The Hollywood Homecoming

4: No Shirt, No Shoes ...

"Where's Mom?" I ask, realizing that a plate isn't set out for her. Usually, she's accustomed to an early bird schedule so she can spend some time with Cody before she goes into work. As a firefighter, he has to work nights: basically, he has the total opposite schedule from all of us, which is why he looks so tired right now. And which is why it's so sweet of him to cook breakfast for all of us instead of collapsing in bed.

"Oh, she's still beat from staying up so late. I told her that she could sleep in. You can cover the Magnolia, right?"

"Yeah," I mumble. "There are only two guests this whole week, so I should only have to stop in for a few moments. Then I'm going cake-tasting with Teresa."

"Hell yeah, you are." Teresa waggles her eyebrows. "We're going to taste that cake so hard."

"So, you're not going to the parade?" Kayley suddenly asks, finally dragging her eyes away from her phone. I have no idea how she's so alert this early in the morning, not until I remember that last night she met one of her idols. She's probably hopped-up on enough fangirl juice to power a small city.

"Parade?" I ask, non-plussed.

"Duh, for Homecoming Week! Today's the first day of events, remember? There will be a parade through town this afternoon followed by a barbeque in the square, and of course Bay will be the guest of honor." Cody clears his throat suggestively as he takes his seat, and Kayley adds as an afterthought, "Oh, yeah. Dad will be the one driving him in the firetruck."

"That's gotta win me a few Cool Dad points, right?" Cody says, winking at Kayley.

"Sure. Okay." Kayley smirks. "Maybe a couple."

I take a long sip of orange juice to disguise my complete and utter disinterest in any activity that Bay Connor might come within two feet of. I used to really enjoy Homecoming Week in the past: it was a time to bring the whole town together, to celebrate community and see old friends. But this just feels like a farce: a commercialized stunt meant to sell movie tickets and boost the Connors' already over-inflated egos.

"I don't know. It sounds kind of fun," Teresa says, breaking the silence, and I look at her as though she'd just stabbed me through the heart. Until I see the mischief glowing in her eyes. Not cool.

"Too bad we're going cake-tasting," I reiterate pointedly, and Kayley just shakes her head.

"So we're never going to talk about the elephant in the room?"

"What elephant?" I snap. French toast churns in my stomach.

"That you apparently knew Bay Connor for years and never thought I'd want to know that? Especially when he gets casted as the most bad-ass superhero from my favorite comic of all time?"

Now, everyone at the table is staring into my soul. And, well, when she puts it that bluntly, of course I look like the jerk in this situation. I never understood Kayley's life-long obsession with Origin comics and the blockbuster films adapted from them, but I do know that they mean a lot to her. Like, a lot.

"Look, I'll admit that we were friends," I say slowly, refusing to divulge too many details about the situation: especially in front of my step-father, which would just be plain awkward. "But things went sour in the end. The Bay Connor that you see today isn't the one I knew. Trust me on that." Even as I say this, I think of the unexpected tenderness in his voice as I left the B&B last night, wishing me good night, and my feelings shift all out of whack again.

"Well, regardless, I think you should have told me," Kayley says, crossing her arms. "Then maybe I wouldn't have thought that you were so lame for all of these years."

Cody chastises my sister for being rude but I laugh, relieved that we've found our way back to snarking at each other. Nature has healed. Sufficiently done with this conversation, I rise from the table and start clearing away dishes. Teresa eventually joins me and says, "I think I need to head to the cake place soon. There's a whole check-in process, and I don't want to be that annoying bride-to-be that holds everything up by showing up late."

"No worries. I'll run by the B&B, which won't take long, then I'll meet you there." I wiggle my eyebrows. "Maybe we can go to Olive Garden after and get bloated on pasta and breadsticks?"

Teresa pretends to swoon. "You know me so well."

"You coming with?" I ask, turning back to Kayley, who's once again deep in Cell Phone Land.

"No," she responds, not even glancing up. "Mom's going to take me to the town square in a bit. I want to find the best spot possible for the parade. I promised my followers that I'd livestream it. You know, because not all of us are lucky enough to live near Bay Connor, like some people."

That last jab was definitely aimed towards me, but I swallow my snarky response and wish everyone a good day before we all go our separate ways; Kayley and Cody going upstairs to wake up Mom, Teresa and I heading outside. She tells me that she's going to walk a few doors down to her family's house so that she can borrow her mother's van for the week, and then it's just me sitting in my car in the driveway, thinking that I would rather dissolve into the pavement then go back to the B&B – and, more importantly, back to the man staying there. As I force myself to start the short drive over, it occurs to me that it will be a miracle if I make it through the week with my heart intact.

But after just a minute or two – the B&B is technically walking distance from our house – I pull into the gravel driveway, my ancient car sputtering to a stop. Walking up to the front door feels like a funeral march, and for a wild moment I imagine the house opening wide and eating me whole. That almost seems preferable to what the next few minutes might entail. I come closer and closer to the front door, and as anxiety ravages my body, I once again force myself to get a grip. This boy doesn't deserve even a second of my time or consideration, and he certainly never took me into account after all of the years we knew each other. Why should I?

Just walk inside, put a few towels in the wash, check the mail, maybe make a bed or two, and that's it. You've done it a million times. In a few hours, you'll be stuffing your face with carbs and won't even remember or care who Bay Connor is.

Squaring my jaw and rising to my full height, I stand before the front door and raise my fist for a courtesy knock. Only, my fist never gets the chance to meet the door, because it flies open with the force of a stormy gale, and all of a sudden there he is.

Bay's frantic eyes meet mine, stunning me into silence before I even realize that he's soaking wet.

And half-naked.

"I think we have an emergency," he gasps.