One Summer Isn't Enough (Summer, #4)

chapter 3

BELLY

I wake up to see the glittering night sky running past me as the car speeds down the highway. The radio is playing "This Love" by Taylor Swift at a low volume in the background, and Conrad is drumming his thumb softly against the steering wheel.

I rub my eyes to rid them of any lingering sleep, and Conrad notices that I'm awake. "Good night, Sleeping Beauty. Sleep well?"

I lean over and place a small kiss on his shoulder. "Definitely. I had no idea I was that tired."

He smiles as he rolls his eyes. "Belly, you could have slept fourteen hours the previous night and it would still take you about ten seconds to go to sleep after your head hits the pillow. You and Jere are the—"

His eyes dart over to mine mid sentence when he realizes who he was about to mention. Jeremiah. Even though Jere and I still talk fairly regularly, it's still awkward when he comes up in conversation. He came to the wedding, but the only interaction between us was when he hugged me stiffly and congratulated us in the most robotic voice I've ever heard, especially from someone as lively as him. The awkwardness factor of this multiplies by almost a hundred times when I realize that if I hadn't come clean about my true feelings for Conrad when I did, the person sitting next to me right now would be my brother-in-law.

Trying to shield the playful, happy mood we have going on from the awkward tension looming over it, I roll my eyes in return. "I really didn't know I was that tired! I certainly didn't feel tired," I respond indignantly. "Plus, my body's probably thanking me for the battery recharge, which I'm sure your body doesn't do often, seeing as how you get about six hours of sleep a day."

"Well, good thing we're almost at the airport. It's a direct flight, so you can sleep all the way to Hawaii." He pauses and smirks before adding, "Or, you know, we could do... other things."

I smack his arm, my face reddening more and more by the moment. "We're not joining the mile-high club anytime soon, Fisher. Put it out of mind."

Forty-five minutes later, we've checked our luggage in and have gone through the security checkpoint. Conrad said he had a surprise for me, so I'm waiting at our gate while he gathers whatever his surprise is. I have my backpack slung over my back, and my suitcase along with Conrad's suitcase standing next to me. As I go to pull my phone out of my pocket to pass the time, it vibrates with a text from my mom.

"Get to the airport safely? Let me know– you know how I worry"

I smile and shake my head as I open up the messages app. Even though I'm with one of the few people on earth that my mom implicitly trusts with my safety, she still needs the assurance that I'm okay.

Her text brings back memories of how she would text me sporadically whenever I was out shopping with Taylor at fourteen, and even when I was studying abroad in Spain and she would call me every night, without fail, to check in on how I was doing. And even though I never admitted it, I grew to depend on those hour-long nightly check-in calls. I made some friends in Spain, but without the people I've surrounded myself with for the entirety of my childhood and teenage years, I couldn't bring myself to establish lasting friendships with these new people. Not when the people back home were the only ones I could think about.

I take a quick selfie in front of the sign with our gate number and destination, flashing an aloha sign paired with what my dad penned as the signature 'Jelly Belly' grin. What it really is is just me smiling way wider than necessary, to the point where my eyes are almost shut. My dad used to say that the smile reminded him of when I was little and would stuff my face with Jelly Belly jelly beans, so much so that I would have trouble chewing.

A moment after I've added a little caption to the photo and sent it to my mom, I look up to see Conrad striding confidently toward where I'm sitting, holding something behind his back.

The annoying butterflies in my stomach really need to exit stage left soon.

He stands in front of me and presents me with a warm Starbucks cup and then places what looks surprisingly similar to the dirt bombs that Susannah used to get for us in front of me. He takes a seat next to me and says, "Your specialty paired with a Cousins specialty."

Oh, Conrad. Could you and your sweet little lopsided grin get any more endearing?

I bring the muffin to my nose and take a deep breath. The familiar, cinnamony scent causes me to immediately close my eyes to reign in the rush of memories."They smell just like those good muffins! Where'd you get them?" I ask, already taking a bite into mine.

He smiles a devilish grin, unwrapping his muffin. "A magician never reveals his secrets. But since I love you, I'll tell you." He chews, swallows, and then continues, "When we were walking to the gate from the security checkpoint, I saw a little bakery that had a sign advertising customizable muffins. It's essentially where you tell them what flavors you want, and they'll make it for you."

I nod and take a careful sip from my Starbucks cup, smiling to myself as I recognize what I'm drinking. Hot chocolate. "My specialty, huh?" I ask, leaning forward to place a small kiss on his nose.

His eyes glaze over at my kiss, but he shrugs as if to show his apparent nonchalant attitude. Which I've been able to see right through since we were kids.