Page 27 of Plotting Summer

“Tristan, actually.” Before Grandma can say anything, I hold up a finger and lower my voice. “And no, it’s not a date. We’re just friends.”

“Sure,” Grandma says, dipping her chin and sending me a you-can’t-fool-me look. “Two single, attractive young people choosing to spend time alone together as friends. Got it.”

I hate that I have to fight a smile. My family is not going to be any help in keeping my intentions straight regarding Tristan. “Think what you want, but it’s true.”

Their amused expressions and half-hearted nods are far from reassuring.

“When will you be home?” Serenity asks, and the slight pout on her face reminds me that I promised we’d paint each other’s nails today.

“I’m guessing I’ll be back before dinner.” I didn’t ask Tristan any of the details for our outing—not even where we were going—because with the lack of information, it seems like he wants it to be a surprise. But I can’t imagine we’ll be gone that long, considering it’s only noon. “I’m still planning on our girls’ time. Maybe we can make a night of it?”

Serenity brightens and nods her head excitedly.

“Tristan and I are running in the morning,” Heath says with a smirk that informs me I won’t like what follows. “And we tend to chat about all sorts of things to distract ourselves. So keep that in mind when you two are interacting today. If you try anything on him, I'll probably hear about it.”

I roll my eyes and kiss Grandma on the cheek before waving to everyone else.

“Have fun,” Tala calls as I make my way toward the front lobby.

Honestly, with how on edge I am, I hope I can even attempt fun.

Tristan is already waiting outside when I step through the lobby doors. He’s wearing a pair of blue swim trunks, his classic plain tee, and some flip flops. He also has a large cooler bag slung over one shoulder. “Ready?”

A surge of excitement rushes over me, but I smother it with a healthy dose of reality. “Do I get to know what we’re doing?”

“Kayaking.”

I don’t know why, but I’m not expecting this answer. I’ve only been on a kayak a couple of times, and they aren’t my fondest memories. Once, the plastic kayak was unknowingly taking on water until the boat got so heavy the sides were only a few inches above the surface, making it extremely difficult to both paddle and remove from the water. Another time, I forgot to sunscreen my shins and I sported outrageous tan lines for weeks after the sunburn subsided. “Oh. That sounds … fun.”

Tristan chuckles at my lack of enthusiasm. “I promise. You’ll love it. It might even become the most memorable outing you’ve ever been on.”

That might prove true, but likely because I’m on it with Tristan, not because I’m sitting in a kayak. “Speaking of, who’s judging this little competition of ours?”

“We are.” Tristan starts toward the parking lot, and I fall into step with him.

“The two of us?”

He nods like he can’t see the problem.

“What happens if I choose my outing and you choose yours? We both win?”

“Absolutely not. There will be no participation awards. The winner has to earn it. And as mature, honest adults, I trust that we’ll be able to come to the same conclusion—that I planned the superior outing.”

“Your non-partiality is astonishing.” Instinctively, I nudge my elbow into his side in a way that, in hindsight, is borderline flirtatious. Which is totally not acceptable. Even if Tristan laughs like it’s the expected response.

“Here we are.” Tristan gestures to the old, familiar golf cart. It’s the same one his family had when we were in high school, and that surprises me a little. In a good way. With all the money the Palmers have, and likely Tristan, it would be easy for him to upgrade, but that’s what I’ve always liked about the Palmers. They’ve never rubbed their wealth in the faces of those of us with less. They had nice things, but they never needed the newest or the best. And they typically used what they had until they couldn’t.

Tristan pats the roof like the golf cart is a beloved horse and not an inanimate object. “Good old Bessie.”

I laugh, remembering the name the Palmers gave to their cart years ago. “I’m shocked she’s still running after everything you and Beau put her through.”

“She’s definitely been through a lot, but I can’t bear to part with her before I have to. She’s full of memories.”

With his distant smile, I wonder if he’s talking about memories with Bridget. I witnessed the two of them drive away together in old Bessie countless times, so it seems pretty likely. It’s exactly the reminder I need to keep my heart in the correct lane.

We load into his golf cart and head north. The conversation is sparse at best, but with him sitting so close to me, I’m mentally going over the ground rules I set for myself.

1) Friends. Only friends and nothing more. Ever. Not even when my imagination tries to whisk me away to secluded islands and private beach cottages with Tristan as company. Friend zone is the safe zone. That’s my new motto.