Our Kind of Love

by Shane Morgan

  We stand there for a moment not saying anything else, until Mrs. Aldridge’s voice cuts in. “What are you two doing just standing around? Customers are starting to come in.”

  Startled, Reign slips away first and treads past her mom. I follow suit shortly. Mrs. Aldridge has a questioning look in her eyes as I walk by her. I make a mental note not to approach Reign when she’s by herself at the restaurant again. Not when her mom’s lurking nearby.

  A few hours before closing, I step out back to take a break, staring up at the starry sky as I visualize Reign’s beautiful face in each of them looking down on me. Man, I’m seriously losing it over this girl.

  “Hey!”

  Surprised, I turn my head fast. Aislin has an eyebrow raised and a cigarette in between her fingers.

  “What?” I ask.

  “Been asking if you got a light?”

  I shake my head. “No. That’s bad for you, anyways.”

  She sucks her teeth then sways over to the brick wall, leaning against it. “That’s what everybody tells me, but it’s my life and it’s now or forever. I ain’t gonna live forever. I just wanna live while I’m alive.”

  Laughter bursts out of me. “Did you just quote Bon Jovi?”

  Aislin turns her head toward me and shrugs, a smile playing at the corner of her mouth. Sticking the cigarette back into the box, she slips it inside her pocket and glance up at the stars.

  It hits me that we haven’t spoken much since yesterday. “How long have you been at Captain’s Choice?” I ask.

  “Almost a year now,” she replies, still looking up.

  “You from Newport?”

  She snorts. “I’m from all over Rhode Island.”

  “Okay…”

  Meeting my gaze, she clarifies, “I’ve been in several foster homes before I turned eighteen. Then I moved to Newport last year and started school.”

  I nod in my understanding.

  “So, what is it with you and Reign’s boyfriend?” I ask.

  Irritation floods her eyes. “He’s fake. That’s what it is.”

  “Ouch.”

  “Yeah, except she’s too nice to see that; he flirts with other girls when he goes to parties without her. Reign’s too good for him.”

  What a jerk. Reign’s not even my girlfriend yet she makes me feel uninterested in others. Is this guy blind?

  “Anyway,” Aislin pushes off the wall and slants to head back inside. “I’m taking off. You want a ride?”

  “No, I’m good. I’ll catch the trolley.”

  She shrugs. “Suit yourself. See ya tomorrow.” Then she turns to leave.

  Shortly after, I change out of my work clothes and scurry out of the restaurant to catch the trolley. It’s not here as yet when I reach the stop. I sit down on the bench to wait. A minute later a silver Corolla pulls up next to me. It’s Reign.

  “Hey, hop in. I’ll drive you home.”

  I want to get in the car so badly, still I fight the urge. “That’s okay. Don’t want to make this a habit.”

  “How is it a habit when I’m the one offering this time and not Claudia?”

  “Still is,” I smirk, not getting up from the bench.

  Reign eyes me intently. “Did my mom give you a warning?”

  “Warning?” I ask in my confusion.

  “She does it whenever a guy around my age starts to work at the restaurant. I’m sorry. It must have made you uncomfortable.”

  I laugh nervously. “Uh, actually she didn’t.”

  “Oh,” Reign gives me that sweet smile again. “Well, expect it to happen soon. Until then, hop in. I’m going that way, anyways.”

  The trolley’s approaching now. All I have to do is say no and get on it. What happened to hands off? What happened to staying away from the boss’s daughter?

  Screw that. This girl is too damn enticing to stay away from. I open the passenger door and climb inside, grinning a little too much.

  “Nice car, by the way,” I say as I buckle my seatbelt and she takes off.

  “Thanks.”

  The drive is fairly quiet. As we draw close to the left turn for my street, I begin to have this feeling that I don’t want to get out of the car yet. I want to spend more time talking to Reign, learn more about whatever it is holding her back in life.

  I press my eyes shut and mentally smack myself for disregarding my own warning. And before I can give any further thought to it, I come right out and ask, “Wanna hang out a bit? I mean, if you’re not too tired.”

  She twirls her head and looks at me, and just as fast bring her eyes back to the road. I figure I’ve crossed a line this time but to my surprise, she says, “Sure. I was actually gonna go to this waterfront lounge up here and catch the last part of a performance. Wanna go?”

  Hell yeah! It doesn’t matter where she wants to go, it could even be to a Celine Dion concert, damn right I’m going with her. “Sure,” I reply. “Take me wherever.”

  Smiling, she drives past my street. I cannot wait to see how this night unfolds.

  EIGHT

  Reign

  NO IDEA why, but I was relieved when Micah asked if I wanted to hang out. Honestly, I find it refreshing to be around someone who isn’t from Newport—someone who doesn’t know me.

  The indie band already finished their performance by the time we arrived at the lounge. And since it’s late and there’s not much to do on a Tuesday night, I suggest we drive down to the pier and hang out there for a while.

  I park nearby and lead Micah to where the boats are, pointing out Aster—the one my dad built for me and Mary.

  The dock is chained off so we can’t get a closer look at it. We stroll over to a bench and sit down.

  “That’s cool,” he says. “You guys must have a lot of fun with that baby.”

  The Aster is sentimental to me and Micah’s a stranger. Only, I feel so relaxed to the point where I almost want to spill everything to him. “Actually, we don’t go out on it.”

  “Long story,” I add when he furrows his brow.

  “And I get that it’s not one that we’re gonna discuss,” he replies, easily understanding.

  He looks behind at the boat and asks, “So your dad builds them for a living?”

  “No…,” I peer down and pick at my jeans as I mutter, “He doesn’t anymore.”

  “What does he do now?”

  Just as I look up he brings his gaze back to meet mine. Surprisingly, I feel a chill run down my spine. I have to fight to catch my breath before I can reply, “He’s still building stuff, only he makes storage benches, chests, bookcases, and the likes.”

  “That’s still crafty. But how come he doesn’t build boats anymore?”

  “He—” I stop myself from going further, saying instead, “That’s another long story.”

  His mouth curves into a grin that arouses a strange tingling sensation in my tummy. I can’t keep myself from smiling, too.

  I quickly find something else to talk about. “How do you like Newport so far? When did you come here, anyways?” I ask.

  “Last Friday, and it’s okay so far; nothing too exciting.”

  “Oh, so you’re looking for excitement?”

  He hunches over and clasps his hands, gazing over at me with a sly grin. “That depends. Are you up to getting me excited?”

  I dip my head back in a short laugh. “Do you always make these flirtatious remarks with your co-workers?”

  Straightening, he creases his forehead and looks at me appalled. “What flirtatious remarks? Relax, sweetness, this is how I am.”

  “Okay, whatever you say, Micah.”

  He shakes his head and glances at the pub across from the pier. They’re turning their lights off. I look at my phone and see its approaching midnight fast, only I don’t want to head home just yet.

  “So, how about I show you around on Sunday, since we open late that day?” Not sure why I offer but I like the sound of giving him a tour of Newport, helping him feel at home here.

&n
bsp; “That’ll be great,” he grins at me.

  We fall silent for a bit before curiosity sneaks up on me. “Are you ever going back to Colorado? What about your family?”

  Micah answers my question with a question. “How old is that boat?”

  I guess he doesn’t want to talk about himself or his family. Taking the hint, I think back to the day when Dad started working on Aster. “It’s about eight years old,” I tell him. Mary died only a year after Dad finished. Of course, I don’t tell Micah that part, or mention anything about having a dead sister.

  He whistles. “And it’s just been sitting here? Come on, you gotta take it out sometime.”

  This is such an intimate topic and it’s making me uneasy now. “I’m feeling kind of hungry. Want a late night snack?” I divert. “There’s a diner down the street that opens late.”

  Micah lingers his gaze on me for a beat before saying, “Sure. I’ll buy.”

  We ease up from the bench at the same time and our hands graze. The touch is brief, yet it tickles my skin and I fear I’ll break out in goosebumps. I’m baffled by my silly reaction. He’s just another guy who works for my mother. I’ve bumped into John, Clark, and others countless times at the restaurant, but I’ve never felt the same intensity that I feel now. It’s weird, because I don’t remember ever experiencing this with Nate, and even weirder that I’m only now remembering my boyfriend. Jeez!

  Looking up at Micah’s face, I realize from the way he wrenches away from my eyes and reaches a hand behind his neck, that he feels that strangeness too. I suddenly want to put distance between us. I have to. Fast.

  “Um…actually, you wanna call it a night? I feel sleepy all of a sudden,” I lie. I’m not sleepy at all. In fact, I could go jogging right this instant, that’s how awake and energetic I feel.

  “Yeah, me too,” he replies, appearing a tad depressed as he shoves his hands inside his jeans pockets and combs the ground for something only he can pick out in the dark. Oh yeah, it’s definitely awkward between us.

  I start moving first, and then Micah falls in stride behind me. We walk back to my car and hop inside, not uttering another word. I drive him home and take off the second he gets out of the car. I don’t even wait until he enters the apartment.

  Our hands brushing against each other plays over and over in my head, and the odd sensation I felt afterwards continues to puzzle me until I reach my house and park behind Mom’s SUV.

  She never beats me home. This is a first only because I went and chilled with a guy who isn’t even my boyfriend. Gosh. That can’t be right in the name of relationships. Then again, didn’t I offer to show him around Newport? I guess it’s a friendly thing to do. I should just relax.

  I calm down and walk inside my house. There’s someone rifling in the kitchen. I tread through the arched doorway to find Dad, dressed for bed, going through the cabinets.

  “Whatcha looking for, Daddy?” I ask, gliding across the hardwood floor over to the island.

  He peers back at me for a moment then continues searching. “I think your mom hid those ding-dongs from me, that sneaky woman. She wants them all for herself when I’m the one who bought them in the first place.”

  I chuckle, “Well, why don’t you just ask her?”

  Finally giving up, he snatches out a box of Saltines instead and gets a bottle of cranberry juice from the refrigerator, pouring two glasses. “She’s relaxing in the tub, and I know she won’t tell me even if I ask.”

  He puts the rest of the juice back inside the refrigerator and passes one of the glasses to me. “Here ya go, honey.”

  I take it from him. “Thanks, Dad.”

  He bites down on a cracker, and I’m about to take a sip when he says coolly, “She’s worried about my health.”

  “Should we be?” I ask, concern cutting through my voice.

  Dad waves me off. “Oh, don’t you get all sappy on me. I’m fine. Anyway,” He wrinkles his thick dark brows as he asks, “How come you’re getting in after your mother? You usually leave her at the restaurant. Did you and Claudia go hang out somewhere?”

  “Ye-yes,” I fumble my reply. Why am I even lying?

  He eyes me for a passing second, then drops his eyes to the granite and drinks his juice. He knows I lied. I’m not good at it, especially when it comes to my parents.

  Dad picks up the box of saltines and glass of juice, walks around the island, and kisses me on the forehead. “I’m gonna head on up to bed.”

  “Okay,” I say as he starts out of the kitchen. “Oh, did you finish that project you were working on late last night?”

  He stops in the doorway and looks at me sideways. “Not yet. But you mind staying out of the workshop until I’m finished?”

  This makes me curious even though I haven’t been going there. “How come?”

  He smiles and says, “You’ll know soon enough. Just stay out for now.”

  I nod.

  “Well, goodnight, honey.”

  “Night, Daddy.”

  Shortly after finishing my juice, I mosey upstairs and into my room, showering before bed. I haul on my blue PJs and climb under the covers, lying there in the dark unable to fall asleep. I can’t stop my mind from thinking about that touch, and Micah’s sexy smile.

  I hear a buzz on the table next to my bed. Reaching over for my cell phone, I see that I have a text. It makes me feel guilty for thinking about another guy.

  Nate: Hey babe. Missed u today.

  Me: Hey what are u still doing up? Partying?

  Nate: u know I hate partying without u.

  I twist my mouth, not really believing him.

  Me: So you say.

  Nate: I’m up thinking about u babe. I miss u. Ask ur mom for the day off tomorrow so we can hang out.

  I consider his request. Some time together will do us good. Before we know it, summer will be over and it’ll be even harder to see each other in fall when Nate goes off to Brown in the city of Providence and I’ll be at URI down here.

  I give in to him. I can’t just spend the entire summer working and neglecting my boyfriend. Mom will just have to understand.

  Nate: Babe?

  Me: OK I will.

  Nate: Awesome! Can’t wait to see u.

  Me: Yeah, me neither. I miss hanging out with u too.

  Nate: Well I’m dozing off babe. Call me tomorrow and I'll pick u up. We’ll go chill at our special place.

  Me: OK see u tomorrow. Nite babe J

  Nate: Nite. Dream about me.

  Me: I will once I fall asleep.

  Nate: Alright. Well I’ll dream about u. Luv u

  He’s been saying that to me. Luv u. Sadly, I can’t say it back even if it’s in text form.

  Back at cha, I send him instead.

  Early the next morning I spring out of bed, put on my pink robe and hasten downstairs to catch Mom before she leaves for the restaurant. Dad’s at the table having breakfast and reading the newspaper, while Mom’s munching on croissants and going over some papers at the island. She turns and regards my appearance as I enter the kitchen.

  Gesturing with her hand, she asks, “Why aren’t you dressed yet? Honey, we open in two hours.”

  I lean against the island next to her and reply in a fake groggy tone, “I’m not feeling so good. Can I take the day off?”

  Mom scoffs, places the half-eaten croissant on the plate and drops her hands on her hips. “You just started helping out again only this week. Reign, we’re already down by one and I don’t want my customers complaining that our service has gotten slow and lose even more of them.”

  “She can have a day, Sophia. Come on,” Dad comes to my rescue. He reaches over and tugs her arm. “You get going. It’s all right if she misses a day. Our daughter is human too.”

  Looking down at him, Mom relaxes her face. She’s unable to stifle back her smile. Gosh, they’re so in love. She brushes her shoulder length hair behind her ears—which is a shade lighter than the cool brown she was rocking a week ago�
�lowers, and gives Dad a kiss on the cheek. “You know, if she was working for some other business, she wouldn’t have such a luxury.”

  “I know that, Mom. I just don’t feel like it today,” I mumble, going over to the table to sit down.

  Narrowing her eyes, she studies me with a questioning look and asks, “Don’t feel like it, or don’t feel good? Which is it?”

  I swallow down the stiffness in my throat, glancing back and forth between them with puppy-dog eyes as I mutter, “I don’t…feel good.”

  Mom presses her lips together, shakes her head in defeat, then she steps over to the island to finish her croissant. Picking up her coffee mug, she turns back to Dad and gives him another kiss, this time on the lips. “I’ll see you later.” Walking over to me, she brushes back my messy strands and pecks me on the forehead. “See you later, honey.”

  “Bye, Mom.”

  She starts out the kitchen, taking up her keys and black handbag off the table by the stairs before going out the front door.

  I pick up a buttery croissant from the platter in the middle of the table and pour myself some orange juice. Dad sets the newspaper down next to his plate. He angles his head to one side and eyes me knowingly. “So, what do you have planned that you don’t want to go to the restaurant today?”

  “Nothing really,” I smile innocently before helping myself to another croissant.

  “Hmm-mmm.” He reaches over and squeezes my shoulder, then rises from the table. “I’m gonna head into town to deliver some things. You be good.”

  “Aren’t I always? By the way, how’s business going?”

  “Good. Business is good.” He doesn’t elaborate. Turning to leave, he utters over his shoulder, “Tell Nate I say hi.”

  Dad doesn’t wait for me to get another word out. He scurries out the front door.