July came crashing in hard and fast. It seemed like overnight the air had become hot and stagnant, and I sweat so much I had to either change my shirt twice a day, or shower three times.
I shifted uncomfortably, unsticking my thighs from the seat of the plastic chair in the chemotherapy room. The nurse had just finished hooking Nikki up, and the whirring of machines made me uneasy as I thumbed through my book.
"Come on Nat, it's been over a week now," Nikki said. "You're still pissy about the other night?"
That wasn't exactly the word I'd use, but to be fair, the only reason I'd come with Nikki to her appointment was because my aunt was teaching an unscheduled pottery class to make up for the one she cancelled after she fell. That didn't mean I needed to interact with her, but my sister was, if nothing else, persistent.
"I'm not pissy," I gave her an offhand flick of my wrist. "You were in the wrong, just admit it. It's not fair for you to judge someone when you don't know their circumstances."
"Alright, I get it, I..." she paused and let out a hefty sigh. "I don't need a moral life lesson from you right now. I'm sorry, okay?"
I hummed in response.
When I looked over at her, she gave me a sideways glance, her honey eyes flickering deviously. "Given the circumstances, I am willing to move on."
"What circumstances?" I rolled my eyes.
"Don't play stupid Nat." She groaned. "I saw Brooklyn leave that morning after the gallery showing."
"Okay, so?" I replied in a deadpan tone, but heat flared up in my face.
"So..." Nikki continued with intensity. "I want every last detail from that night."
"There are no details," I shrugged.
"That is such a lie," Nikki spat. "I know you weren't drunk, so I know you remember what happened."
"It's not that I don't remember," I said. "Honestly...I'm still trying to process that it even happened."
"Well that either means that it was limp fucking noodles," Nikki grinned. "Or it was totally Earth shattering."
"It wasn't limp noodles," I muttered. "It just...didn't feel real. Like I was watching myself from a distance."
"Natalie it's just sex," Nikki rolled her eyes. "It's not like you had an out of body experience."
But that's exactly what it was. Not the sweaty, scratching, moaning, dizzying, gut unraveling part. It was after. It was the way he held me, almost like he could shield me from acid rain and falling stars.
My long silence prompted a snicker from Nikki.
"God you're so dramatic," she batted her eyelashes and put her hand to her chest. "You love him."
I scoffed. "Now who's the dramatic one?"
"I am just speaking the truth," Nikki replied pointedly.
I hummed and nodded again, trying to return my attention to my book. But Nikki wasn't having it.
"So what now?"
My eyes fluttered over the top of the book to see Nikki still grinning conspirically at me.
"Now..." I sighed out and brought my gaze back down into my book, trying as best as I could to keep my tone casual. "We're going on a date tonight."
"Oh." Nikki nodded and took a beat to process it. "Oh. Like a date date."
"Yes, what kind of other dates are there?"
Nikki tapped her fingers on her chin and squinted her eyes to make it seem like she was mulling it over.
"I guess I'll help you," she said with a sly grin.
I rolled my eyes but threw a smile in her direction. "Who says I need your help?"
"You do, it's written all over your face." Her grin widened as she wiggled her fingers at me.
Maybe I did, or maybe I'd finally found enough confidence in myself to just go with it and not overthink things. But I'd let her help me anyway, it was what sisters did. It was what we did.
When we returned home, we made a beeline straight for Nikki's closet. Nikki sat me down at the edge of her bed and started pulling dresses off hangers and tossing them to the bed. Everything from flimsy sateen slips to cotton maxi dresses piled up on my lap.
"Where are you going again?" Nikki asked with her head still in her closet.
"He didn't say," I replied, tossing a rather exposing piece of red fabric to the floor. "He just said we were going to be outside."
"Why does he have to be so difficult," Nikki groaned. She threw a black jumpsuit in my direction.
I scrunched my face together, ignoring Nikki's flippant comment as I rubbed the soft, linen fabric of the jumpsuit between my fingers. I tugged my t-shirt and leggings off and pulled the jumpsuit up, examining myself in Nikki's mirror. It had a v-neck and thin straps, but it was plain and hit my curves in the right places. A far cry from Nikki's usual loud patterned and skin tight outfits, but for me, it was perfect.
"I like that." Nikki nodded. "Take my jean jacket too."
I frowned at my reflection. My hair hung around my face in loose waves, and my cheeks had the slightest tinge of pink to them. I felt Nikki come up behind me and gently put her hands on my shoulders. "You know I love you, right?" she muttered.
"I know," I sighed out. "I love you too."
Nikki rubbed her temples with her fingers. "We might get on each other's nerves, but you're my big sister and...I really am sorry about the night at the gallery. I'm really just trying to protect you."
"I appreciate it, but I don't need it. I'm a big girl and I can take care of myself."
Nikki huffed out a breath. After a moment or two of silence, she gave me a faint smile. "If this makes you happy, then I'll support you. And dress you and do your hair."
Nikki pulled me into a tight embrace, and we stayed interlocked for far longer than normal, until my phone buzzed on her bed.
BROOKLYN: I'm outside.
"Your prince here to whisk you away in your carriage?" I could tell Nikki was trying hard not to sound bitter, despite giving me a sideways grin.
"Princes are boring." I returned her grin. "Knights are better. They're the ones with the swords and armor, and they're the fighters."
"I guess that makes you a knight too," Nikki shrugged. "Just don't get too hung up in trying to save each other from trolls and dragons, or whatever it is that knights fight."
I chuckled as I rolled my eyes. "Doesn't matter. I don't think there's any trolls or dragons around here anyway."
Nikki gave me one last smile before ushering me out the door and downstairs to meet Brooklyn. A blast of the dipping sun in the oncoming dusk nearly blinded me, and Brooklyn's bright orange button-up shirt didn't help. I inwardly chuckled at the wrinkles at the bottom hem of the shirt, as if he went back and forth several times on whether to tuck it in or not. I knew he cleaned up well, but there was something about this version of him I liked better. The slight unruliness gave him a more unrefined attractiveness, and it made him more human.
"Are we going to direct traffic?" I joked.
He gave me a coy smile as he opened the passenger door for me. "I'm not giving anything away. You know, maybe I just like the color orange."
"I'll keep that in mind," I replied, returning his smile.
He hopped into the driver's seat, and the engine roared as he sped away down my street. The wind whipped through the car, and I silently thanked Nikki for a hairstyle that wouldn't undo in the open air of the topless Mustang.
Brooklyn fiddled with the radio the way he always did, cranking the volume to counteract the sound of the wind. It was moments like that where I wished I could stop time. We really were happy, laughing and holding hands with the sun bathing our world in a golden light.
We made it to the edge of the island, nicknamed The Washout, although I wasn't sure why. Cars lined the edge of the sand dusted side streets, and it seemed as though a little ecosystem of locals and dive bars made its home here. Brooklyn led me to the edge of a dead-end, where a sandy walkway quickly met the edge of the concrete. As we walked along the sand, another smaller restaurant that looked more like a cabin made its home at the edge of a wooden boardwalk, sitting on stilts above the sandy dunes and looking out onto the ocean.
Brooklyn took my hand and led me down the boardwalk, where we had full view of the water as golden bits of sun reflected off the waves like glitter.
"Have you ever been here before?" I asked.
"Only like, a thousand times," Brooklyn replied with a grin. "It's one of my favorite places on the island."
My smile could have rivaled the brightness of the sun. One of his favorite places, and he chose to bring me.
The inside of the restaurant was just as rustic, with deep wood-paneled walls and high top tables sporadically dotted around a rectangular bar in the center of the room. A deck could be seen wrapped around the outside of the restaurant through large open windows, which provided the only real source of light in the whole place. We got seated at one of the tables right next to a window that looked out over the ocean.
Our waitress was an overly peppy blonde with a thick southern accent who flipped her ponytail around a few too many times.
"My name's Shelby, and I'll be taking care of y'all." Another ponytail flip. "Can I get y'all a drink menu as well?"
"No we're fine-" I started, but Brooklyn cut me off.
"Sure."
Brooklyn smirked at me across the table as he reached for the menu from the waitress. "Nat, it's fine. Just because I'm not drinking doesn't mean you don't have to."
"And I'm telling you it's fine. I'm really not a big drinker," I sat up in my chair. "I promise."
Brooklyn shrugged and handed the menu back to the waitress. "However I will put in an order for two dozen oysters, one of the blue points and one of the PEIs."
"You got it." Shelby gave Brooklyn a smirk and a wink before bopping away.
"Oysters?" I arched an eyebrow at him. "Really?"
Brooklyn leaned his elbows on the table and propped his chin up in his hand. "Yes, really. This is one of the best places to get them, and I promise you're gonna like them."
I made a sour face. "They're like...raw, aren't they?"
Brooklyn gave me a knowing smirk as Shelby returned with two large, round dishes filled with ice, and sure enough, oyster shells cracked open to reveal raw insides. I squirmed, and he noticed.
"Okay look," he picked up the tiniest fork beside his dish and pointed to the oyster tray. "There's hot sauce, horseradish, and vinegar. Just drench it in hot sauce if you're unsure about the taste...although to be honest, it really doesn't taste like anything except salt."
I picked up the little fork and twirled it around in my fingers. "Brooklyn, this looks like it'll give me salmonella."
"Just try it," he pouted. "For me."
"Alright," I sighed out. A slid a little grin his way. "For you only."
He showed me how to break up the contents of the shell with the little fork, then dumped a combination of hot sauce and horseradish into the shell.
"I already know this is going to sound dirty, but I'm gonna say it anyway. Just swallow it."
I held the shell up to my nose, immediately getting a whiff of salty ocean water, letting my eyes flutter up towards him slightly. "I think I can manage that."
He snickered then held out his shell to me. "Cheers then."
We both knocked ours back like we were taking shots of liquor, and the tang of the hot sauce and horseradish immediately overpowered anything slimy or sticky. Despite the texture, it wasn't half bad.
"You liked it," Brooklyn grinned conspirically. "I can tell."
"It was fine," I admitted. "Although I don't think I could eat it without hot sauce."
The rest of dinner went by uneventfully and without any more raw shellfish experiments, but uneventful was the way it should have been. Uneventful meant there was nothing wrong. Not a thing wrong in the god damn world.
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