everything on deck, which is cool, but I
never
have the option of not going down. I can’t be tired. I can’t be sick.”
“What if you
are
sick?”
“No sponges, no money,” he says, glancing at his watch, a wide brown strap lashed around his wrist. “So unless I can’t breathe, I go. And speaking of going … we should probably head home.”
I don’t want to go yet, but we’re well into tomorrow and I start work in only a handful of hours. “Yeah.”
Alex parks the truck down the street from Greg’s house and lets me out on the driver’s side so he won’t have to slam the passenger door. “I’d walk you home.” He keeps his voice low. “But under the circumstances—”
“It’s okay.” I nod. “Thanks for—”
He cuts me off with a kiss that makes my toes curl under and my heart feel as if it’s going to climb right out of my chest and throw itself at his feet. It’s an entirely new feeling.
“I, um—” he says, getting back into the truck. “See you later.”
I stand there for—I don’t know—maybe a minute,wondering what is happening between Alex Kosta and me. Just when it feels as if this might be something more than nothing, he pulls away. He doesn’t make me feel as if I’m just another piece of ass, but maybe he’s just better at this game than Danny or Matt or—Adam. I remember now that the first guy’s name was Adam and he played guitar in a park, busking for change. He charmed me with a little song he made up on the spot with my name in it, and at thirteen I lost my virginity to him in his van.
It’s a distinct possibility that I am a terrible judge of character.
I sneak over the fence, being careful not to trample the flowers, and press myself into the shadows until I’m inside the Airstream. I place the finger sponge on the little shelf above my bed and crawl in, not bothering to even take off my clothes. Alex’s scent lingers on my pillow, and I fall asleep with the ghost of his fingers moving through my hair.
Chapter 10
Eight o’clock arrives much too quickly. I jolt upright when my alarm goes off and squint at the numbers, convinced they must be wrong. But it is official—the four hours of sleep I’ve had are all I’m going to get. My insides vibrate with tiredness as I drag myself out of bed, gather my bathroom supplies, and go into the house.
Greg, Phoebe, and the boys have gone to the early service at the Greek Orthodox church, so the house is empty. On the drive to Tarpon Springs from the airport, Greg told me I was welcome to attend church with them, but I have no interest in God. Especially when it seems he’s never really had any interest in me.
When I’m washed, dried, dressed, and caffeinated, I walk down to the shop. As I pass Alex’s boat, I wonderif he fell asleep thinking of me the way I thought of him. But mostly I wonder if he’s lucky enough to still be sleeping. The shop is already open when I get there and Theo is counting money into the cash register.
He looks up and smiles. “Hey, Callie, I’m Theo. Pick out a shirt.” He gestures at a tiered wooden display filled with T-shirts in a variety of colors and styles. All of them have
Tarpon Sponge Supply Co
. printed on them. “The first one is on me. If you want more, which you probably will, you’ll get the 50 percent employee discount. Same goes with jewelry. It’s always good if you wear stuff from here, because if the customers see how good it looks on you, they’ll want to buy it.”
“Okay.”
I choose a bright-turquoise T-shirt with a red scuba diver swimming across the front.
“Changing room’s behind that curtain.” He closes the cash drawer. “And when you’re done, I’ll show you around.”
It takes only about an hour to learn all the ins and outs of the shop. We sell T-shirts and sponges, along with hemp and leather jewelry, hippie-style dresses, sunglasses, and handmade goat-milk soaps. My job is to help customers find whatever they need and to ring
never
have the option of not going down. I can’t be tired. I can’t be sick.”
“What if you
are
sick?”
“No sponges, no money,” he says, glancing at his watch, a wide brown strap lashed around his wrist. “So unless I can’t breathe, I go. And speaking of going … we should probably head home.”
I don’t want to go yet, but we’re well into tomorrow and I start work in only a handful of hours. “Yeah.”
Alex parks the truck down the street from Greg’s house and lets me out on the driver’s side so he won’t have to slam the passenger door. “I’d walk you home.” He keeps his voice low. “But under the circumstances—”
“It’s okay.” I nod. “Thanks for—”
He cuts me off with a kiss that makes my toes curl under and my heart feel as if it’s going to climb right out of my chest and throw itself at his feet. It’s an entirely new feeling.
“I, um—” he says, getting back into the truck. “See you later.”
I stand there for—I don’t know—maybe a minute,wondering what is happening between Alex Kosta and me. Just when it feels as if this might be something more than nothing, he pulls away. He doesn’t make me feel as if I’m just another piece of ass, but maybe he’s just better at this game than Danny or Matt or—Adam. I remember now that the first guy’s name was Adam and he played guitar in a park, busking for change. He charmed me with a little song he made up on the spot with my name in it, and at thirteen I lost my virginity to him in his van.
It’s a distinct possibility that I am a terrible judge of character.
I sneak over the fence, being careful not to trample the flowers, and press myself into the shadows until I’m inside the Airstream. I place the finger sponge on the little shelf above my bed and crawl in, not bothering to even take off my clothes. Alex’s scent lingers on my pillow, and I fall asleep with the ghost of his fingers moving through my hair.
Chapter 10
Eight o’clock arrives much too quickly. I jolt upright when my alarm goes off and squint at the numbers, convinced they must be wrong. But it is official—the four hours of sleep I’ve had are all I’m going to get. My insides vibrate with tiredness as I drag myself out of bed, gather my bathroom supplies, and go into the house.
Greg, Phoebe, and the boys have gone to the early service at the Greek Orthodox church, so the house is empty. On the drive to Tarpon Springs from the airport, Greg told me I was welcome to attend church with them, but I have no interest in God. Especially when it seems he’s never really had any interest in me.
When I’m washed, dried, dressed, and caffeinated, I walk down to the shop. As I pass Alex’s boat, I wonderif he fell asleep thinking of me the way I thought of him. But mostly I wonder if he’s lucky enough to still be sleeping. The shop is already open when I get there and Theo is counting money into the cash register.
He looks up and smiles. “Hey, Callie, I’m Theo. Pick out a shirt.” He gestures at a tiered wooden display filled with T-shirts in a variety of colors and styles. All of them have
Tarpon Sponge Supply Co
. printed on them. “The first one is on me. If you want more, which you probably will, you’ll get the 50 percent employee discount. Same goes with jewelry. It’s always good if you wear stuff from here, because if the customers see how good it looks on you, they’ll want to buy it.”
“Okay.”
I choose a bright-turquoise T-shirt with a red scuba diver swimming across the front.
“Changing room’s behind that curtain.” He closes the cash drawer. “And when you’re done, I’ll show you around.”
It takes only about an hour to learn all the ins and outs of the shop. We sell T-shirts and sponges, along with hemp and leather jewelry, hippie-style dresses, sunglasses, and handmade goat-milk soaps. My job is to help customers find whatever they need and to ring
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