“And you were going to share this like, when? Tomorrow?” Lauren sticks her lower lip out.
Mrs. Mitchell runs interference. “Lauren, give the poor girl a chance to tell her story. This is hot. Girl meets boy at the fruit stand.”
“No! Not at the fruit stand. In the produce section. Just like in the movies,” I argue.
Lauren waves her arm. “Whatever. Just finish!”
“That’s it. He takes my number, plugs it into his phone, and saunters away. And it was a damn fine view from the rear, too. That man left a trail of smoke behind him, I declare.”
“Hmm. I think I need to start hanging out at Whole Foods,” Lauren mumbles.
“I don’t know. But honestly, he’ll probably turn out to be a jerk like the last four guys I’ve dated. I do have that jerk magnet thing going.”
“Maybe you’ve been demagnetized. You never know.”
The rest of the day is spent out on the beach, soaking up the sun, playing beach volleyball, eating, drinking, and having the best time. Berkeley, Carrie, Britt, and Hayley—my other besties, official advisory council, and general I-don’t-know-what-I’d-do-without-them-in-my-life—show up later in the morning, and Mrs. Mitchell makes a bunch of sandwiches to feed the troops, like she always does.
We all go out to body surf and the waves are a little rough. Britt ends up flashing everyone on the beach when she stands up sputtering out salt water and her bathing suit top is askew from getting caught in the curl. Carrie and Hayley laugh so hard they can’t tell her and the rest of us are behind her, so we don’t see it until the nipple show is a done deal. A group of guys give her a standing ovation and offer her a beer as we walk back to our chairs. Britt, being the good sport she is, laughs at their gesture telling them the least they can do is offer her an import instead of the crappy domestic they’re trying to give her. That sends us all into fits of laughter, and even the guys love it.
As the day winds down, Carrie suggests Home Team on the island for dinner and drinks, and it’s a no-brainer.
“God, I love this place,” I say around a mouthful of wings after our food arrives.
We all mmm over the yumminess of what we’re eating, and afterward move to the bar area to mingle with some people we know.
“So, Sam how’s business?” Berkeley asks.
“Banging, actually.” I own an event planning company specializing in corporate functions. I started out right after college, and two years later it’s gotten to the point where I’m turning away business.
“That’s awesome. I knew you were hiring. I was going to check with you about scheduling something for the electric co-op in the fall.”
“Cool. Call me and we can put it on the books.”
Turning to set my empty glass on the bar, I glance to my left and notice someone who’s been pursuing me like the devil.
“Lauren, he’s here,” I say.
“Who? Produce god?”
“No!” I elbow her in the ribs. “Trevor.”
All the girls lean in. Lauren says, “Where?”
I tell them, “Eleven o’clock. Don’t you dare fucking look.”
“Too late. He’s checking your ass out,” Berkeley says.
Britt agrees, “Yeah, is he ever.”
“How can he see my ass in this crowd? Wait, is my ass that big?”
“Shut the hell up,” Berkeley yells over the noise. “You barely even have an ass.”
“Oh, God, I’m not one of those flat-assers, am I?”
“Ugh. Stop!” Berkeley groans. “And no, you’re not.”
“Oh, crapsickles, here he comes,” I say
Trevor is the beach hottie. Kite surfer, tanned, muscular, and the total package kind of guy all the girls want to date. He’s also the one who fucked me over about nine months ago. We’d been together for about seven months when I caught him in a drunk moment kissing another girl at a club downtown. I broke up with him, or maybe I should say he broke up with me, as in broke me up. At one time, I thought he might have been the one. He professed all kinds of things to me from loving me to us feeling each other’s souls, and then WHAM! I catch him with his tongue down another girl’s throat. Afterwards, he claimed he was out of it, didn’t know what had gotten into him, that she came out of nowhere, and he wasn’t into her at all, and blah blah endless blah. In his words, it was all one-sided on her part. I called bullshit. If that were the case, why was he deepthroating her with his tongue and why were his arms wrapped around her like ivy? And was he going to do that with every woman he came across when he was drunk? Thanks, but no thanks. I walked away, but about three months later after I’d gotten over him, he started calling me.
The calls were infrequent at first, but then he started doing little things like leaving large Starbuck’s lattes and blueberry scones on my porch a couple of mornings a week. And then lunch deliveries started occurring, and not just any lunch. He sends over my favorite salad from one of my favorite restaurants, Cru Café. And the weird thing is it always happens when I’m too busy to grab lunch myself, so I can’t help but actually appreciate it. Honestly, he’s beginning to put a chink in my armor, and it bothers me.
Lauren and Berkeley both hit my ears at the same time. “Give him a chance,” Lauren advises.
Berkeley says, “The word is, he hasn’t been with anyone at all since that night.”
“How nice. I’ve heard this from both of you before. I’m not deaf, you know.”
“Hey, Sam. Ladies.” Trevor flashes his super charming smile.
“Hi Trevor. What’s up?” Berkeley asks.
“Same old, you know. Can I get you all a drink?”
“Sure. Vodka soda double lime, for me, please,” I say. He gets us all drinks, and we stand smushed up together in the crowded space and chat.
At some point, Lauren gives me the thumbs up. So do the others. Then they fade away into the background. Now my nerves hit. Trevor lifts his drink and we toast. I don’t want to be alone with him. I’m not ready for this, because I’m sure he’s going to ask me out.
“To a great rest of the weekend,” he says.
“I’ll drink to that.”
“So what’ve you been doing, Sam? I haven’t seen you around the last couple of weeks.”
“Yeah, I’ve been a little busy. A lot of events.” I feel like fidgeting, but I manage to keep my cool.
“So, business is good then?”
“Yes, it is. And you?”
“You know, summer is my time so I’ve been loving it.”
“That’s great,” I say.
“You look really awesome tonight.” He smiles. His sun-bleached hair and hazel eyes make a perfect match for his megawatt grin. He certainly is gorgeous. But the trust factor weighs heavily on my mind. I still have that image of him twisted up in that other woman’s arms, practically swallowing her tongue. The thought almost makes me gag.
“Thanks,” I say, forcing the image out of my head.
I look up to see him staring at me. His eyes zero in on my mouth, like they always do, and it’s a little unsettling, so I divert his attention by asking him, “Did you come alone?”
“No, do you know my new roommate, Robert?”
“Don’t think so.”
“Oh, well, he’s here somewhere in this crowd.”
Our conversation is a bit stilted, but it could be that it’s so jammed in here.
“Hey, can I take you out to dinner Friday?”
He hasn’t hidden the fact he wants to get back together, but I haven’t hidden the fact that I don’t trust him.
“Um, I don’t know, Trevor.”
“Come on, Sam. It’s been almost a year and it’s just dinner. You have to eat, right? And people change.”
He nudges my shoulder with his own. The teasing tone of his voice and his playful smile has my resolve crumbling. Not to mention I’m such a pushover. Damn it!
“Yeah, I guess. But before I can say it’s a for sure thing, I need to check my work calendar at home because sometimes Fri
day evenings are booked with events. And don’t take this any other way than just a meal between friends, okay?”
“Yes, just a meal.” He seems sincere.
“Can I text you tomorrow?” I ask.
“Most definitely.”
Oddly, as I watch him, a picture of a messy-haired gray-eyed god standing next to a display of honeydews pops into my head. Where the hell did that come from? I give my head a firm shake.
“Sam?” Trevor is clicking his fingers in front of my face. “You with me here?”
“Oh, sorry. I had a momentary brain lapse. It was a really crazy week and I was in the sun all day. You know how that goes.”
“Sure. And alcohol isn’t helping either, no doubt. Hey, you aren’t driving tonight, are you?”
“Oh, heck no. I’m a passenger in the Mitchell’s golf cart.” I laugh.
“Huh?”
I explain this one. “I’m staying with Lauren at her parents’ house here on Sullivan’s and we brought their golf cart.”
“Oh, right. But still, be careful. They can ticket you even in that thing.”
“Yeah, I know. But Mr. Mitchell said they would come and get us if we needed a pick up.”
“Lucky you. Oh, to be spoiled by parents like that.” He grins.
I make a face and squeak, “I know. And we seriously do not take it for granted.”
“That’s good.”
“So, another round?”
“Sure, and do you mind if we hunt down my friends?”
“Not at all.” Trevor buys me another drink but not one for himself. I notice and mention it to him.
“Yeah, I’ve cut back on the stuff. After what happened when, well, you know, I decided that this,” and he holds up his bottle, “had taken the best from me and I wasn’t going to let that happen again.”
“Oh, well, that’s good.” But then I have to wonder if he’s doing it for show. Again, there’s the trust thing.
Berkeley is easy to locate. She’s standing right in front of the band, dancing and singing like a groupie. She’s throwing off all kinds of signals to the drummer that she’d be a willing partner if he’d give the go ahead. The way he keeps checking her out, I’d say he’s interested. I hope she doesn’t end up hooking up with him tonight. That could be a little awkward in the morning, trying to explain it to Lauren’s mother.
The rest of the gang are scattered. The night wears on and at one point, when I’m coming out of the bathroom, an arm snags me, pulls me around the dimly lit corner and I find myself being kissed. I’ve no doubt it’s Trevor, his lips and mouth still familiar all these months later, but why am I picturing a dark-haired sinfully sexy stranger instead?
“Mmm, that was nice.”
“Trevor, that went beyond what I consider just friends.”
“I’m sorry. I’ve been dying to do that forever.”
I blow out a frustrated breath.
“I take it I’ve just blown my hopes of any chance with you,” he says.
“To be honest, I don’t know what to think. Every time I look at you, an image of you and that girl pops into my head.”
“Can’t you let that go? I have. That was only a drunk moment. It was nothing.”
“But that’s just it. It was something. To me. And I worry it’ll happen again.”
He picks up my hands. “It won’t. I’ll never do anything to risk losing you again.”
I shrug. “Let’s drop it.”
“Will you still consider Friday, then?”
I nod. “I’ll text you tomorrow. I’m staying out here, but I’ll check as soon as I get home.”
“Sounds cool. And thanks, Sam.”
I watch as he walks away and any number of women would be drooling and chasing after him. Why not me?
Later that night, Berkeley, who I’m glad came home with us, Britt, Lauren, and I all sit at the counter in the Mitchell’s kitchen, eating and drinking. All the girls start quizzing me about Trevor. But the big question is about us going to dinner. When I drop the bomb, they all give me hell.
“What do you mean you don’t know if you want to go out with him?” Lauren practically yells.
Sticking my finger over my lips, I say in a very loud whisper, “Hush! You’re going to wake your parents!”
“I don’t care. You’ve wanted him to come crawling back, telling you how sorry he was for how long now? And now that he has, you say you’re not sure if you even want to go? What the hell, Sam?”
I groan, “That’s not exactly true. I’ve always said I wished he would crawl back and say he lost the best thing ever. I mean, what girl wouldn’t after catching her guy kissing another woman? And I’ve also said I doubted I could trust him again, but that he was starting to get through my wall. It’s weird, though because when I was coming out of the bathroom, he kissed me, and nothing.”
Berkeley asks, “Whad’ya mean, nothing?”
“I felt nothing at all. It was like kissing the wall. Or my stuffed koala bear.”
Lauren answers me. “You don’t even have a stuffed koala bear.”
“Well, if I did, that’s what it would’ve felt like.”
Lauren is quick to reply. “Ugh, you’re so damn picky. You know what? You don’t have a jerk magnet. You’re just too, oh, I don’t know what you are.” Her hands fly up in the air.
Berkeley throws an arm around me. It’s a good thing I’m sitting or it might have knocked me down. “Hey, leave her alone. If she doesn’t like him, she doesn’t like him.”
I stick out my arm, yelling, “Wait! I didn’t say a thing about not liking him. That’s not it at all. I don’t trust him. And now I feel there’s zero chemistry. How can you date someone when there’s no chemistry?”
“Chemistry shemistry. That’s crazy. Chemistry is overrated. That all goes away anyway.” Lauren hops to her feet and stands there, looking convinced of her statement.
“Oh, really? When?” I ask.
“When you both have false teeth sitting in dishes on your bedside tables,” she says.
“Eww! That’s nasty, Lauren! And besides, I brush and floss.” This is the first we’ve heard from Britt. I think she had too many Red Headed Sluts tonight.
“Thanks for that commentary on your dental hygiene, Britt,” I say. She stands up and bows. Oh, God, help me. “So, Lauren, what you’re saying is that chemistry isn’t important. And neither is trust, apparently. I call bullshit on that. How many guys have you dated without either of those?”
“Oh, my. You are getting emotional over this. You even swore and you never swear,” Lauren commented.
“Quit trying to distract me. And yes, I do swear, but not very often. I swear all the time in my head, but you know how my mom is. She would always get after us if we so much as got close to saying a bad word, always wanting Laney and me to be proper young ladies. Now answer the question,” I demanded.
“A ton. You know what I think? I think your Produce God has your thoughts all skewed.”
“Produce God?” Berkeley asks.
“Yes, you know, Whole Foods guy,” Lauren explains.
“Oh, right.” Berkeley says.
“He has not.” I disagree.
“Has too.” Lauren argues.
“Whatever,” I huff. I notice we haven’t heard from Hayley, and when I glance around, it’s no surprise to find her asleep on one of the couches. It’s probably a good thing because I’m sure Happy Hayley would side with Trevor too.
Lauren adds, “If he’s not important, you should go out with Trevor anyway. If it’s not fun, you have a miserable time, or ultimately decide you’ll never ever be able to trust him again, then that can be it. Don’t see him again. At least you tried. If you don’t try, Sam, you might be kicking yourself in the ass. What if Produce God never calls? You don’t even know him.”
Her point is difficult to argue with.
“Okay. I’ll go out with Trevor. Not so much because of what you said. It’s more like if I don’t go, I’ll never hear the
end of it.”
Lauren jumps out of her seat and yells, “Thank the dating gods, she’s seen the light! Now that we have that settled, there’s one other thing. Have you made your decision yet?”
I let out a long groan. “Noooo. Did my Mom call you again?”
“Yeah, this morning while I drove out here.”
The other girls are quiet.
“Look, I’m not going to say anything other than I wish you’d give it some thought, Sam. Please don’t wait too long,” she pleads.
“I promise I’m not. I have time.”
Lauren offers me a weak smile. “Now Berkeley, tell us all about the guy in the band you practically dry humped on stage. I was worried you’d end up hooking up with him tonight.”
I mentally thank her for the segue as everyone’s focus shifts to Berkeley. Mine has shifted from Trevor to my looming health issue and then I force it quickly back to the image of the produce dude. I’ll be praying to the dating gods he calls me real soon. Because I sure would like to taste a little sample of him. Okay, maybe a big sample.
My phone goes off on Saturday morning like there’s a nuclear crisis with texts from Karen. Love me then hate me is the theme. Warning bells from the sheer number of texts send me from Whole Foods straight for Home Depot wondering if she’s stolen a key to my house.
When I make it back, I find my father sitting in my living room watching the U.S. Open, forever the golf fan. I’d forgotten I’d given him a key. Clearly, I was worried about the wrong person having one.
“Dad?”
He mutes the TV. “Surprised you’re up early. I knocked. You didn’t answer. I figured you might be sleeping somewhere else.”
Stories I’ve heard about Dad from my grandmother suggest he was a lady killer, so the annoyance in his tone has to be because of something else he sees I’ve done wrong. Then again, he always seems annoyed with me.
“Actually, I made a run to Home Depot.” I show him the bag.
“What could you possibly need at this time?”
I hate getting up early in the morning and only do it because Dad expects it. On the weekends, I try my best to sleep in. But lately, sleep eludes me.
“You don’t want to know.” I wave a hand to dismiss this line of conversation.
A Mess of a Man Page 3
