Fifteenth Summer - By Michelle Dalton Page 0,32

was, though. She’d just met the guy! Okay, re-met him, but still. Your first kiss with someone new should be at least a little private, right?

Abbie clearly agreed with me, because suddenly she appeared at Hannah’s side. She gave Liam a quick, insincere smile before she tugged Hannah away.

I watched them tuck their heads together for a quick conference. Surely Abbie wanted to leave.

But it looked like Hannah wanted to stay.

And me?

Well, that depended. I returned my gaze to the refreshment table and felt my heart sink.

Josh wasn’t there.

I searched the rest of the party, squinting to try to find him in the sea of lights. At that moment I couldn’t remember what he was wearing. All I could picture was his shy, sheepish smile.

Like he was sort of nervous/excited to see me.

Until, maybe, he realized that girls like Tori found him irresistible, and going on a “food run” had become incredibly important.

I ground my teeth in frustration and looked down at my feet. Even in the dim light I could still see my blue shoes and turquoise toenails. They were so bright, they practically glowed. And yet they’d been planted in one spot for most of the night, waiting. Waiting for my sisters, waiting for Josh.

Well, I wasn’t going to wait anymore. I started to head over to Abbie and Hannah. I was going to poke my head into their little conference and announce, “That’s it. We’re leaving!”

And really, really hope they listened to me.

But just as I started across the dock, I heard a voice.

“Chelsea!”

I whipped around to see Josh, standing right where he’d left me. He held two red plastic cups and, in the crook of his arm, a bowl of pretzel rods.

He held one of the cups out.

“I got you something to drink,” he said formally.

I smiled tentatively and walked back to him. He’d braved the gross refreshments table to get me a drink. And snacks! Nobody had ever gotten me drinks and snacks at a party before, except maybe my dad. It seemed like such a grown-up thing to do!

“It’s Faygo Redpop,” Josh said as I took one of the cups. “That was the only one that still had any fizz left.”

Okay, sort of grown-up.

Josh thrust the bowl at me, and I took a pretzel rod. Not that I was even slightly interested in eating or drinking right then.

“So, I’m on page forty-two,” Josh blurted. “What about you?”

“Page . . . ?” I was completely confused.

“Coconut Dreams,” Josh said. “Or did you chuck it after the one-page description of Kai’s smoldering brown eyes?”

I laughed out loud.

“You’re not actually reading it,” I said. “Are you?”

“Enough to get to that tragic description of the suckling pig at the luau,” Josh said. “The writer laid it on a little thick, didn’t she?”

“Oh my God, yeah,” I said. “All that stuff about the singed eyelashes and little charred tail? I think she wanted us to think of the suckling pig as Wilbur and become vegan activists or something.”

“Lemme tell you,” Josh said, “Charlotte’s Web is kind of a thing at Dog Ear, and Veronica Gardner is no E. B. White.”

“But it’s like a car wreck now,” I said, and giggled. “I can’t look away. Plus, the library’s, like, never open, and I’ve read everything else in our cottage.”

“You should get that book I showed you,” Josh said. He chomped on a pretzel absently. “Beyond the Beneath.”

“I’m pretty broke,” I said. “I’m trying to save up for a new e-reader, but at this point I can barely buy myself a paperback. I guess I should look into getting some babysitting jobs, since we’re here for the rest of the summer. I’m waiting until I get desperate enough.”

“Oh, so you have no sympathy for suckling pigs and you hate children,” Josh said with teasing grin.

“I like kids,” I protested. “But there’s only so much Candy Land and PB&J a girl can take.”

“Well, how do you feel about tuna salad?” Josh asked.

“Um,” I said, “I guess some kids like it, but—”

“No, I mean you,” Josh said. “I happen to know that Mel and Mel’s is about to put a ‘Help Wanted’ sign in their window.”

“The coffee shop?” I asked.

The coffee shop that’s right next door to the bookstore where you work every day?

“Yeah,” Josh said. “Melissa’s good friends with my mom. She mentioned that they were looking for somebody new.”

I pictured Mel & Mel’s. It was called a coffee shop, but it wasn’t the kind that had hissing espresso machines and nutmeg-dusted