Page 22 of Winter Break

I’d started work, and my best friend’s younger brother stopped. I’d settled in, hanging out with Brett and his fiancée and learning the business for real, after agreeing to a deal that Anita assured me was fair in that it was similar to the one that had made her the owner of an oceanfront property years earlier.

“I’ve got no one to pass it down to, and I hate the thought of selling it. I know times change, and it can’t last forever, but I want someone to take over who wants to run a toy store and …”

“And I want to run a toy store. I want to run this toy store.”

“Then it’s settled.”

I kept busy with the store and with my meager social life. Even if I mostly felt like a third wheel when I was with Brett and Mallory, they always welcomed me, and Mallory frequently tried to set me up with friends, or friends of friends, or one time, the hot waiter who served us dinner.

I’d gone on a few dates, but nothing had panned out. Then summer hit, and as Anita had warned me, we were nonstop crazy busy from our big Memorial Day sales event until Labor Day, with barely any time to think or breath.

One day a few months ago, with summer still in full swing, I took a quick break, just to get out, see the ocean, and smell the rejuvenating air. I was leaning on the railing of the boardwalk, a warm summer breeze rustling by, bringing that smell with it, the salty ocean air but also the fried goodness from the food stand a few stores down. I looked from one end of the boardwalk to the other, a sea of people, mostly families, mostly in bathing suits, mostly enjoying their time at the beach, and I smiled, content in my new life.

Then I saw him. One of the lifeguards. He was headed away from me, down the boards, wearing nothing but a swimsuit and a whistle around his neck, a rescue tube tucked casually under his arm. His broad, muscular, tanned back was to me. He had that swimmer’s build, wide shoulders and a tapered waist, his rounded ass flexing as he walked with purpose, his red, town-issued swimsuit wrapped tightly around his thighs. His straight hair almost brushed his shoulders and held sun-kissed streaks that were practically blond among his darker-brown strands.

I knew some of the guards, but I didn’t recognize the man walking away from me until he turned down the crosswalk, running a hand through his hair as he rounded the corner.

I felt like a fucking cartoon character, my jaw on the floor and my eye bugging out ten times their normal size.

Dalton Garner had grown up.

Now bundled up in my winter coat, I tried not to think about summer memories as I dropped off the deposit, then I went out to dinner with Brett and Mallory. But I couldn’t stop myself from picturing Dalton, kneeling in front of the train table, using a funny voice to help a haggard mom.

It was all very confusing. Dalton, the man I remembered from the summer, so adorably and capably handling the twins when their mother asked for help. How was it possible he was Brett’s little brother, the doofus in the shorts, the one who was constantly trading arm punches with his equally scrawny friend?

I may have been distracted, thinking about my best friend’s younger brother, until Brett actually mentioned his name.

“I know Dad’s disappointed, but if Dalt works with animals or becomes a marine biologist or whatever it is he’s into, I don’t know how Dad can complain. There is, like, literally no one in our family remotely good at science, and Dalt, like, wins awards at school for it. I think he’s already got some scholarships lined up. Seriously, how can my dad argue with that?”

I perked up and joined the conversation. “You think Dalt is going to be a vet?”

“Nah. He loves animals, but I don’t think he’s wants to be a vet. He talks a lot about research and global warming and shit like that. I think that’s where he’s headed. You know, like that research lab down the shore that holds all of those events and expos, sponsored by Tidewater University. I don’t understand all the science, but I think he wants to spend his time, like, studying the ocean or whatever.”

“You think he’ll go to Tidewater?”

Mallory chimed in. “I don’t. Tidewater has a great program, but it’s so close to home. Sounds like he wants to get out and see the world, you know? He said he’s applying to Miami and New Hampshire. And he talks about Alaska a lot.”

“Alaska!” I said, sounding overly shocked even to my own ears.

“Cool, right?” Mallory responded.

“Far,” I countered, drawing a sip from my beer. Mallory gripped my wrist and subtly pointed to a group of guys at the bar.

“Mal,” I warned.

“What? I think that guy is checking you out. I’m just saying.” Mallory always thought some guy was checking me out. And he may have been, but the guy at the bar didn’t have long brown hair that was still sun-kissed at the tips, nor did he have broad shoulders or a smile that could light up a room; or at least, I don’t think he did. I didn’t bother to find out.

I saw Dalton again on Saturday. He walked into the store, his best friend, Austin, at his side, the shop full of customers, and me busy at the cash register. I couldn’t help but remember a conversation I’d had with Brett and his mother during my first visit, about whether the two were best friends, or brothers, or something else.

Snippets of their conversation carried over the din of excited children and exasperated parents.

“I think I’m gonna go to Hampstead. Premed,” Austin was saying as they entered.

“This is my shocked face.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Austin said. Dalton slapped him on the arm.

“Language, dude. Seriously, you can’t come back to Breakwater and be their pediatrician if you use that kind of language in front of them,” Dalton joked, pointing around the crowded store.