by Shana Norris
“Oh yeah, Carter. Tall jock type?” His eyes darted toward Paisley, who was now staring intently at her abandoned sundae bowl as if it were the most fascinating thing in the room.
I found my voice. “And this is my cousin, Paisley. She’s visiting from Atlanta.” Something popped into my head. “Didn’t you say you’re from Atlanta?” I asked Rory.
He nodded. “Yeah, but Atlanta’s a big city. It’s easy to feel like you don’t know anyone there.” He stretched his hand toward Paisley. “Nice to meet you. Paisley, right?”
Paisley shook his hand, flashing him a big smile. “Nice to meet you, too. Dory, is it?”
“Rory,” he and I corrected her at the same time. I glanced at him, heat rising up my neck.
“Oh, oops. Sorry.” Paisley giggled, tossing her auburn hair over her shoulder. She hopped off the barstool. “Aunt Andrea just texted me. I’m going back to Mimi and Pop’s. Catch you there later, Kate.”
“You’re going to walk?” I asked. I couldn’t imagine her taking the thirty-minute trek back home, especially in the wedges she was wearing.
Paisley shrugged. “My legs work fine, last time I checked. Or maybe I’ll find the nearest bus stop. Or hitchhike. See you later.”
She scooted off her barstool and out the door before I had a chance to even open my mouth. I hoped she was joking about the hitchhiking part.
Rory was still right in front of me. His forearms and twine bracelets rested on the countertop in between the metal napkin dispensers and cups of red spoons. “So … ice cream?” I asked, gesturing toward the many tubs of flavors and colors.
“Yeah,” he said, his bright green eyes scanning the ice cream names and descriptions behind his thick-framed glasses. “I’ll take a rocky road cone.”
He looked like a rocky road kind of guy. You could tell a lot about a person by the flavor of ice cream they chose. Rocky road meant that he was fun and offbeat, though not too far out there.
I made his ice cream cone quickly and handed it over to him, our fingers brushing as he took it from me. I cleared my throat and rang up his purchase, trying to ignore the sensations tingling up my arm.
“I’m still not thinking about you,” I told him with a smirk.
Rory tilted his head. “Were you supposed to be?”
“You’re the one who thought so,” I reminded him.
Rory pouted. “Well, that sucks. I’m so much fun to think about.”
I shrugged. “Not as much fun as Channing Tatum, you know.”
Ashton’s eyes lit up. “Now he is fun to think about!”
“He’s just some overpaid celebrity who you all only like because you’re told to like him,” Rory said, rolling his eyes.
We argued about Channing Tatum until Ashton got so heated, Rory abruptly changed the subject.
“So, Kate,” he asked, darting glances at Ashton like he was afraid of her pouncing. “How long have you been making ice cream?”
I laughed. “Two years. It’s a pretty good job. My boss is cool.”
“Lucky. I worked for a guy at this burger place in Atlanta last year who was always on my case about every little thing. I only lasted two weeks before I couldn’t stand it anymore.”
I tilted my head to one side, studying him. “I can’t imagine you flipping burgers.”
“Oh, really?” he smirked. His smile just a little crooked. “What do you imagine me doing then?”
He had a bit of ice cream on his lip, which I couldn’t look away from. “Work the fryer,” I answered. He laughed. “No really,” I said. “Something edgier. Like … working at a carnival.”
“Yeah,” Ashton said. “Like at one of those midway games. Ring toss!”
Rory laughed. “I’m sure my mom would love that. Except how about a lion tamer?”
“You never know until you try,” I told him.
The bell over the door rang, snapping me back to the present moment. I turned away from Rory to greet and serve the customers who had just walked in. My hands shook a little as Carlos and I prepared their sundaes. What was wrong with me? My stomach was twisting and turning a million circles each second.
“You okay?” Carlos asked me as he scooped another spoonful of key lime ice cream.
“What?” I blinked at him. “Yeah. You were the one swooning over my cousin. I should tell Amanda.”
A look of genuine terror clouded Carlos’s face. “Just finish up that sundae, Watts.”
I bent over the ice cream and finished making the customer’s order. Focus, Kate.
When I returned to the other end of the counter, Ashton and Rory were chatting about Ashton’s art installation for the new gallery in town. Was I imagining things, or did Rory’s expression look happier when I came back? His eyes were definitely wider and his mouth curled into a sort of smile.
“So, Ashton tells me she’s got to get to work soon,” Rory said. Ashton sighed and scooted off her chair. She worked for Hannah’s Aunt Lydia as an art assistant, which mostly involved running errands. “What are you up to today, Kate?”
“I’m working until five,” I said. “No plans after that.”
“There’s that open mic night at the diner you told me about,” Rory said. “Mona’s?”
I nodded. Heat flushed my face. Was he serious about asking me out this time? “Oh, yeah. That.”
Smooth, Kate.
“I’m thinking of taking my guitar out there and playing a couple of songs,” Rory said. He twisted a bracelet around his wrist. “You should come.”
There went my stomach again. Was this hanging out? A date? Or did he even care whether I actually went or not?
I thought about yesterday, when he just ran off. I didn’t want a guy who played games and kept me confused. Besides, I’d be leaving for college in a month. This wasn’t the time to really start anything new.
“Sorry,” I said, “I have plans.”
Ashton shot me a wide-eyed look and let her spoon clatter to the bottom of her tall milkshake glass like she couldn’t believe what I was saying. I ignored her and kept my gaze on Rory, fighting back all the swirling sensations in my stomach.
“Okay,” Rory said. “That’s cool. Maybe next time?”
“Yeah,” I said, shrugging and trying to sound as if I didn’t care. “We’ll see.” Rory grabbed a pen from the counter and scribbled something on a napkin. “Here’s my number, if you change your mind,” he said as he slid the napkin across the counter toward me.
I looked down at the number, blinking. It didn’t match the number I’d gotten texts from that morning at all.
“Wait. What number did you text me from this morning?”
Rory shot me a puzzled look. “You must have been dreaming. Sounds like a good one.” A cocky smile lit up his face. I scowled.
“More like a nightmare,” I said. But if he didn’t text me—who did?
Rory finished the last of his ice cream cone and then slid off his chair. “Well, I’ll see you guys around. Kate, you should consider changing your mind.”
“Bye,” Ashton called as he left. Once he was out the door, she spun back around to face me, her eyes blazing. “I can’t believe you did that!”
“Did what?” I said innocently.
Ashton’s arms flailed. “The guy obviously likes you! He was asking you out. And you turned him down?”
I avoided meeting her gaze as I cleaned the countertop. “I told you, I have plans. I’m doing something with Pop.”
Ashton snorted. “I know when you’re lying, Kate Watts, and you’re making that up. Why would you turn down a hot guy like that?”
“He’s not that hot,” I said. I lied—he was that hot. “And it’s my last summer before I go off to college. I can’t start something with some guy when I have too much else to think about.”
“You can have a little fun before you go off,” Ashton pointed out. She picked up a napkin and waved it at me. “There’s nothing wrong with that.”
“I’ve had more boyfriends than you, r
emember?” I teased, tossing my washcloth at her.
Ashton tossed it right back at me, slapping me in the face. “Holding hands with Pete Goodwin in second grade doesn’t count.”
“I’m not interested in Rory,” I insisted.
“Your body language says otherwise. Blush much?”
I narrowed my eyes at her. “Fine. He’s cute. But I don’t even know him.”
“Then go to open mic night and get to know him,” Ashton told me. She pushed the napkin with his number out toward me.
“I told you, I have plans,” I said. Then I crushed the napkin into my back pocket.
When I walked into the kitchen after work, I found Andrea, Paisley, and Pop seated at the table, looking through the newspaper.
“This one looks like fun,” Paisley said, pointing to an ad in the corner of the page.
Pop peered closer at the paper through his reading glasses. “I’m not sure that my back is up for zip lining, Paisley.”
Her eyes sparkled as she grinned wide. “You never know, Pop. You could be a pro at it.”
The three of them laughed before Pop noticed me hovering in the doorway. “Hey there, Katie-bug,” he greeted me. “How was work?”
“Torturous,” I said. Crossing the room, I gave him a kiss on his scruffy cheek and then looked down at the newspaper spread out before them. “What are you guys doing?”
“Aunt Andrea and I are taking Pop out tonight,” Paisley told me. “We’re trying to find something we’d all like to do.”
“Which isn’t as easy as you might think,” Andrea added, her eyes scanning the paper.
“Maybe we should just take Pop shopping,” Paisley said, looking at him with a critical eye. “He could use a makeover.”
“Yeah, you guys can break the world record for most shopping excursions in a 24-hour period,” I said.
Andrea ignored me, nodding at Paisley instead. “He certainly could use a makeover. He needs two stylish ladies like ourselves to turn him back into the hottie he used to be.”
Pop shook his head firmly. “I’d rather try zip lining than let you two dress me up. What do you call those things people are wearing now? Skinny jeans? My legs lost their skinny long ago.”
But Paisley and Andrea were already turned toward each other, laughing and making plans. They didn’t even notice when I left the room and headed down the hall.
Mimi stuck her head out of the laundry room as I approached. “What’s all that stomping about?” she asked. “It sounds like a herd of elephants going through the house.”
“Sorry,” I muttered.
Mimi tilted her head to the side, her wide brown eyes studying me. “You okay, sweetie? You don’t look like you’ve had a good day.”
My breath came out in a long whoosh as I collapsed against the wall. “The last couple of days have been really weird, Mimi.”
“Want to talk about it?”
“Not really.” I scuffed my shoe across the carpet, watching the patterns that appeared in the fibers as I moved my flip-flop back and forth. “I just don’t get it.”
“Get what?” Mimi asked. She had stepped back into the laundry room and returned to folding the towels from the dryer, but she looked at me as she worked.
“I don’t get why Andrea is spending so much time here,” I said, keeping my voice low so they couldn’t hear me in the kitchen. “I mean, she’s never wanted to be here much before. Now it’s like we can’t get rid of her.”
“Maybe she wants to spend time with her family,” Mimi suggested, placing the neatly folded towel on the stack and then reaching for another one.
“With Paisley, you mean,” I corrected her as I leaned against the dark wood door frame. Something rose in my throat, like heartburn. But worse. “I’ve been right here for eighteen years and Andrea has barely even looked at me. Now suddenly Paisley’s here for the summer and it’s like Andrea is her new best friend.”
Mimi stopped folding and frowned as she hugged the towel to her chest. “If you want to spend time with your mom, you should tell her.”
My nose crinkled. “She’s not my mom, you are.”
Mimi stepped toward me, patting my cheek. “I’ll always be your mother or grandmother or whatever you need me to be. But Andrea is a part of you, too. And so is Paisley.” She paused, considering me. “I think it would do all of you some good to … you know. Hang out.” She whispered the last words like they were a secret.
I snorted and gave her a quick hug. “Don’t count on it.”
Mimi headed back into the laundry room. “I can’t make you do anything you don’t want to do, Kate. But I do think spending time with Andrea and Paisley would make things better.”
I wasn’t sold on Mimi’s idea, but I went to my room without another word. Flopping down on my bed, my gaze fell on a white ceramic owl sitting on my bedside table. Miguel had given it to me last year, on our six-month anniversary. We had tried to ignore the fact that we’d soon be separated when he left for college. Now he had a new life of his own that didn’t include me.
My door burst open and Paisley barged in without knocking first. “We’re taking Pop to see that new Liam Neeson movie,” she announced. “You want to come?”
I sat up, pushing my hair out of my eyes. That Liam Neeson movie was exactly the one I’d been planning on asking Pop to go see with me. “No, thanks. And you should try knocking first. I could have been changing clothes or something.”
Paisley rolled her eyes. “I’ve seen you naked before. We used to take baths together when we were kids and I was here visiting.” She walked in front of the mirror, combing out her wild and wavy hair for a moment before pulling one side back and clipping it in place with a big yellow sunflower hair clip. “You sure you don’t want to come?” she asked when she turned back around.
My jaw ached as I gritted my teeth. “I’m sure.”
“Okay. See you later.” Paisley bounced out of the room. A few minutes later, the front door slammed shut. Pop’s voice floated through my window before being swallowed by the slam of a car door.
If they could go out and have fun, so could I. I pulled out the napkin that had Rory’s number scribbled on it, smoothing it out carefully in my hand. Maybe Ashton had a point.
Before I could change my mind, I typed out a quick message.
Hey. It’s Kate. What are you doing?
Well hi. Nothing much. Just getting ready for open mic night. Change your mind?
Was I up for a night out with a guy I barely knew and who sometimes made me want to shove his guitar into his stomach just to get the arrogant smirk off his face?
Fine, but only because I want to see what you’ve got. I texted back at last. I’ll be there in an hour.
Chapter 8
Mona’s was already packed when I arrived an hour later in my white peasant dress and tallest pair of heeled sparkly sandals. I towered over most of the people who were chatting and laughing on the sidewalk. Before pulling the door open, I took out my phone to check my hair, which I’d pulled to one side and twisted into a braid that hung down over my shoulder.
Not that it was a big deal. This was just a totally normal night at Mona’s.
A man with at least three boxes of leftovers in his arms—the portions were generous at Mona’s—burst through the door, nearly bowling me over. I slipped past him and inside the buzzing restaurant, wedging myself between the hostess table and the old-school jukebox in the back.
Without trying to look too obvious, I scanned the crowd. A girl with a pixie-cut was trying to lug her giant red keyboard off-stage. I spotted the familiar spiky-haired figure at a small black table halfway to the stage, a coffee mug nestled between his hands. I took a deep breath and weaved my way to him.
“Hey,” I practically yelled.
Rory looked up at me, his brow knit in confusion. “Sorry,” he said. He nodded toward the empty chair across from him. “It’s reserved.”
Before I could figure out what in my near vicinity I could use t
o strangle him, his face broke into a smile.
“Wow, Kate, you might want to take yourself less seriously,” he laughed. “You should have seen your face.”
I scowled at him, though I could feel the relief spread all the way to my fingers. “You know,” I said, taking my bag off my shoulder, “I could have been seeing a Liam Neeson movie tonight.”
“Well, that seat really is reserved—for you.” He swept his hand across the table like he was presenting me with a new car on a game show. “Would Liam Neeson do that for you?”
I sat down. His beat-up guitar case rested against the table next to him. “You been up there yet?” I asked, nodding toward the stage.
“Not yet,” he said. “I was waiting for an honest judge to show up who could tell me that I sucked.”
I shrugged. “Well, here I am. Let’s hear it.” Rory leaned back, smirking as he studied me. “I think I’ll make you wait. Draw out the suspense a bit.”
I rolled my eyes and flagged down a waitress nearby. “Coffee, extra sugar,” I told her. “Extra, extra sugar.”
“A girl after my own heart,” Rory said. He raised his coffee cup toward me in a toast. “Coffee flavored sugar water.”
“The best kind,” I agreed.
Someone tapped the mic on stage. A pretty dark-haired girl in the most fashionable pair of overalls I’d ever seen stood there, waiting patiently as a wave of quiet went through the audience. She held a ukulele to her chest.
“Bet you she’s going to play a Beyoncé cover,” Rory said.
Before I could even raise my eyebrows, the girl launched right into “Halo.” All the lingering noise in the room stopped.
“Wow,” I whispered, glancing from Rory to the girl onstage. He leaned into me from across the small table until our forearms were touching.
“She’s great, isn’t she?”
“Uh-huh,” I mumbled. He smelled like cedar and shampoo and sweat. He pulled away, smiling.
No, smirking. He was looking at the stage now, but he was definitely smirking at me. Was I blushing again? I grabbed a glass of water from the table and took a hasty sip, managing to spill at least half of it.