My mouth drops open in horror. “His name is Bennet, and I don’t have a thing for him.”
The other three sit up in their chairs. “Really?” they ask in unison. They look truly puzzled. “A ferry driver?” Alli asks. Her interest is clearly piqued.
“Okay,” I say, sitting back, “what is this aversion to ferry drivers?”
They smirk at one another, which is really annoying. “Come on,” I say. “What’s the deal?”
“It’s just that most of us are hoping to find someone who will take us off the island, y’know?” Natalie says. “Not settle down here.”
Before I have the chance to ask why she would need anyone to take her, Natalie looks apologetically at Elise, who’s twisting a wedding ring around her finger.
Rachel chimes in with, “Plus they’re all odd.”
“Odd? Odd how?” I ask.
“It’s because of the monotony,” Natalie says, like she’s trying to soften a blow. Her eyebrows draw together as if she’s remembering something unpleasant. “Crossing the lake all day, every day. I think it must make them a little…off. One minute they look almost normal. Next thing y’know, they’re destroying property.”
I don’t understand, and it must show on my face.
“She means they’re unpredictable,” says Elise. “They could snap at any moment.”
“Isn’t this all a little dramatic?” I ask, searching their faces for some sign of humor.
“Nope,” Rachel says. “Seriously. I mean, maybe not…what did you say his name was? Bennet? He hasn’t been on the ferry very long yet.”
I glance at Natalie, but she doesn’t look convinced that Bennet will dodge a ferryman’s fate.
“But give him time,” Rachel continues in that übercool voice I would have expected on a two-pack-a-day lounge singer. “That job would send anyone over the edge. You should see some of the old guys who have been working the line forever.”
“Which one is Bennet?” Alli asks. She fluffs her hair and scrutinizes her cleavage.
I wonder how many options there are. Besides Bennet, all the other ferry drivers I’ve seen look like they’re well past forty. And how can they not know Bennet by name? It isn’t as if this tiny island is crawling with good-looking guys. If these girls are unattached, it has to be, at least in part, because they’re fantastically unobservant. Or they really, really, really want to get the hell off this island…
“Just drop it,” I say, looking at the nearest tables to make sure there are no eavesdroppers. Then I add, “And besides, I’ve already got a boyfriend. His name is Andrew Mason.”
At least, he’s a boy and I think we’re still friends, though I probably hurt his feelings with how quickly I ended our last conversation.
“And even if I didn’t, Bennet’s, like, way too old for me.” I lean toward Natalie. “You’re making me look stupid.”
“This is righteous,” Natalie says, clearly thinking tonight was worth the price of admission. “I asked around this afternoon. He’s only twenty-six!”
Just then the waiter approaches with a large basket of greasy home-cut fries.
“We didn’t order these, Liam,” Natalie says as he attempts to set it on our table.
“Yeah, I know,” he says, topping off my Coke. “He did.”
All of us look. Several guys wearing ferry uniform shirts, including the grumpy old man from the ticket booth, are hunched over a card game. There’s another bit of graffiti painted on the wall behind their heads: friendship is like wetting your pants. everyone can see it, but only you can feel its warmth.
“Doyle bought us fries?” Rachel asks. “Why?”
The waiter looks at her as if she’s being particularly slow. He clears our empty glasses, saying, “Not Doyle. Him.”
Oh, God. Sitting beside Doyle is Bennet. He isn’t dressed in his normal ferry attire. His cargo shorts are clean but rumpled, and his faded red T-shirt is untucked. He raises his glass, and my face heats up. How had I not seen him before? Did he watch me sitting here all alone and not say anything? Is he close enough to have heard that whole conversation?
For a second, I’m completely humiliated, but then I wonder what he must think about how quickly I’ve made friends, and I smile victoriously.
“That’s Bennet,” I say.
“Huh. I see what you mean,” Alli says, her sugary, bubblegum voice rising into Double Bubble land. “He is cute.”
“Don’t look at him,” I say as an unexpected and decidedly bitter flood of jealousy washes over me. I have no explanation for the emotion, but I can’t deny the sudden urge to shove Alli off her chair.