The Unexpected Everything - Morgan Matson Page 0,102

I nodded.

“Duty calls,” I said, then arched an eyebrow at him. “What do you say? Want to walk some dogs with me?”

“Seriously?” Bri asked, looking around at all of us. “I’m really the only one who thinks that sounds dirty?”

“I heard it this time,” Palmer said, nodding. She frowned at me. “Keep it clean, you guys. There are children here.”

“We’ll try,” Clark said, getting to his feet and—unfortunately—pulling on his T-shirt.

“Did you see my moves?” Wyatt asked Bri as he flopped down in the sand next to her, despite the fact that Toby had moved so far over on her towel to make space for him, she’d forced Tom onto the sand.

“By ‘moves,’ do you mean falls?” Bri asked. “Because those really were impressive.”

Wyatt laughed and made an obscene gesture at her, which Bri returned. “It’s because the water was too deep,” he said, pushing his wet hair back. “If we were in a pool, it would be different.” He looked around at us. “Any of you acquire a pool since last year?”

Tom shook his head, and Wyatt shrugged, like he was letting it go, when Clark said, sounding just a little bit nervous, “I’ve got a pool.”

Everyone looked over at him, eyes lighting up, and I felt my stomach sink. I tried silently to tell him to walk this idea back, pretend he thought they meant billiards, that it was under construction, anything. Because I knew my friends—they were pool-hungry maniacs with no sense of politeness at all when it came to using one.

“Really?” Toby asked, smiling at Clark, then glaring at me. “And why is this the first time we’re hearing about it?”

“It’s just . . .” Clark hesitated. “I mean, it’s not my house. It’s my responsibility for the summer, so I didn’t want anything to happen to it. . . .”

“Wait,” Wyatt said, raising an eyebrow. “You live there alone?”

“Yeah,” Clark said, and I fought the urge to bury my face in my hands.

“This,” Palmer said, grinning, “is awesome.”

“Thanks for the invite, brother,” Wyatt said, hitting Clark on the back as Tom winced in sympathy. “Party at Clark’s tonight?”

“Text us the address?” Bri asked, and I nodded, knowing there was no way to get him out of it now. I glanced at my phone and realized I really did need to get going—one of my dogs, Wendell, had a tendency to gnaw on doorframes when I was running late. I gathered up the rest of my things, pulling my sundress over my bikini and stepping into my flip-flops.

“So I’ll see you guys tonight,” Clark said, starting to leave, taking the beach bag from me and slinging it over his shoulder. “I’ll, um, get some snacks? Like chips, maybe?” He turned to me, and I nodded, reaching out my hand for his and giving it a squeeze as I realized that this was probably the first party he’d ever thrown. “And Toby?” She looked up at him from where she’d surreptitiously been putting on lip gloss. “For every curse, there’s a cure. You know that, right?” Wyatt looked over at him, frowning, and Clark added quickly, “It’s a thing in my books. You know, with the dragons.”

“We should go,” I said quickly, feeling the need to avert my eyes from Toby’s expression and how hopeful she suddenly looked.

• • •

“Tell me their names again,” Clark said as he looked at the five dogs in front of us.

“Well, that one’s Bertie.” Bertie was currently running circles around Clark, who was trying to untangle himself, in what was pretty much a perpetual loop.

“Thanks for that,” Clark said, wobbling slightly as Bertie lunged for a squirrel.

“And that’s Rufus,” I said, pointing to the terrier mix who was chewing his own leg. “Jasper, Pippa, and Wendell.”

“Whatever happened to Rover and Spot?”

“I’m walking them later tonight,” I said, and Clark laughed. He leaned down to kiss me, and I kissed him back, hoping that the five dogs on their leashes would keep calm for a few moments.

It had taken me three weeks, but I was finally getting the hang of this dog-walking thing. My car now had towels spread over the backseat and was stocked with treats and water and collapsible bowls. I could tell the difference now between a dog sniffing with purpose and just trying to stall and look at a squirrel a little longer. I’d found my favorite brand of plastic bag—orange, biodegradable, from Raiders of the Lost Bark, whose name thrilled Bri to no end. She’d almost lost