Page 30 of Plotting Summer

My heart stutters at his list of my favorite sack lunch items—things I regularly packed in my high school lunches.

Just friends. We’re just friends. I repeat it several times to myself. The problem is that Tristan’s regular thoughtfulness is on par with the romantic gestures by the heroes in my books and in romantic fiction at large. So the tell-tale signs for most women—things like remembering favorite foods—don’t mean to Tristan what my hopeless romantic heart is trying to convince me it means. The very reason I know his favorite sandwich is turkey and cheese with sweet pickles, he always picks BBQ chips if those are an option, he loves citrus (oranges in particular), and his dessert of choice is a brownie. Or key lime pie. At least those used to be his favorites.

A splash in the water nearby has me searching the surface as though our competition hasn’t ended. “What was that? A fish?” And then, suddenly, I see it. A manatee. And not one but two. No three. “Oh my gosh! There are several of them!” I exclaim, glancing at Tristan to make sure he’s seeing the same thing I am. “Manatees!”

The smile Tristan wears tells me this wasn’t just part of the plan, this was the plan. I’m utterly speechless.

My gaze catches on a movement beneath our kayak, and I glance down to see a manatee floating, belly-up, in the water just below us. I’ve seen my share of manatees from a distance but never this close in the wild except for one other time, and I’m filled with an overwhelming sense of joy. And then … grief. And suddenly, completely unexpectedly, as I’m staring into the magnificent creature’s little black eyes, I realize tears are streaming down my cheeks. Not just a few but a massive wave of them like the tide coming in. Or in my case, out. Thank heavens I bought waterproof mascara. I set my sandwich on my lap and attempt to wipe away the evidence with the back of my hand, hopeful that Tristan won’t notice, but they won't stop.

Then a shuddering breath escapes me.

“You okay?” he asks, and I nod, keeping my gaze down and the back of my head to him.

Another shuddering breath, this one with a small gasp.

“Capri?” His fingertips graze my arm, but I don’t look at him. “What’s wrong?”

I shake my head, not wanting him to see me in this emotionally imbalanced state. “I’m fine,” I manage to get out in a very I’m-not-fine sort of way.

The kayak shifts, and I realize it’s Tristan moving the cooler so he can scoot closer. And then he’s right behind my seat, rubbing my back with his hand. He doesn’t say anything, he simply sits there comforting his weirdly emotional neighbor and probably second-guessing his whole plan of redefining our relationship with the island together.

After a minute, I feel I owe him some kind of explanation for my peculiar behavior. “Manatees remind me of my dad,” I manage to get out, willing myself to stop there. But that’s not the way things work. I’m a floodgate that is solid and unyielding until there’s a slight breech, and once it starts, there’s no stopping the flow. “About a year before he lost his battle with cancer, we were visiting my grandparents. He and I were taking the fishing boat to the mainland parking garage when we spotted a manatee and her baby in the canal. Instead of just pointing it out and continuing on our way, he turned off the motor and we sat there. I don’t even know how long we watched them—the two of us together.” Dad always made time for me. Which, for a person who tends to go unnoticed, meant the world.

“I didn’t really know him,” Tristan whispers, “but I do remember that he was always outside playing with you and your siblings when your family would visit the island.”

Right when I think I’m finally getting a hold of myself, Tristan’s acknowledgment causes a gasping sob to escape me, and I start full on ugly crying. Releasing months of pent-up emotions. Years, even. “I miss him a lot. And my grandpa. And the way things used to be before my whole life was turned upside down.” The words are now gushing out of me, refusing to be dammed. “With Grandma at Seaside Oasis, Mom married to Stan and the two of them always off traveling the world together, and Tala and Heath in my grandparents’ house, it’s like losing everything all over again. I’m so happy for them all, I really am, but it’s not easy letting go and moving on. It feels like all the memories I’m trying so desperately to hold on to are either fading or packed away in boxes.”

His hand stills on my back. “That all must have been so hard on you, having to pick up and move while you were grieving. Now to have it all change again … I’m sorry.”

I sniff and look back at him. “I’m not sure where I belong anymore.”

His expression is full of sympathy, and I can see the question in his eyes that he won’t ask because he’d promised he wouldn’t.

Instantly my gaze drops. “It’s not the reason I’ve avoided coming home. Well, it’s not the main reason.”

He sits a moment in silence, leaving me the opportunity to continue my confession if I want, but there’s absolutely no way I’m going to tell him about my secret identity on top of everything else I unintentionally unloaded on him. Especially when I have snot dripping from my nose and my eyes are all swollen from crying. I’ve likely already done irreparable damage to our budding friendship, and I’m just hoping it won’t wither up and die before it even has a chance to bloom.

“I’m sorry again for whatever that was,” I say, swiping a hand under my nose.

“I knew you loved manatees, but had I understood the connection, I would’ve told you about them beforehand.”

Oh great, now he’s feeling bad for bringing me on an outing that is so epic there’s no way it won’t win our competition. Why do I have to be me sometimes? “No, I’m so glad you brought me. Honestly.” I risk a glance at him, and he looks more concerned than convinced. “I don’t know what came over me. It’s probably just PMS. I become an emotional mess when I’m about to start my period.”

I freeze. Did I just tell Tristan I’m starting my period soon? What is the matter with me? “Sorry, I shouldn’t have told you that.” I place the palm of my hand over my tear-streaked face and groan. So much for not reverting to my seventeen-year-old self. Though I’m confident this is worse, considering my seventeen-year-old self never would’ve casually mentioned her monthly cycle to the boy she’s loved her entire life. At least not on their first outing together.

Tristan’s chuckle has me peeking through my fingers. “Despite what you might think, Capri Sun, I do realize women menstruate … and what that can entail.”

Of course he does. He was with Bridget Hall for more than eight years. Eight years! Almost three years of high school, four years of college off and on (but mainly on), and they were engaged for more than a year while Tristan worked on his MBA. I’m not exactly sure of all the details, but that’s the gist of it.

“Imbalanced hormones aside, thanks for planning this,” I say. “Really.”

A loud bump and a slight rocking motion sends our attention downward again. Near to where Tristan is sitting, the manatee’s mouth is open against the bottom of the kayak like it’s testing to see if the kayak is edible.

Tristan slowly scoots back, giving us a better view of the curious manatee. After a few attempts, it’s clearly disappointed and comes up for a breath at our side before returning to his spot beneath us.

“Incredible,” I say, taking another swig of soda and picking up the neglected sandwich from my lap in an attempt to move on from my embarrassing breakdown and get back to enjoying the moment.

A second manatee joins the one beneath us.