Always Summer by Nikki Godwin

sees
through me more than I like. He knows I’m waiting for him to
initiate the conversation, and he’s not going to give me the
pleasure.
    “Look, you’re always in my personal
business, so you owe me answers about yours,” I tell him. “Start
talking.”
    He stands, grabs his coffee, and then slips
his phone into his pocket. “Do you want to ride to work with me?”
he asks. “We can talk about it on the way.”
    I grab my biscuit and vanilla frappe, pick
up my bag on the way to the door, and hurry to his passenger seat.
I’ll find another way back home if I have to.
    He cranks his car and turns the radio down.
“Where do you want me to start?” he asks. “I figure A.J. and Reed
told you what Tropics is, and you can pretty much figure out why I
go there, so what are your questions?”
    I sip my milkshake-like drink, trying to
figure out how I even begin to ask questions. Alston is supposed to
be this big playboy who loves the ladies and can’t settle down with
just one of them. That was his reputation last summer when I met
him. He was flirty and hot and batted his eyes at every girl on The
Strip. He was showing off his tattoo and looking for any reason to
go shirtless.
    “You made out with my friend last summer,” I
say. “My female friend. For like, two weeks. What the hell? I’m so
confused.”
    Alston grabs his sunglasses and puts them
on. I wonder if it’s really to block the morning sun or if he just
doesn’t want me to see the look in his eyes when he answers that
question.
    “I’m sorry about Linzi,” he begins, staring
ahead at the street. “I wasn’t completely sure. I mean, I figured I
was, but I thought, hey, this girl is pretty and she’s fun, and if
I like her, maybe I do like girls too. I really tried to like her.
She was safe. She was leaving, and you guys were temporary. Well,
you were supposed to be, anyway.”
    Oh, if Linzi knew, she’d castrate him. I
haven’t talked to her since moving here, but she’s Facebook
official with some guy she met during a summer course at community
college. She posts a lot of pictures of them together, so I’m
pretty sure she’s not dwelling on Alston or the fact that I moved
to California, but still. She’d be mad. She loves talking about the
gorgeous Asian boy she had a fling with during a magical time in
Cali.
    “I wasn’t trying to use her,” Alston says
again. “I really thought you guys would leave, like everyone else,
and it’d never matter. I didn’t want to test my sexuality with a
local who I’d have to see again. And really, no one else can
tolerate A.J., but when you did, I knew I’d have to entertain your
friend for at least a week, so…I’m sorry.”
    I put my cup in the cup holder and turn to
face him. “So your whole playboy thing was just a ruse?” I ask.
“You just figured you could pretend to be a playboy, so you
wouldn’t have to admit why you didn’t have a girlfriend.”
    He nods, like it’s not even a big deal. And
I guess, in a sense, it really isn’t. Linzi was a two-week fling
with no potential of lasting. He knew that all along.
    “Hold up,” I say, remembering Linzi’s final
moments in the cove. “What about that big fight you guys had? The
one where you were all ‘you can’t just come into my life and leave’
and all that?”
    Alston exhales and glances out his window
before turning into the parking lot behind Drenaline Surf. He parks
his car, but he doesn’t kill the engine.
    “It was for show,” he says, resting his
forehead against the steering wheel. “See, this is why I didn’t
want you to know. I knew you’d have these questions, and it just
makes me look like the biggest asshat in the world.”
    “No,” I say, reaching over and putting a
hand on his shoulder. “I’m not mad. I’m closer to you than I am to
Linzi these days. She’s moved on. She’s fine. But are you
okay?”
    There goes that question again. Are any of
us actually okay anymore?
    Alston half-shrugs, which is