“Nat, you should really invest in lessons on how not to trip,” Alec’s voice called from behind me.

I tugged my earphones out and turned around.

Sweat poured down his body. He had taken off his shirt at some point, and it was clenched in his right hand, leaving his ridiculous six-pack bare. It didn’t help that his sweat seemed to glisten on his chest in the sun.

“What, did you just run a marathon or something?” I joked.

“Nah.”

I nodded.

“A half marathon.”

“I feel very inadequate,” I mumbled, kicking a rock from my shoe.

“As you should.” Alec knelt down and tied my shoe very tight, as if I was in kindergarten and had a habit of tripping over shoelaces. Well, I guess the tripping part was fairly accurate.

“So, things are good?” Alec asked, not meeting my eyes but looking at the beach instead.

“I guess.” I shrugged. “Demetri said you talked to him.”

“He did?” Alec turned to me, he looked surprised.

“Yeah.” This was the part where he’s supposed to get the hint and expand on the topic. But of course, he was a guy so he just shrugged.

“So…” I gulped. “I have to work today, but I think we’re hanging out tonight if you want to join us.”

“Did you just invite me out on your date?”

“It’s not a date,” I said quickly.

“Trust me.” He grinned bitterly. “It’s a date. But yeah, I actually have some stuff going on tonight. You guys have fun though, okay?”

“Okay.” I swallowed the lump in my throat. Rejection did not feel good, not when it came from Alec.

“Nat?”

My head snapped up.

“I’m happy for you.”

Tears welled in my eyes. “Thanks, Alec. That means a lot.”

He nodded and put his earphones back in. “Try not to trip on the last mile home.”

“Very funny,” I grumbled and took off like a crazy person back toward the house. I only had forty five minutes to get ready for work.

I hated that the only thing I could conjure up in my mind was the look on Alec’s face when we talked.

We were back where we started. The casual friends who joked around but shared nothing. It shouldn’t matter. After all, I wasn’t anything to him. I was just his friend. His brother’s girlfriend.

Chapter Eleven

Work was busy.

It seemed like everyone and their mom had decided to come into Seaside for the weekend. I was handling the crowds fine until a mom with three screaming kids walked in. The children began running in circles and testing every flavor of salt water taffy as if it was free.

“Evan.” I elbowed him. He still looked hung over from the night before. He was holding his head in his hands and moaning.

“Why. Do. Children. Exist?” His teeth were clenched.

I would have laughed if I didn’t feel so bad for him. He said his head hurt so bad he wanted to die this morning. That’s what he gets for underage drinking. I took it upon myself to slam the doors more often during our shift.

But the little kids were making my job easy — he was miserable.

“Make it stop, please make it stop.” Evan drank from his bottled water and glared at the mother.

I wouldn’t be surprised if she disappeared on the spot.

“Evan, here.” I gave him some more aspirin and set about cleaning the counter. Seaside Taffy was one of the largest taffy stores in the city. It had every flavor you could possibly think of, including some that didn’t seem like they should be edible. Who wants to eat a grass flavored taffy? Or buttered popcorn?

We also served ice cream and caramel apples. Evan was usually in charge of the candy while I helped serve the other food. But today he just sat like a bump on the log.

“Seriously, Evan, I need help.” I seethed two hours later when the line grew so long, it reached out the door and down the sidewalk.

Evan said something under his breath, but finally moved to the register and began taking people’s money.

“Is it true?” A girl gushed to Evan.

“That your voice is very high pitched?” Evan offered. “I’m afraid so.”

“Evan.” I nudged him. “Sorry, sweetie, is what true?”

“That like, the band AD2 is staying here in Seaside and going to school?”

“Yup,” Evan answered quickly. “Now what can we get you girls?”

They were in middle school and knew the art of distraction too well to allow us to manipulate them.

“So,” the girl in pigtails said, jutting out her hip. “You guys look old.”

Evan’s grip tightened on the register. “Listen, you—”

“Yup, we’re old! You’re right!” I smiled wildly. “But girls, there’s a line, we need to grab your order, okay?”

“Fine,” they grumbled in unison.

When I handed them their caramel apples, the pig-tailed girl whipped around. “Since you’re old and in high school, do you like know the guys?”

“Do I look like the type of girl a rock star would talk to?” I countered.

They tilted their heads, taking in my candy-stripped uniform complete with white visor and shook their heads.

Awesome.

“Oh, I don’t know. I’d talk to you, you know, if I was a rock star,” a voice said to my left. I turned and immediately wanted to die.