thirsty. Can I have one of those Arnold Palmers, young lady?”
He pointed at my almost-empty glass. I hopped off my stool, nodding hard and flicking the moisture from beneath my eyes at the same time.
Soon after, a summer swim team came in, celebrating a win and wanting massive amounts of food. After that there was the dinner rush. So, just as I’d hoped, I didn’t have time to think.
Which wasn’t to say I forgot about Josh. He was always there in the back of my mind.
The fact was, he’d been in that spot, hovering in my consciousness, ever since I’d met him. First he lodged in my head as a curiosity, then as a delight. Now he was a wound, a fresh paper cut that wouldn’t stop stinging.
When my shift was almost over, and my section was down to one table—a couple nursing cold drinks—I slumped against the counter and breathed a long, tired sigh.
But I followed it up with a little smile. I’d been right to come in today. I put my elbows on the counter and propped my chin on my fists.
“Do you know what, Melissa?” I said to Mel as she did her nightly receipt tally. “I’ve made a decision. When I go back to LA, I’m not taking any more babysitting jobs. I’m going to wait tables.”
“Put me down as a reference, sweetie,” Melissa muttered without looking up from her receipts. But a moment later she stopped herself and looked at me.
“You know, I almost forgot you were from LA!” she said. “You seem so . . . Bluepointe. And you never talk about your life back home.”
I bit my lip and glanced at the Dog Ear wall. I hadn’t been thinking about my life back home either. I glanced at the little calico cat calendar that Melissa kept tacked up next to the cash register. I quickly added up the days we had left in Bluepointe.
Twenty-one.
Twenty-one days that Josh and I could have been spending together. It wasn’t much. On the other hand, you could cram a whole lot of fun—and a whole lot of love—into twenty-one days if you wanted to.
“Too bad he doesn’t want to,” I muttered to myself, shaking my head.
But then I frowned and replayed (for, oh, about the fortieth time) the things that Josh had said to me the previous night.
“This isn’t what I want; it’s what I have to do.”
I bowed my head, scrunching my fingers into my hair. How could Josh think that this was right? He meant well, but if his mom knew what he’d done—
I lifted my head abruptly.
Of course, Stella didn’t know. That was the whole point. Josh’s mom was sweet, but kind of clueless. I would have bet she had no idea how much Josh was doing—and sacrificing—for Dog Ear.
I hopped off the stool and untied my apron at the same time. As I hurried toward the kitchen to hang up my stuff, I called to Andrea.
“Can you do me a favor and check out my last table? Please?”
Andrea looked at me in confusion.
“There’s something I’ve gotta do,” I said. “Now. Before I lose my nerve.”
Andrea glanced over her shoulder at the Dog Ear wall, then looked back at me and nodded excitedly.
“Only if you promise to come back after and tell me everything that happened,” she said.
“I hope there’s something to tell,” I said with a nervous grin. “Thanks, Andie.”
I darted into the bathroom and dabbed at my shiny face with a damp paper towel. I rubbed at the circles under my eyes, until I remembered that I wasn’t wearing mascara and those circles weren’t going anywhere. I took out my hair elastic and cringed as my curls—which looked even brighter after two months in the sun—sprang out in a Medusa-like puff. I pulled the front bits back and let the rest of my hair coil around my shoulders.
Then I gave myself a last, hard look in the mirror, stalked out of Mel & Mel’s, and went next door.
Every other time that I’d walked into Dog Ear, I’d felt elation swell up inside me. It wasn’t just about Josh, either, though that had been the biggest part of it. I just loved the place, with its pretty yellow walls and goofy rainbow review cards, the picket fence and Josh’s broody posters. I loved that there was always some kid running around with a book in one hand and a yo-yo in the other, and of course I loved the couch and the snacks.
Maybe