22
Brynn
“Wow, Sloan. You look incredible.” Spencer gives me the kind of look that I’ve been longing for since I got here. “My dad loaned me the boat tonight. I figured it would be fun to take it into town. What do you think?”
“I think it’s perfect,” I say with a renewed commitment to the plan.
The next few days are about three things, and only three things.
Win Spencer. Win pageant. Go home.
I take his hand and let him lead me down to the dock, where a fancy white speedboat is tied up and waiting.
I climb into the passenger seat. He turns the ignition key and the boat roars to life. There’s a notable coolness in the air as we cruise out into the bay. The sky is a dull gray with dark clouds looming on the horizon. The wind has picked up. It’s not much more than a slight breeze, but there’s something different about it. A notable change in the texture, maybe? As if it’s saying, Something’s coming.
“It looks like it might rain.” I glance around the boat to see if there is a cover, but there doesn’t appear to be one.
Spencer taps on one of the round dials on the boat’s dashboard. “It will probably blow past. It usually does.”
As we pull up at the town docks, the weather seems bent on contradicting him. When Spencer jumps out to tie up the boat, I feel the first drops of rain on my bare shoulders.
“We may need to make a run for it.” Spencer reaches down to pull me onto the dock. He looks around. “We can take cover in the gazebo for a few minutes. It’s probably just a quick little summer rain shower.”
He takes my hand and leads me up the gravel path that winds toward the park with the gazebo. When we reach the grass, the rain begins to fall harder, and we have to sprint the last thirty feet to avoid getting soaked. By the time we’re under the gazebo, it’s completely pouring.
“Wow!” says Spencer, watching the rain, which is now so thick that we can barely see Main Street. “I didn’t see that coming. We may be stuck here longer than I thought.” He turns to me. “But that’s okay. I’ve got something important that I wanted to talk to you about anyway, and it feels right to do it here. A little like fate.”
He takes my hand, and it reminds me so much of the perfect scene from the show’s opening credits. Sloan and Spencer alone at the gazebo, holding hands and staring into each other’s eyes, lips parted as if they are on the cusp of saying something that could change the course of their relationship forever.
It’s romantic.
It’s idyllic.
I shiver with the déjà vu.
“Are you cold?” Spencer’s fingers trace the line of my collarbone.
“Just a little.”
He curls his index finger under the strap of my sundress. “I’d give you my sweater, but I wouldn’t want to ruin that pretty dress.”
I smile weakly as he swallows, then draws a deep breath.
“Sloan, we’ve known each other since we were kids. And from the very first moment that I saw you on the beach, you captivated me with your sweet smile and unwavering spirit.”
My stomach drops at the sudden realization that we’re doing this here and now.
“You’ve grown into this tenacious young woman,” he continues. “And whether fate held me back or our stars weren’t yet aligned, it took until now for me to realize that my feelings for you have changed….”
He tugs my hands so I have to step even closer.
The feeling in my stomach is less butterflies and more angry bees. My heart picks up speed but doesn’t swoon, and the inside of my mouth tastes rancid as speckles of black begin to cloud my vision. I breathe and blink, and the perfect scene in front of me becomes a little like a Monet. I start to see the brushstrokes. The messy little flaws. And the picture-perfect beautiful bubble I was in a moment ago bursts.
Spencer’s hands are sweaty and his breath smells like Doritos. More importantly, I realize with absolute clarity that I don’t want this scene to happen.
Not today. Not at all.
And the moment I acknowledge it, the sky above us rumbles as if it wholeheartedly agrees or thinks me a fool. There’s a crack of thunder so loud that I jump, pulling my hand from Spencer’s as a bright flash of lightning hits the ground somewhere nearby on the beach.
It’s a little too close.
It’s perfect.
“I don’t think we should be out here,” I tell Spencer, who looks crestfallen, but still nods in agreement. “We can make a run for Pop’s,” I offer. “Wait the rest of it out with a cherry chip milkshake?”
Spencer points at the fudge shop. “If we cross Main Street, we can take cover under the shop awnings all the way to Pop’s. But before we go, Sloan, I want to tell you that—”
I leap onto the grass before he can finish his sentence. The rain feels cool on my skin, and the wind, blowing stronger than it was a few moments ago, feels like a needed cleanse. A reset.
We sprint all the way to the sidewalk, and there’s another low rumble, followed by a flash of bright lightning just as we take cover under the red-and-white awning. My chest burns from the sudden burst of cardio. I’m soaked down to my underwear, as is Spencer, whose white T-shirt is noticeably see-through and clinging to his rain-soaked chest. He runs his hands through his hair, slicking it back save for a single lock that falls over his blue eyes as they fixate on me. I’m living out four years of teenage fantasies all at once.
“Where to next?” I peek my head out onto the sidewalk in a desperate attempt to find our next source of cover and almost collide with a large green-and-white golf umbrella.
“Whoa!” The umbrella lifts to reveal a very dry Luce underneath. “Hey, you two. What’s going on?”
“We got caught in the rain,” I explain, very happy to see Luce’s face. “We’re heading over to Pop’s for a milkshake. Why don’t you come with us?”
Luce shakes her head. “Pop closed his place up. He’s worried the storm is going to turn into something more. The only place in town that’s open is the Bronze. Apparently, there’s karaoke in there tonight. My horses like to be out in the pasture when it’s stormy like this. It stresses them out to be inside, and it stresses me out to think about them getting soaking wet in the dark, so I’m heading over there now to distract myself. Why don’t you guys come with me?”
No, not the Bronze.
As desperate as I am not to be alone with Spencer right now, the only thing that would make tonight even more complicated is throwing Josh into the mix.
“I guess we could.” Spencer looks at me. “Or we could head back to my place? In case it gets really bad and the power goes out?”
I know what happens in Carson’s Cove when the power goes out.
“The Bronze sounds great!” I say, despite my brain flashing through all the different ways tonight could end in a catastrophic clusterfuck.
Spencer shrugs. “Sounds good. It’s been awhile since I’ve sung karaoke.”
Luce lifts up her umbrella to make room for us to join her under it. We head back out into the rain toward the Bronze, where the off-key sound of someone butchering Shania Twain can be heard from half a block out.
When we finally do get inside, I hold out hope that this whole plan will fall apart because the place is so crammed from everyone driven in by the storm that there is barely standing room, but then Spencer points to a single unoccupied table.
“There! Over by the stage.”
There are three empty seats.
Of course there are.
“Luce, why don’t you take this one?” I nudge her into the middle seat, but our telepathy isn’t quite where it needs to be yet. A moment after we all sit down, she jumps up with a “I guess I might as well go grab us a round of drinks” and heads to the bar, leaving Spencer and me alone.
I catch a break when the music is so loud that you can’t carry a conversation, and then a second one when the bar is so busy that I can only see tiny glimpses of Josh if I really crane my neck.
I start to think that maybe tonight won’t be as bad as I thought.
Then the music stops.
“Hey, folks!” The voice of the emcee booms through the speaker system. “Thanks for sheltering with us. We’re going to take a quick break as we set up for the next few performers. Hold tight and get to know your neighbor for a few moments. We’ll be right back.”
Spencer reaches across our table for my hand. “Listen, Sloan. There’s something I want to tell you and I don’t want to wait any longer.”
I jump to my feet. “Can you hold out a few more minutes? I’m still pretty soaked from the rain. I’m going to go dry off a bit.” I point in the vague direction of the bathroom. “I’ll be right back.”
I don’t wait for him to answer before ducking into the crowd and weaving my way toward the restrooms. I intentionally follow a path that takes me out of the line of sight of the bar, but as I turn the corner toward the bathroom, I’m cut off by a keg being wheeled by on a dolly.
“Whoa, sorry about that.” Josh swerves and then stops, his face registering a look of surprise when he notices that his obstacle is me. “Brynn, hey. I was hoping you’d come tonight.”
His voice is soft and his eyes are so kind. I get the urge to run away again, but this time I want to grab his hand and take him with me.
“I wanted to make sure we were good,” he continues. “I didn’t like the way we left things this morning, and I…”
His gaze flicks to something over my shoulder.
“Did you come here with Spencer?”
I nod, my cheeks heating. “Yes. I need to talk to you about that. Sheldon came by and—”
There’s a loud mic screech.
I turn in the direction of the sound. It’s coming from the stage. The crowd is so dense that I can barely see the bar, let alone our table, which makes me wonder how Josh knew I came here with—
My blood runs cold.
Oh, now I’ve fudged up.
Of all the catastrophes I envisioned tonight, I missed one.
The most obvious one.
I watch with that kind of detached horror you feel when you know something very wrong is about to happen and yet can’t find the will to do anything but watch. The emcee takes center stage as the lights dim.
“Please welcome to the stage our very own Spencer Woods.”