,” I protest. I want to melt into the concrete. “Can we talk about this later?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Myles chimes in. “It’s a date. Is there a certain time I should have Amelia home by?”
He seems excited, which is awfully sweet. I would have guessed Myles was a pro at dating, but it doesn’t come off like he’s done this a lot.
That gets a smile out of my mom. I suppose I should be thankful he’s such a charmer, and hope the effect lasts until after I get home tonight.
“Thank you for your honesty, Myles,” she says, then looks to me. “Regular curfew, Amelia.”
I nod and take three steps down onto the grass, pulling Myles along with me. I’m ready to get out of here.
“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Madden,” Myles calls out as I drag him to the curb, where his Bronco waits.
I climb into my seat and lean my head back, covering my face with my hands as I groan.
“Really?” Myles asks with a chuckle. “I didn’t think that was bad at all.”
