Page 74 of Plotting Summer

“Did he use your same fork?” Grandma asks, leaning forward in her seat. Both of us sit there, unsure of what to say with only one fork in sight besides the one Mark just brought. Grandma smiles at our apparent inability to answer. “How interesting that you feel comfortable enough to share the same utensil. It makes me wonder what else the two of you’ve been sharing.”

Tala is literally shaking with laughter at my side, covering her lowered face with the hand not supporting her son. This is not going at all how I planned. But Tristan looks completely delighted by this strange turn of events. A turn of events that was entirely my fault.

Joy glances back and forth between us with a hopeful look. “Do the two of you have something you want to tell us?”

Tristan finds my hand beneath the table, and I give it a gentle squeeze.

“We aren’t telling anyone yet,” I say. “But …” I look to Tristan.

“But what?” Joy asks, eagerness saturating her voice.

“It turns out Capri has a massive crush on me.” Tristan smiles, and I nudge my elbow into him. “Fine. And I have an even bigger one on her.”

Joy squeals, clapping her hands together like we just announced our engagement instead of a new relationship. “I knew it.”

Mark puts a hand on his wife’s shoulder, wearing a wide smile that very much resembles hers. “You did hear the part about them not telling anyone yet? I’m guessing we should probably keep our celebrations to ourselves for now.”

Joy clasps a hand over her mouth and glances around as if to make sure she didn’t single-handedly expose our secret. “Why exactly can’t we say anything?”

“We need to figure out a few things first,” Tristan says.

I nod, tightening my fingers in his, thankful for the tablecloth that conceals it from view. “But we hope it won’t be too much longer.”

We just have to get through the next couple of weeks until Secret Crush isn’t fresh in anyone’s mind. Starting with today. Which means we’re going to have to keep our distance from each other. Once breakfast is done, that is.

To keep myself busy and my mind distracted from how much I want to be with Tristan, I volunteer to help Jane by passing out extra decorative ribbons for the bike parade. When my bag is empty, I search for Jane to see if there’s anything else I can do, but she’s flying about on her rollerblades, getting everything ready for the parade to begin. She’s laser focused and totally in her zone, so I decide to catch up with her later.

As I weave through the crowded town square, I avoid looking toward The Book Isle. Earlier, in the front window of the bookshop, I saw a poster with my next release on it that read: Order your copy now! I don’t need the reminder of how close I’m cutting it with my submission this time around, considering I don't even have my proofread back yet, or that people on Sunset Harbor might be pre-ordering my book.

Someone grabs my arm, and I startle before I realize it’s Tristan. Apparently, I was so thorough in my attempts to disregard the bookshop that I missed seeing him standing on the sidewalk nearby. “Hey,” he says, looking oddly relieved to see me.

I’m slightly confused at Tristan’s greeting since we parted ways after breakfast with the understanding of intentionally avoiding each other until we meet back at Tala’s this afternoon. But that doesn’t keep me from smiling up at him in a way I probably shouldn’t with so many people as potential witnesses. “Hey.”

“We were just talking about you.”

My brow lowers, and I peek around him to see who he means by we, and my whole body goes rigid when I catch sight of Bridget Hall!

Her golden blond hair is thrown back in a ponytail, but unlike mine, the top of hers is smooth and the ends are curled in a loose spiral that defies the laws of humidity. Her little white halter dress is a stark contrast against her tanned skin but matches her bright white teeth perfectly. My gaze flies back to Tristan’s.

He gives one subtle shake of his head as if to say he doesn’t know why she’s here either. Or maybe it’s something else he’s trying to tell me, but my head feels suddenly cloudy and there’s a slight ringing in my ears. His brief touch to the small of my back, probably as encouragement for me to step forward, grounds me enough that I can drag a smile to my lips and offer a quick wave. “Hey, Bridget.”

“Capri,” Bridget surprisingly says my name correctly, and I force myself to hold her gaze. She does a quick once-over of me and smiles, but I’m not sure how genuine it is. “Wow, I can hardly believe it’s you. You look all grown up.”

Considering she’s a year older than me, it feels like a back-handed, patronizing compliment, but there’s nothing to do but smile and accept it. “Thanks.” My eyes instinctively drop to her left hand, and to my horror, she’s not wearing a ring on her finger. I assure myself it’s because she left it at home for the day as a precaution, but the way she’s smiling at Tristan seems to counter that reasoning.

“She was asking which of our friends I’ve seen, and I mentioned you were here,” Tristan says, subtly informing me of their previous conversation. “And Noah.”

She glances around. “Cat and Ivy are here somewhere too. Cat told me to meet her in front of the bookshop.” Her smile brightens. “Oh, there she is,” Bridget says, waving a hand.

My gaze follows hers to where Cat Keene and Holland Blakely are making their way toward us through the crowd. Their smiling gazes pause on me, and suddenly, I feel like seventeen-year-old Capri again—panicked and out of place. These were the popular girls in school, except for Holland since she’s a Sunset Harbor implant. But had she gone to Beachside with us, she definitely would have been one of the cool kids. Unlike me. Even with Jane as my best friend to act as mediator, I never fit in with them. And in those instances when I was around them, I was a mere shadow on the wall.

“Hey,” Cat says, hugging Bridget. “It’s good to see you.” With her blue eyes and the red scarf that’s tied up in her platinum blond hair, she looks beautifully patriotic. Suddenly, I realize that every person in this group is blond except me. If that isn’t symbolic of how I feel—the black sheep of the herd—I don’t know what is. “Hey, Tristan,” she says with a smile, then her gaze pauses on me. “And Capri! I heard you were visiting.”

“I am,” I say, realizing how obvious that now is since I’m standing here. Heat creeps into my chest and neck.

“I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Holland.” Holland is absolutely darling, and though she’s several inches shorter than me, I'm completely intimidated by her unassuming charisma. So I don’t tell her we have met before. Besides, it was only in passing, and I don’t expect her to remember. If it weren’t for Jane always keeping me up-to-date about what’s happening with everyone on the island, I probably wouldn’t feel like I knew her either.

“Capri Collins,” I say.