"Tell me again why you want to go visit your brother tomorrow?" Griffin's mom asked, pinning her blonde hair into place. "He's coming next weekend for your birthday."
Griffin sat on her parents' bed while they finished getting ready for some fancy fundraiser thing at the club. She'd decided to casually bring up visiting her brother to them on their way out, hoping they wouldn't stall by asking too many questions. She had all the arguments and reasons she needed teed up ready to go in case they did.
"I let him borrow my favorite tennis racquet when he was home for my graduation and he never gave it back," she said. "I need it for the Charity Tournament coming up."
Preplanned Tactic #1.
Her dad emerged from the walk-in closet. "You have plenty of other racquets, Griff," he said, straightening his lapels. "And it's not like you're going up against a lot of competition in the twenty-and-under bracket anyway."
"...Rob asked me to play in the twenty-one-and-over bracket this year," Griffin said sheepishly.
Her dad looked pleased. "Well, you probably won't see a lot of competition there, either."
Griffin hated when he made comments like this. The only thing more awkward was when he said them to other people.
"The drive to Greensboro isn't bad, though," she tried again. "I'll just go up tomorrow, stay Tuesday, and come back on Wednesday. Easy."
"But, you never want to leave Corbet's in the summer, honey," her mom said.
"I know. But I miss having Bo around," Griffin said, switching to Preplanned Tactic #2. "He hasn't spent a summer here in forever."
Bo had graduated from NC State a year ago and gotten a full-time banking job in Greensboro. He rarely came home. Griffin wasn't lying when she said she missed having him around, but he was also a conveniently perfect alibi to get her out of Corbet's to go to her interview on Tuesday with Bill Hammond. Greensboro was half an hour from Wake Forest.
"Well, I guess we can live with that," her dad said, fixing his cufflinks in the dresser mirror. "As long as you're back in time to rest up for the Charity Tournament."
"First round is Thursday morning, dad," Griffin said. "I'll be back Wednesday afternoon at the latest. Maybe even Tuesday night."
"I don't want you driving late," he said.
"I'll come back Wednesday morning, then."
Both of her parents paused in front of her, her mom in a blue satin gown, her dad in an expensive-ass tux. They looked like such a stereotypical Corbet's Inlet power couple Griffin almost cringed.
She stood up and winced at the bolt of pain that came from the cut on her foot. "You guys look great."
"Thanks, honey," her mom said. "We shouldn't be back late from the fundraiser. What are you doing tonight?"
"Lauren wants to cook dinner for Evan, Matty, and Charlie later."
"Charlie?" her dad repeated. Griffin's stomach flipped. "Do we know him?"
She followed her parents out of their room and down the stairs. "He's Evan's cousin who's here for the summer."
"Well, don't be out too late if you're planning on driving to Greensboro tomorrow," her dad said.
"I won't." Griffin all but ushered her parents through the front door. "We're just cooking. I'll probably be home before y'all are."
Which was 100% true. Even though it was starting in the late afternoon, any type of fundraiser at the club was code for BOTTOMLESS CHAMPAGNE.
Her parents honked the golf cart horn as the turn out of the driveway. Griffin waved goodbye, then slammed the door shut and pressed her back against it.
Success.
She bolted upstairs to start packing for her trip.
Most days Griffin had a lot more patience for her best friend and her constant need to make everything perfect.
Today was not one of those days.
Griffin had already spent the majority of the weekend avoiding her friends thanks to what happened at Mary Kyle's, which left her spending way too much time at the Tennis Hut. She finally got so sick of having the same tennis conversation over and over with Drew Sardis that she was willing to endure the fascist regime that was Lauren Armstrong in a culinary environment.
"Griffin, that's not enough olive oil," Lauren said. She'd been side-eyeing Griffin since she put her in charge of cooking pasta.
To be fair, Griffin couldn't boil an egg without supervision, but that wasn't the point.
"Got it," she said, stirring in more olive oil and trying not to scowl. "When are the boys getting here?"
"They better get their asses here soon. We're almost ready to sit down," Lauren said. She darted around the kitchen, sampling the pasta sauce, making sure the chicken was ready to add to the main dish, setting the table for five... Making Griffin anxious.
...Or maybe it was just the fifth place setting.
"Smells good in here, girls," Lauren's mom said, strolling into the kitchen dressed to kill. Griffin's mouth popped open.
For a woman in her fifties, Ms. Armstrong could easily pass for mid-thirties. Her red, floor-length gown was skin tight (she ran two marathons a year) and fanned out at the bottom. She'd swept her caramel-colored hair glamorously to the side, and her makeup was so flawless it made Griffin wish she'd put more effort into her own appearance before coming here.
Lauren raised her eyebrows. "Damn, Veronica. Where the hell did you get that?"
Ms. Armstrong smoothed a hand down her dress. "This old thing? Just something I had lying around."
"Yeah? Like in one of the eight Nordstrom garment bags I saw you hauling in yesterday?" Lauren asked.
Mrs. Armstrong sniffed, looking annoyed her daughter wouldn't indulge her. "They're throwing a Gala in my honor tonight, Lauren. I needed dress options."
Lauren and her mom were basically the same person. That was why they butted heads so much. But poking and prodding each other was also their way of showing affection. Lauren's dad passed away when she was five, and it'd just been Lauren, her mom, and her two older brothers since. They'd developed kind of a weird family dynamic (not that Griffin's was one to talk), especially since Lauren's brothers had gone off to college a few years ago. That was around the time Lauren started calling her mom by her first name.
"A Gala? That's exciting," Griffin said. "My parents are going to some lame fundraiser tonight. What's it for?"
Ms. Armstrong waved a hand through the air. "Another day, another bestseller the publisher wants to thank me for. They tried to fly me to New York for it, but Wilmington's the farthest I'll travel during the summer. When you're the best editor in-house, girls, they work to accommodate you. Remember that."
"Way to be modest, Veronica," Lauren said dryly.
Her mom gave her a sharp look. "After fifteen years of paying career dues under mountains of manuscripts, modesty becomes flippant once you become the expert, Lauren. I'm good at what I do. They respect me and pay me well for it. I'm not going to hide it."
These kinds of conversations always made Griffin a little uncomfortable around Lauren's mom. She was a bit intense, and she was exactly the type of career woman Lauren was going to turn into once she left for California. Not that it was necessarily a bad thing... It was just... A lot to be around.
"As always, wise words from the Book of Veronica," Lauren said, but she was smiling genuinely at her mother now.
"It was edited well," Griffin said.
Ms. Armstrong laughed, the sound filling the entire kitchen. She came over to give Griffin another hug.
"Oh, Griff, I've missed you," she said, giving her a squeeze. She pulled back and held her by the shoulders. "Hey, Lauren told me that you have an old friend in town this summer."
"What?" Griffin asked, cocking her head to the side.
Ms. Armstrong's smile turned devious. "A very handsome old friend? Rumor has it he was your knight in shining armor the other night."
"Charlie?" Griffin's eyes bugged out. She glared across the kitchen at Lauren. "That's the story you're telling people? It's not even true!"
"Oh, calm down, Griff," Lauren laughed. "It's just Veronica. And he did pretty much come to your rescue. He dropped Mary Kyle on her face to catch you from hitting the ground. It was awesome."
"Sounds like a very nice young man to me," Ms. Armstrong said.
"Well, he's not," Griffin muttered. "He's a pain in my ass."
Lauren and Ms. Armstrong smirked and exchanged conspiratorial looks.
"You guys are the worst," Griffin said, right as the back patio door swung open.
"Ladies!" Evan sang, strolling in with his arms spread wide. Charlie and Matty followed in behind him, and Griffin went back to stirring the pasta so she wouldn't accidentally catch Charlie's eye.
"Evan, darling," Ms. Armstrong said, blowing him air kisses until he wrapped her in a hug. "It's about time you came to see me."
"Please, Ms. Armstrong. You know you're the only reason I come back to Corbet's every summer," Evan said. "Great dress, by the way."
"Dude, you're gross," Matty said, yanking Evan back by the shirt collar so he could hug Lauren's mom next. "Hi, Ms. Armstrong. Great to see you."
"Oh, Matthew. So happy to see you, too."
This time Griffin and Lauren exchanged looks. They both knew Ms. Armstrong loved the attention. Only Griffin knew it seemed to be a family trait, though.
"And who is this strapping young man," Ms. Armstrong said, turning to Charlie.
Charlie dimpled at her and extended a hand. "I'm Charlie Reid, ma'am."
"I hear you're the young man who came to Griffin's rescue the other night!"
He grinned, his eyes flicking to Griffin's. "I do what I can."
Griffin immediately turned back toward the stove to hide how red her face felt. She knocked into a bottle of olive oil on the edge of the counter and spilled it down the front of her blue sundress. She cursed under her breath, hoping no one saw.
"Lauren said you taped her up and everything," Ms. Armstrong said to Charlie. "Are you thinking about medical school?"
"Yes ma'am," he drawled.
"Oh, how wonderful! And I'm sure it's nice having such a great doctor in the family already."
"Yeah, Uncle Ron's been really cool about it," Charlie said. "He's letting me shadow him the next time he goes back to Raleigh to see the team."
That was definitely news. Griffin stopped scrubbing at her dress with a dish towel and glanced over her shoulder at Evan.
He was staring at the floor with his hands shoved in his pockets. She always forgot his dad was one of the team physicians for the Carolina Hurricanes. Evan rarely mentioned it to anyone.
"What a great opportunity for you!" Ms. Armstrong said, then decided she'd given the conversation enough of her time. "Well, I won't keep you kids. Have fun this evening! I'm off to Wilmington for the night."
"You're not driving, are you?" Lauren asked.
Mrs. Armstrong picked up her glittery clutch from the kitchen counter. "Don't be silly, the guest of honor never drives herself. The club is lending me a driver. He should be here already."
"There was a black car parked outside when we walked up," Matty said.
"That would be him." Ms. Armstrong headed for the front door. "Ciao, my darlings!"
Evan watched her until she closed the door behind her. Then he plopped down on a barstool and grinned. "Okay, Lauren, your mom is so hot."
"How do you expect me to respond to that, Evan?" Lauren said. She dropped her voice to mock his: "You sound like every guy who's seen her since, like, ever."
"Aww, don't be all jealous, Lauren," Evan teased back, eyes sparkling.
Lauren looked like she was lining up her next cheap shot, but Griffin pulled her aside before she could take it.
"Can I borrow something to wear? I spilled olive oil on my dress."
Lauren surveyed the damage.
"Yikes. Olive oil's so hard to get out, too." She pinched the fabric between her fingers. "This is good though. I shrank one of my dresses in the wash the other day by accident and was going to give it to you. It's still in the laundry room if you want to just wear that."
"Er—OK, thanks," Griffin said, suspicious of why Lauren kept trying to give her clothes. Still, she rounded out of the kitchen and disappeared down the hallway. Thankfully the boys were too busy discussing a professional golfer rumored to be playing in the Pro-Am in few weeks to notice.
The Armstrongs' laundry room was the second door on the right. Griffin always walked into it by accident when she was looking for the bathroom, regardless of how much time she'd spent at Lauren's house. The place was so big it was way too easy to get lost.
Griffin closed the door behind her and found the dress Lauren was talking about folded on top of the dryer. She held it up and sighed.
The dress Griffin was wearing had thick shoulder straps on the shoulders. The one Lauren wanted to give her was strapless, so the leopard print bra Griffin had on was definitely not an option anymore. At least the bodice material felt thick enough that she could probably get by without one. It wasn't not like she had a lot to work with, anyway. Her cup size was tragically convenient at times like this.
Griffin wiggled out of her dress and decided to go hunting for something to get the stain out. She found detergent and baking soda in a cabinet above the wash and rubbed both into the fabric; then she ran cold water from the sink over it and laid it flat on top of the dryer. It was probably still a goner.
She held up Lauren's dress again. It was black and girly and had a gold zipper up the back. Griffin pulled it over her head before taking off her bra. When she reached back to tug the zipper up, her fingers barely brushed top of it.
That realization came right around the time the laundry room door opened.
Griffin whipped around, keeping one arm crossed over her chest to hold the dress up in the front. It pretty much left her entire back exposed, though. That wouldn't have been a big deal if it had been literally anyone but Charlie walking in.
"This is clearly not the bathroom," he said, hand still on the doorknob. His wide eyes shifted down her body.
"Um. Clearly," Griffin said.
He opened his mouth, then closed it again.
Griffin definitely should not have liked the way he was looking at her. He was a dude and she was a half-naked girl. Not a whole lot to read into, there. But it still gave her a tiny surge in confidence—enough to readjust the grip on her dress and walk over to him.
He flinched back a little as she approached, eyes jumping up to hers.
Griffin stopped in front of him, turned around, and moved her hair out of the way with her free hand. "Since you're here... You mind?"
She expected a snarky comment in return. But instead, she got an uncharacteristic pause that made her check over her shoulder to see if he was still standing there.
He was.
"Oh—um. Sure. Yeah," he said, and Griffin caught a spectacular glimpse of his ears pinking up before she turned back around. She'd never seen him flustered. It was kind of adorable.
He fumbled with the clasp at the top of the zipper, knuckles skimming her shoulder blades.
"Done this before?" Griffin asked, jokingly, but then realized, what guy would know to clasp the back of a dress before zipping it up if he hadn't already done it for another girl?
She didn't like thinking about that.
Charlie laughed a little. It sounded nervous. "No. Well—I mean, yeah. I used to do it for my mom. She has tiny arms, too."
"OK, my arms aren't tiny." Griffin twisted around to scowl at him. He was standing a lot closer than he was a second ago. He looked amused, but there was concentration there in the set of his jaw that pulled Griffin up short. She adjusted her grip on the top of her dress self-consciously and watched Charlie break eye contact to track the movement.
"Of course not." he said, a shy smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He pressed his hands gently to her waist and turned her back to him again. "They just just can't reach things."
Griffin felt him pinch the dress material on her lower back and start to tug the zipper up. She tried to stop breathing so hard. Apparently the zipper was a mile long, though, because it just kept going... The bodice fabric tightened around her ribcage, and she knew the blush creeping up the back of her neck was on full display.
This was bullshit. She'd had all the power a minute ago, and now she was the one trying not to fidget underneath his touch.
Finally—finally—her dress was zipped.
"Thanks," Griffin said. She tried to steal back the air of confidence she'd started out with.
Charlie raised an eyebrow at her like he knew she was failing.
"You're welcome," he said.
Griffin needed to leave. Now.
"Bathroom's the next door down," she said.
She patted his chest lightly as she walked past him, leaving him alone in the laundry room.
"Lauren, what's your mom doing in Wilmington?" Matty asked.
They were all sitting at the Armstrongs' dining room table, an empty plate in front of each of them.
"Going to some gala thing her publisher's throwing for her," Lauren said. "She won't be back until tomorrow."
Evan stretched back in his chair. "She's kind of a boss lady. All my parents are doing tonight is getting shitfaced with their friends and playing light-up bocce ball in our backyard."
Griffin almost spit out her drink.
"Wait a second," Matty said. "Why aren't we getting shitfaced and playing light-up bocce ball in Lauren's backyard right now?"
Evan realigned his utensils on the edge of his dinner plate. "I've got an early workout tomorrow."
"Yeah, sorry boys," Lauren said. "I have to be at the Lodge tomorrow morning at eight to help set up for brunch."
Matty looked suddenly distraught. "Jesus, our parents have better social lives than we do."
"They're old," Evan said. "They can legally party whenever they want. That's a game-changer."
Lauren rolled her eyes. "Since it's so hard to find alcohol in Corbet's."
That was true. Everyone either had an older sibling, parents who didn't care, or a friend of a friend. There was probably more alcohol on the island alone than half the state of North Carolina.
"Hey, Griff," Matty said, lifting his chin to her. "I saw Rob today when I was leaving the driving range and he said you took the next few days off from the tennis hut?"
Shit. Griffin knew she was going to have to tell her friends at some point she was leaving Corbet's for a few days. She'd just hoped she could put it off longer.
"Yeah, I'm going to visit Bo for a couple of days," she said.
"Why?" Lauren frowned. "You hate leaving Corbet's. Don't you have that tennis thing coming up?"
"It's on Thursday. I'll be back Wednesday afternoon."
"Who's Bo?" Charlie asked.
He had been pretty quiet throughout dinner. Griffin couldn't tell if it was because of the laundry room situation or not.
"My brother," she said.
"Oh, yeah, Chuck—you probably didn't meet Bo the last time you were here. Hell of a guy," Evan said. "Hell of a lacrosse player, too. Hey, Griff, do you think you could get him to write down the preseason workouts he used to do?"
"Yeah, I can ask," Griffin said.
Evan's face lit up. "Sweet! Does he have any time to get out on the field? I know he's got that big time banking job now. He's still in Greensboro, right?"
"Right."
"Where's Greensboro?" Charlie asked.
Griffin gritted her teeth. "It's, like, three hours from here."
"It's past Raleigh, heading toward Winston-Salem," Lauren clarified, pushing around a small piece of chicken left on her plate. Griffin hadn't been trying to give away specifics, but of course she could be counted on.
"Winston-Salem, huh?" Charlie said. He looked directly at Griffin. "Never been there. Isn't that where Wake Forest is?"
Shots fired.
Griffin's stomach barreled up into her throat. Anxiety and anger slammed in behind it a second later.
"More importantly," Matty chimed in, "it's where Krispy Kreme started."
Lauren laughed. "Why do you know that?"
"Why wouldn't I know that, Lauren? It's donuts."
"Hey wait," Charlie said. "I think my mom has a friend who works for them."
"Well that's super random. Who?" Evan asked.
"Some dude named Bill Hammond," Charlie replied.
Griffin almost exploded. It took everything in her to keep her face blank. She gripped the sides of her seat under the table.
Charlie just smirked at her from behind his water glass.
"Hey Griff, what're we doing for your birthday?" Lauren asked.
Griffin was surprised she heard her over her pulse roaring in her ears. She had a sheen of sweat running along her hairline.
"I'm down for whatever," she said, too preoccupied by the tension between her and Charlie to give a real answer. "Patio party, maybe?"
"That'll be so great!" Lauren squealed. "I'll plan the whole thing. I just have to get a good night's sleep that night. I have an early flight out to LA the next morning."
Griffin's eyes snapped over to Lauren's. "What? What're you talking about?"
Was she leaving for college this early in the summer? How could she do that?
"I have freshman orientation," Lauren said. "I told you that last week, remember?"
"Oh," Griffin said, calming a little. (But only a little.) "Yeah. How long are you gone again?"
"Until the twenty-sixth. I cannot wait," Lauren said excitedly. "I'll start planning your party tomorrow, Griff. Matthew? Can we use your house?"
"Lemme double check if my parents aren't planning a surprise cameo, but yeah, that should work."
"Not anything too wild, Lauren," Griffin said, hoping it'd translate into, for the love of God, please don't invite Mary Kyle.
"But it's your champagne birthday!" Lauren protested. "We gotta do it big."
Evan held up his hands. "What the hell is a champagne birthday?"
"It's when the age you turn matches the day you were born. Like, Griffin's turning eighteen on June eighteenth."
"Aw, man," he groaned. "Mine was last year and I didn't even know it."
Lauren ignored him and turned back to Griffin. "Your eighteenth birthday is a big deal regardless, but anything goes on your champagne birthday." She grinned. "We have to make it good."
Anything goes, huh?
Griffin's eyes slipped over to Charlie's. He cocked an eyebrow at her.
Maybe for her birthday, she'll get a chance to smack that dimple off his face.
A/N: Yes, that last line was aggressive. No, she doesn't regret it.
* * *
Copyright © 2023 by Alex Evansley
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