Small Town Hearts

by Lillie Vale

  “No! It’s just…”

  He nodded as if he understood. “This is too fast.”

  “No, it’s not that. I…” It felt like I was choking on the words. “I don’t get involved with summer boys.”

  “Summer boys?”

  I heard it the way he must have heard it. Like a slur. I hadn’t meant for it to sound that way—when locals used it, we knew it was derogatory, but it was also accepted. But hearing it now made me feel sick. “Um, it’s just what we call the guys who wind up in Oar’s Rest during the summer. The tourists. Because they go home at the end of the season.”

  Hurt flashed in Levi’s eyes. He turned away. “Oh. Um, yeah, that, uh … that makes sense.” He stretched his arm behind his head to scratch his neck. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

  “No, it’s not you. I wanted to. It’s just that I got caught up in the moment and…” I sucked in my cheeks and turned away, facing the mouth of the cave. The faintest spray of water wetted my cheeks. “We’ve had a lot of fun tonight. And we’re friends, right? You and me, we’re good?”

  Even though I still felt the delicious tingle of his mouth against mine, friends I could handle. Just about.

  “Definitely,” he said at once, like he’d just been waiting for me to offer. The palpable relief in his voice was impossible to miss. He opened his mouth, but I held up my hand.

  “Please don’t apologize again,” I said. “Let’s just say we got caught up in the heat of the moment. It happens in summer. When everything feels just right and everyone is their Summer Self. The self that doesn’t fit into who they think they are the rest of the year. No one is their Usual Self in summer, not here. So, um, yeah. Heat of the moment.”

  He let me ramble on while he stayed quiet. Listening, actually listening. Even if none of it made sense to him, he didn’t push. A hint of Levi’s playful side came to the front as he tilted his head toward the rain. “Heat?”

  “Okay, we got caught up in the rain of the moment.” I poked my elbow into his side—not hard enough to hurt, just enough so he knew we were good.

  He nudged me back.

  Shoulder to shoulder, we stood together, watching as the rain faded to a drizzle. And just like that, we were back to normal. Just a girl and a boy in a cave, letting the world come rushing back.

  nine

  The hum of energy was palpable from the moment I biked down to town the next morning. Main Street was lined with cars, most of them with out-of-state license plates, windshields dusty and bug-spattered from travel. A little girl and her labradoodle waved energetically at me from the back-seat window while the parents lugged coolers and beach umbrellas from the trunk.

  I trekked across the beach and down the pier. Here, at least, there was no activity. No prying eyes to hide myself from, no cheerful tourists who wanted to smile at me, no old friends who would make an inconvenient appearance. There was just me and Penny, and the front door that stood between us. The houseboat was her kingdom. I just needed her to let down the drawbridge and let me back in. I sucked in a breath, rallied all my courage, and knocked.

  Nothing. Well, that was okay. I wasn’t expecting her to answer it right away.

  “Penny, it’s me.” Then, uselessly, I added, “Babe.” I waited. “Please, can I come in?” I pressed my lips to the door, close enough to touch. “Can we talk?”

  There was no way our friendship was this impermanent. I silently willed her to open the door, to give me even a sliver of hope that things could go back to normal. The morning breeze brushed my neck, but it felt like it went all the way through me. My bare legs trembled with the cold. I was paper-thin, seconds from crumpling into a ball.

  “Penny, I am so sorry. The kiss meant nothing to either of us. He’s your boyfriend. I don’t want Chad, you know that. It was just—he was being stupid. But it’s not me he wants.” I hesitated. “It’s always been you. You know that.”

  She had to remember that. She had to remember all our good times. Baking with her Easy-Bake Oven as children, my head lolling against hers as we smoked our first joint, passing notes in the back row at school. I still had a box of falling-apart notes, all of them written in the violet ballpoint we thought was so cool. Making daisy chains and napping under the huge tree in front of the library, lurid, dog-eared romance novels tucked in our backpacks.

  “Penny!” I raised my fist and pounded on the door. “C’mon. Don’t do this.”

  I waited for a scathing Go away! or even a text message asking to be left alone. But there was nothing. Cold crept into my chest. She didn’t even care enough to text me.

  “Remember all those plans we had about this summer?” I said. “We were going to spend all summer together. You, me, Chad. We were going to eat fish tacos and ice cream every day. You said you wanted to go to Bar Harbor for shopping. You even got me to agree to that yoga class!”

  My pleas fell on deaf ears.

  It didn’t matter if she forgot all those promises, because she was already breaking the most important one of all. It was silent, something we never had to talk about, because we knew it, felt it, deep in our bones. When you were best friends with someone, it just went without saying that you would always stand with them. You’d fight side by side, against any obstacle, to get past anything.

  “Penny,” I whispered. This was me, showing up, fighting. My best friend was nowhere in sight.

  Just as I turned to leave, the door swung open. Penny was wearing a tank top and sleep shorts, a pink eye mask pushed into her hair. She was clutching a steaming mug of coffee in her hands, and her eyes weren’t bleary from sleep. Somewhere inside, a fan was whirring.

  Relief flooded through me. I started to take a step forward, but she didn’t let me in. Body still blocking the doorway, she looked back at me coolly.

  I came to a stop. “I’m sorry, Penny. I know you’re feeling—”

  “No, you don’t,” she flared. “Did I kiss your boyfriend? No? So then you don’t know what I’m feeling.”

  My throat was scratchy. “Fair enough.”

  She sighed. For the briefest of moments, I thought she was relenting. “Babe, I get to be mad.”

  “I know you do.”

  “All those things about summer … those are things you decided. I don’t want to do the same things we’ve spent our whole lives doing. There’s other stuff, you know? I don’t want be…” She gestured with her hands. “I don’t want to be small-town Penny. There’s more to me than—than Chad, than this, than you—”

  My heart was in my throat.

  She stopped, her eyes darting away. “This summer wasn’t the end of anything. It was just another beginning. And those can be wonderful and scary, but mostly wonderful, and I know you think endings are really sad, but … but the world isn’t split into beginnings and endings. There’s all that stuff in the middle. The getting there. That’s what I want. The not knowing. Adapting to the change.” Penny took a deep breath. “I want to change. I want to muddle through shit and make mistakes, and I want to come back from those mistakes, if I want to. But I can’t stay the same. Not for me. And not for you.”

  “Penny—”

  She wasn’t done. “I thought I was safe with you.”

  My heart clenched. “You are.”

  “I thought my relationship was safe with you,” she clarified. When she looked at me, her eyes were glassy. “I didn’t want to be one of those girls who ditched their friends the second they got a boyfriend. I promised myself that no matter what, you’d be as important in my life as Chad. And we’d all been best friends for so long, I didn’t want to exclude you. It wouldn’t have been the same without you there, not really.” Penny wet her lips before taking a deep breath. “There were times … when I thought maybe you two were getting close—too close. Closer than me and Chad.” She hesitated. “Closer than me and you, too.”

  That took the wind right out of my sails. The gasp tore itself from my mouth before I could take it back. It wasn’t as simple as I’d thought.
Penny wasn’t just jealous because of the kiss … it was because she was afraid she was the odd woman out.

  Tears welled in my eyes and my chest tightened, as if every bad decision was inflating inside me like a blow-up pool toy. I was barely able to keep my head above water, treading between the person I was now and who I used to be.

  I couldn’t keep doing this. I couldn’t keep feeling this way. I knew she was entitled to her anger and pain—even if most of it seemed to be directed at me. I didn’t begrudge her wanting space. Though I wasn’t thrilled about being cut out, I’d suck it up if that was what she needed. But I had to know if there was a chance, like Chad said, of forgiveness. I needed her to throw me a life raft.

  My hands balled into fists at my side. I blinked back the tears.

  Penny spoke first. “I … I didn’t want to lose either of you. I thought if I tried harder, if I included you, we wouldn’t drift apart. I didn’t want you to be jealous I was spending more time with Chad, or think I was leaving you behind.” She inhaled sharply, like maybe she was on the verge of tears, too. “I guess I had this idea that it all rested on me. I wanted us to keep going on like we always had. The three of us.”

  The boat was too small, this conversation too hard. It wasn’t going the way I had hoped for. My nails were digging into my palms, and my throat felt sandpapered rough. When I loosened my fists, relief surged up through my arms. The three of us.

  I barely recognized the gravelly voice as my own when I asked, “So what does this mean for you and me?”

  “I just think we need to be our own people for a while. We’ve been together so long that our roots are tangled. Thorny.” She cleared her throat. “We can’t grow if we’re still holding on to each other so tight.” She recited it like it was something she’d memorized already.

  My dry lips parted. “Are you saying you don’t want me to hang out with Chad?” I asked, incredulous.

  She hesitated, patchy color taking over her cheeks. “And about the sandcastle…”

  She was skirting around the rest of the sentence. But I sensed what was coming. Icy heat shot down my arms. “You don’t want me and Chad to partner up,” I said, hearing the dull, finite tone in my voice. I should have seen it coming. “You don’t even like making sandcastles.”

  “But we’re back together now.”

  I understood. Translation: I’m his girlfriend and you’re not.

  “What about Chad?” I asked, my voice raw. “You trust him but not me.” It wasn’t a question.

  Penny closed her eyes. “I’m in love with Chad.”

  “You love someone who you could just throw overboard like”—I snapped my fingers—“that?”

  “I think you should go.”

  “Wait!” I stuck my foot in the door before she could close it. “Where does this leave us?”

  “Nothing’s changed, Babe. I still don’t want to—” She sucked in a sharp breath. “I love you, but you kissed my boyfriend.”

  “What if that was me changing?” I asked desperately.

  “Into what, though?” A flicker of a frown crossed her face.

  I didn’t have an answer for her. It had been a dumb thing to say. I didn’t want to change into someone who kissed the wrong people.

  She exhaled. “Yeah, I thought so. Change isn’t your get-out-of-jail-free card. It’s real. People aren’t meant to stay the same forever. You shouldn’t even want them to.”

  “So what is it?” My eyes burned, my nostrils tingled hot and cold. “You’re mad because Chad kissed me or you’re mad because you only want the changes that you decide?”

  “You haven’t changed,” Penny said emphatically. She used her flip-flopped foot to wedge mine out of the doorway. I let her. “You’re just trying to give me an answer you think I’ll fall for.”

  “That’s not what I’m—”

  Her voice turned sharp. “Yeah. It is.”

  “I don’t know how to get you back,” I said, voice small.

  “Then don’t.”

  My insides ached. Everything felt cold and hollow and carved-out.

  “That’s for me to figure out,” said Penny. “Not for you. I get to be mad, Babe.” And then she closed the door.

  * * *

  Was I guilty of more than just kissing Chad? Was I guilty of everything else she’d accused me of? The anger felt different this time, muddied with confusion and hurt and the kind of loneliness that came from breaking up with your best friend. It felt like she had outgrown me in some way, as though I had clung too hard and held her back. Like she was static because of me.

  “You sure everything in the delivery was in order?” Tom was asking Lucy as I entered Busy’s. He bent over the counter to peer at the huge pile of mail. Envelopes of all colors and sizes were dumped in front of him.

  Dazed, I glanced at the ripped-open envelopes on the counter. “What’s up?”

  “One of our suppliers has sent a bill for the coffee beans,” said Tom. “And I checked the back. Looks like we’re a little short. Has everything been unboxed and checked against the invoice?”

  “Are you sure you looked everywhere? Maybe it’s still buried in the back somewhere?” suggested Lucy. “Ariel said she had done some, and then we finished the rest.”

  “You girls are supposed to sort the mail, too,” said Tom. He swatted an envelope down on the counter. “Get rid of all the junk and hand the important stuff to me. Why is there such a pile here?”

  Another one of Ariel’s jobs she’d failed to do.

  While Tom ducked his head to sort through the envelopes, Lucy caught my eye. Ariel, she mouthed.

  “Is Ariel coming in today?” Tom asked gruffly as I reached for my apron.

  “No.” I tied the strings behind my back. “We, um, actually haven’t seen her too much lately.”

  Tom’s face was resigned. “Had a feeling this would be coming,” he said with a sound that was halfway between a grunt and a scoff. “Babe. What are we doing about her?”

  “She … she has to go,” I said. I shifted under Tom’s gaze. “I’m the manager. I’ll do it the next time she comes in and give her whatever she’s owed for the hours she’s actually worked.”

  My earlier empathy for her had fizzled out as quickly as it’d started. Ariel’s situation wasn’t like mine. She’d used up her second chance. And her third. And her fourth. I still had my second chance.

  Tom nodded slowly. “Sounds good. I’ll put up a sign in the window once that’s done.”

  “For a waitress?” asked Lucy.

  “And the fish fry is coming up, too,” said Tom. “We could use the extra hands.”

  “We don’t even need to hire anyone new,” said Lucy. She placed a hand on my shoulder. “We’ve got this, don’t we, Babe?”

  “Do you, now?” Tom smiled at me. “Like mother, like daughter.”

  A rush of pride swelled through me. Like mother, like daughter. The words rang in my ears long after Tom retired to a table in the back and Lucy began humming Taylor Swift’s latest single.

  My mother, Jenna, had worked at Busy’s, too. The best waitress and manager he’d ever had, Tom once proclaimed, though her coffee-making skills didn’t have a lick on mine. The affection Tom had for Mom was like that of a father.

  “Does he look more tired lately to you?” Lucy whispered once Tom left.

  Alarm flared through me. I hoped it wasn’t Ariel that was stressing him out. I glanced at our boss. He was over sixty, but he looked younger. His skin didn’t sag, and the lines on his face were all from laughter.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “A little, maybe. But it’s probably only because it looks like it’s going to be a busy summer. It’s the fiftieth anniversary of the sandcastle competition. I heard someone say that a lot more people are coming because of the press coverage.”

  “Maybe.” Lucy gnawed on a nail. “How are things with Penny?”

  “Nonexistent.” Since our fight, she’d already avoided me in town twice, and after the talk w
e’d just had, I didn’t see that changing. It wasn’t like she’d crossed the street like El had, but the cool way her eyes looked right through me was worse somehow.

  “And Chad?”

  I shrugged. “He doesn’t want to rock the boat right now with Penny. She’s … she’s sort of icing me out. Um, she kicked me out of an iMessage group chat last night. Surprised it took this long, honestly.”

  “Mmm. Well, you still have to let me know what you think about us doing the pageant together,” said Lucy. “It’s okay if you don’t want to come dress shopping, but maybe we could just get ready together or something.”

  After our conversation on the houseboat, I knew there wasn’t any chance I’d be doing the pageant with Penny. And it was really more her thing than mine.

  Looking into Lucy’s face, I was suddenly overcome with affection. I pulled her into a hug. “Thanks for being good to me,” I said, the words muffled into her hair.

  “Don’t get all sappy on me! It’s just makeup!” She hugged me back.

  It was more than that, and we both knew it.

  We broke apart when the door swung open and the bell chimed. The first day of tourist season was well and truly underway.

  * * *

  It was almost closing time and only a few customers still lingered at Busy’s when the door opened and Elodie walked in. “Hey, Babe,” she said, smiling prettily. “Got any of that German chocolate cake left? I promised my mom I’d get her a slice.”

  So was this the way it was now? Two strangers pretending like they hadn’t once kissed and touched and loved? My eyes smarted. I didn’t want her back, but I didn’t want her pretense, either. I was tired of things being secret and messy. Nothing good had ever come of it.

  I was incredibly conscious of Levi sitting at his usual table. Any second now, Elodie would see him, too. I didn’t want to see them talking, getting along. I’d deliberately avoided talking to Levi too much about the art center for this specific reason. I didn’t want El to come up, and I especially didn’t want to feel compelled to explain to him that she was the ex I’d told him about.