Page 15 of Sea La Vie (The Outer Banks #1)

Lainey

I had a feeling people would stare if I walked into the diner with someone my age of the opposite sex, but not this bad.

Dave is sitting in the corner booth with Sid and my dad, Lucille is sitting at the bar arguing with my brother over her bill, and Eden’s mom is walking out with her grandma—all enjoying a nice lunch at the diner.

They all stop and whip their heads my way when the bell above the door jingles as we walk in.

I mean yeah, this town has a population less than most towns—and most of the eligible bachelors are widows in their seventies—but is it really that big of a deal to be seen with Tate right now?

If he notices, he doesn’t act like it. He just slides up the bar and peruses a menu Henry hands him. Sam and I join him on either side.

Dating in this town has proven to be a challenge.

My graduating class consisted of around seventy people, and I grew up with most of the boys, so I know every little fact about them.

Take Robbie Marshall for instance. Sure, he’s attractive, tan and muscular from years of surfing and shrimping with his dad, but can I forget the time he ate a worm on the playground in second grade? Sure can’t.

The other guys who were eligible to date were more like brothers to me and left for college right after graduation anyway. Most stayed in the town of the college they chose, choosing a bigger city with finer things.

“Hey,” Huck says. “Fancy seeing you here.” I look over my menu and see my brother waggling his eyebrows in my dad’s direction and glancing over at Tate, who is thankfully still studying the menu and completely oblivious.

“Stop it,” I mouth, then more politely add, “Huck, what’s the special today?”

“Fried shrimp,” he says. “You two wanna share a basket? Maybe a chocolate milkshake?”

My dad joins us at the bar in a matter of seconds, the fastest I've seen him move since his heart attack. He scans Tate from top to bottom, then me, his eyebrows cocked in skepticism. Clearly, showing up to our family breakfast and the diner for lunch are enough to make everyone assume we are dating. I’m sure by this time tomorrow, Lucille will have phoned the whole town, announcing my soon-to-be shotgun wedding, because I’m already three months along.

I roll my eyes at their gawking and try my best to pretend like I don’t know what they’re up to.

I swivel around to face Sid, who is still staring right along with Dave. I’ll put a stop to this right here and now. “Hey Sid, do you have an estimate on Tate’s car yet? He’s ready to get out of this place.”

“Part’s still not here! Should be a few more days at least.” I glance over at Tate who nods. I search his face for any clue that he could be miserable here and find a slight frown forming along his lips.

“Put a rush on it,” I tell him. Then to Huck, “I’ll take a chicken sandwich.”

“Too late.” Huck sets down a steaming fried shrimp platter between the two of us and a cheeseburger with a milkshake for Sam, right as Eden walks through the door. She joins us at the bar and gives Sam a big squeeze.

“Please tell me you have two of these,” she says and pops a shrimp from our basket into her mouth with a groan.

“Good luck,” I mutter. She jumps onto the stool next to me, and Huck walks into the back to make her a plate.

“How was the trip?” I ask.

She finishes chewing then shrugs a shoulder. “You know. Same old, same old.”

“Did you at least take advantage of being there? Stop at a boutique? Anything?”

“Not really. We picked up the order from the supply house and that’s about it.”

“We? Who did you go with?” I ask.

Before she can answer, the bell above the door jingles and Henry walks in. He beelines for Sam and sneaks up behind him, tickling him in the ribs. Sam, caught off guard, giggles in delight.

Huck sets a plate of shrimp in front of Eden and turns to Henry. “I wondered when you were going to show up,” Huck says. “I made you your regular cheeseburger and fries but finally threw it out a few hours ago.”

Eden slides her plate over to Tate before Henry can answer and says, “You can have the rest of this. I need to unload everything I picked up today.” Then she walks quickly out the door after kissing Sam on the head. Typical Eden, never able to be around Henry for more than three seconds.

Henry’s arm wrestling Sam and Sam’s giggles are so loud, I almost miss Tate’s coughs. I swivel around and find him, bug-eyed, with his hands clasped around his neck.

“Help,” he croaks.

“Are you choking?!” I ask. “Huck! He’s choking! Do something!”

Huck jumps across the counter and wraps his arms under Tate’s from behind. He starts pumping his fists under Tate’s sternum but Tate continues to cough and sputter, waving his hands wildly in the air.

“You’re going too fast!” Sid says and pushes Huck out of the way.

“Go to the beat of Stayin’ Alive!” Dave suggests from his booth in the corner.

“I thought that was CPR,” Huck says. “Actually I’m almost positive it is. I saw it on an episode of The Office once.”

Dave frowns. “I guess I haven’t seen that one.

I’ll help just as soon as I take a trip to the men’s room.

Too many root beer floats, if you know what I mean.

” He scurries off toward the restroom, and Lucille’s off beat version of the song quickly fills the diner anyway, all while Tate still continues to cough and hack.

“My throat!” He manages to squeak.

“Your coat? Where’d you put it?” I ask, spinning around the room in search of it. “Is there an EpiPen in the pocket?”

Dad grabs one off the rack by the door and throws it in my direction…one that looks an awful lot like faux cheetah fur.

“I don’t think this is it, Dad,” I say, eyeing it suspiciously.

“That’s where that went!” Lucille cries and tugs it from my hands. “I’ve been missing this since last winter! I knew he was a thief.” She narrows her eyes at Tate who continues to clasp at his throat, eyes bulging from his head.

“Throat. Throat! ” Tate manages to point to it while Sid’s still performing the Heimlich from behind.

“ Can’t breathe!” He’s still throwing his hands around and manages to swipe his hand across the counter.

It just manages to catch Sam’s milkshake, and before anyone can register what’s happening, the milkshake is flying through the air and heading straight toward me.

Globs of sticky ice cream are plastered to my face and dripping from my hair in seconds.

Somehow, he manages to pry Sid off him then runs to Lucille. “Allergic,” he whispers. “Help.”

“What do you expect me to do?!” Lucille asks. “I’m not a doctor.”

“You’re a nurse! And you’re married to the doctor! Shouldn’t he be back from the bathroom by now?!” Henry’s eyes dart around the dining room in panic.

“Sam’s EpiPen!” Huck says and digs around under the register until he pulls it out. He jabs it in Tate’s thigh, and within a minute, Tate’s face begins to relax the slightest bit.

“Are you allergic to shrimp?” I ask, ice cream dripping down my face.

“Maybe?” he says sheepishly, obviously still recovering from his near-death experience.

“You’ve never had shrimp?” Huck asks. ‘You lived here every summer for God knows how many years, and you’ve never had shrimp?”

“My family wasn’t big on seafood,” he explains. He reaches a thumb out and swipes it along my cheek dripping with ice cream before popping it into his mouth. He grins boyishly, both cheeks rosy red with embarrassment. My face flames, despite the chill of the ice cream.

“You have no idea how good that feels on my throat,” he mutters.

Henry’s watching us, head tilted, mouth open, no doubt curious as to what he’s just seen.

Because was that, like, super freaking hot?

I feel like it was. When I turn to Henry, he snaps his mouth closed and says, “Let me, um, let me go get a wet rag.” He disappears in the back, dad scurrying behind him, and I’m left standing there with Tate who’s eyeballing me like I’m dessert and he’s starving. Probably because, metaphorically, I am.

Finally, Dave walks out from the bathroom. “Okay, what did I miss?” he asks, surveying the overturned glass, the milkshake running down my body, and the open EpiPen on the counter.

“Everything. You missed everything , ” I mutter. Tate gives him a quick recap and Dave finally decides that Tate is indeed allergic to shellfish. I’m no doctor, but I could’ve diagnosed that one.

“He’s going to need someone to watch after him this evening to make sure his reaction goes away completely since that was a child’s EpiPen,” Dave says. “I’d say some Benadryl will do the trick. Lucille and I would offer, but we’re headed out of town for her sister's cat's funeral.”

“Thank God,” I hear Tate mutter under his breath right at the same time I hear Huck also mutter, “ What? ”

“Looks like you’re the girl for the job, Lainey,” Dave says with a smack to my back.

I sputter out a cough and he pulls his hand away, frowning at the sticky concoction covering it.

“She’ll take good care of you, won’t you?

” Before I can protest, he’s already changed the subject to the town’s upcoming Founder’s Day celebration, and Sid jumps right into the conversation.

Tate gracefully slides away at the first opportunity, leaving Sid and Dave debating who will win the best dressed pirate.

“You don’t need to take care of me tonight, really. I’m okay. I’m sorry about everything.”

I give Tate a good once over and catalog his red, puffy eyes, swollen lips, and gravelly tone.

“Tate, you look kind of rough,” I tell him. His shoulders drop, and he touches a finger to a puffy lip.

“That bad, huh?” He picks up the stainless steel napkin container in the counter and peers into it. “Oh wow,” he mutters, his face scrunching up into a grimace.

“Aunt Lainey! We didn’t get to go to your garden!” Sam cries. Henry and I share a look before he tosses Sam over his shoulder. “Let’s get you in the bath, kid.”

“Come on,” I say with a sigh and motion for Tate to follow me. “I have some Benadryl back at my place.”

“This is some good stuff,” Tate slurs and slams his bottle down. The bendy straw in his bottle of Benadryl threatens to fly out.

“Woah there,” I say, grabbing his bicep to steady him. I can’t help but notice how rock solid it is. When I was in the shower washing off the milkshake, Tate must’ve helped himself to the entire bottle I sat out on the counter for him.

“Let’s get you settled in for the night.” I wasn’t planning on hosting Tate tonight, but there’s no way he’s making it back to Lucille and Dave’s like this, let alone surviving on his own in this condition.

“Your couch is so pretty,” he muses, running his hand over the faded blue fabric. “Just like you.” He grins up at me and reaches out to tuck a strand of wet hair behind my ear.

My face flames under his touch, even though he just compared me to my ancient Facebook Marketplace couch.

“Hey Lainey?”

“Hmm?”

“Where’s your garden?”

“My garden?” I ask.

“Yeah. Sam said you had a garden.” He leans over, losing his balance and falls directly into my lap.

“On the other side of town. How much of that did you drink?” I ask as he swings his legs up onto the other side.

“Just a teeny tiny bit,” he giggles then lets out a Benadryl-laced yawn.

I can’t help but giggle in return at his obvious lie.

He closes his eyes and sinks further into my lap, then lets out a soft sigh.

When his deep breathing fills the room, I let myself study him.

Just for a minute, I tell myself. He may be older now, but I can still see the scared, shy little boy he once was.

Years of living with an alcoholic father, and moving from one town to the next, have added the tiniest little lines along his forehead, but somehow they only add to his attractiveness.

I wriggle out from under him and cross the room to turn out the lights.

“I love your laugh, Lainey. It could light up the entire world if you’d let it.

I know it sure lights up mine.” I turn around, too stunned to speak.

His eyes are closed, and he looks peaceful, with both hands tucked under the side of his face.

In no time, soft snores escape his perfect, parted lips, and I slip behind my bedroom door only to sink down to the floor and contemplate life.