Full Share (Shore House Book 1) (2 page)

I wrote back,
No, but thank you for letting me borrow your truck to get it down there. It’s very kind.

“Fuck kind,” I heard Ricky grumble as he read the note. He crumbled it and threw it back over our cubicle wall. It hit me in the face right as I was telling an insured we wouldn’t be paying his claim and that the four feet of water his nine-year-old Volkswagen Jetta was immersed in wasn’t a covered loss on his policy.

I settled into my chair and prepared myself for the screams of damnation that were sure to come from the caller. I’d heard the response so many times I had a way of meditating through it. The harsh words and threats of battery couldn’t penetrate the wall I’d erected years ago. I was the perfect claims adjuster.

THE PROPER WAY TO BEGIN A RELATIONSHIP

R
icky came to my apartment before work and traded his truck for my car. He helped me tie down the twin mattress I’d bought, commenting several times how boring work was going to be without my being there. I dropped my backpack onto the passenger seat without responding. SafeOne Insurance would have to adjust Friday’s auto claims without me. I needed to submit a claim for some floor space at a house by the sea.

The air conditioning was broken in Ricky’s truck. I rode the hour and a half to Dewey Beach with the windows down and my hair blowing in my face. It wasn’t until the final few miles where I hit bumper-to-bumper traffic that the heat lay in the truck cab like the foul smell of rotting fruit—the furry kind. There was nothing I wouldn’t endure to avoid spending the summer with my mother.

We’d settled into a tolerable routine. I saw her on holidays and for dinner every other month. I thought we’d spend the rest of my life that way until my mother’s desperate attempts to rebuild our family included a shore house rented for the summer. I was expected to spend every weekend from Memorial Day to Labor Day reconnecting and reliving my childhood along the coast in Cape May, New Jersey, but I’d left my childhood on the purple ruffles of my bedspread my French teacher had ridden her on.

“The house is enormous. We’ll all have our own space,” my mother said, but there wasn’t a property large enough.

I passed the endless strips of outlets and restaurants and drove into Dewey, far away from the house my mother had rented for the summer. There wasn’t an ounce of fear or nervousness in me. The beach house was less exciting than it was necessary. The driveway overflowed with cars. I parked behind the motorcycle on the lawn. I wasn’t the only one seeking real estate. I eyed the twin mattress bungeed in the truck bed and pulled my backpack out of the cab.

This is it. This is my summer. At least, every weekend of it.
I inhaled the ocean air in one deep breath and walked to the house.

“Nora, hey!” Heather said, surprised by my early arrival. She was smoking a cigarette in the front yard. Her cover-up was a plush white terry you’d only find in an expensive store. I’d have run my hand across the thick pile while it was on the hanger, but never have spent that much money on something to cover up. Heather’s had a brown stain on the ruffle touching her upper thigh.

“Hi, Heather.”

Her eyes darted around. She was jumpier than usual. Or maybe just high. It was hard to tell with Heather. We lived together for all four years of college, and the little I knew of her wasn’t endearing, but it worked for us. Heather wasn’t interested in a best friend, either. “Here. Let me help you with your bag.” She smashed the remnants of her cigarette with her flip-flop and grabbed my backpack off my shoulder. She was barely taller than me, which was saying something, since by all standards I was short. She had the new cropped haircut that reminded me of the way she always used to tell me I should cut mine. We stepped through the front door and into the packed living room of the house. Admiring eyes stared at us from every corner of the room.

There were few variations in the muscular, shirtless torsos. All had shorts or bathing suits on, beer in their hands, and grins on their faces. Beyond the pack, my sight froze on Rob Holloway. The most gorgeous guy friend a girl could torture herself loving from afar.

“Nora!” He was hugging me before I had my fill of staring at him. He pulled me to his chest, and the hints of marijuana and coconut sunscreen lifted my nose to his neck. I didn’t have to see him. I’d memorized his wandering hazel eyes and longish hair years ago. The feel of his arms surrounding me was forever engrained in my memory. Everything about Rob, from the guitar solos he played late at night to the way he said my name, was a magnetic force I fought against when I was near him.

“Would you let her go?” Heather teased as she hit Rob on the arm. She and Rob graduated from high school together and then met me at the University of Delaware. Every person in the shore house was from their hometown. I was the only outsider, which was perfect. I could hide out here for the summer.

“Sorry,” Rob said, still beaming at me. “How have you been? Where have you been?”

“I’ve been good.” I couldn’t stop staring at him. He looked so happy to see me, almost like he loved me, too. Sort of. “Living the dream in Wilmington, Delaware.”

“I’ll show you your room,” Heather interrupted and squirmed at the mention of y
our room.
I dragged myself from Rob and followed her through the small living room and kitchen to an enclosed back porch with a twin mattress pushed against the wall. The space on the other side of the porch was bare, presumably for my matching mattress in the back of Ricky’s truck. “Sorry we’re not together. Mila—you’ll meet her later—begged me to share with her. She’s not thrilled about the two half shares in her room and needs backup.”

“Will this . . . room . . . be all mine?” The wood paneling covering the lower half of the walls unearthed memories of my grandmother’s basement. The top halves of the walls were covered in slatted windows with cranks at the bottom. The air was thick with heat as the limited breeze from the kitchen window air conditioning unit fought to reach us.

“You’re funny,” Heather said as she placed my backpack on the floor. “Did you bring a bed?” I nodded, leaving the smile cemented to my face. “I’ll get the guys to carry it in. You’ll share this porch with two half shares. They can only come down one at a time.” I peered through the window slats into the backyard. This wasn’t even a room. It probably was only a patio at its inception, but it was still better than a summer with my mother. “Is that okay?”

“It’s fine.”

Heather looked at me, gauging my response.

“Really. I don’t mind.” The stifling hot porch was my safe haven until September.

“I told Rob you wouldn’t. He said it wasn’t fair. He doesn’t know you at all.”

It sounded like he had a better grasp on common human decency and me, but I wasn’t about to linger on it. I needed this hot, old, exposed porch more than anyone else in the house.

Since my bedroom was basically a fish tank from the waist up, I changed in the bathroom. Rob introduced me to four guys and three other girls, and I forgot all of their names two seconds after hearing them. Two of the guys carried my mattress from the truck to the floor of my porch without ever putting their beers down in the process.

This will be fine
. I lied, even to myself.

“How many people are in the house?” I asked Rob on the way to the beach.

“Sixteen. Eight full shares and eight half shares.” He said it as if it were a completely reasonable amount of people to crash in one house.

“Sixteen?”

“The half shares can’t be here at the same time except holiday weekends. So next weekend there will only be twelve of us.”

“Right. Twelve. Is there another bathroom I didn’t see?”

“One upstairs and one downstairs, so don’t wait until the last minute. We have an outside shower, too. God! There’s nothing better than a beach house.” Rob screamed into the air, ignoring everyone around us. “I love it!”

My oblivious father loved the idea of a beach house, too. He loved most of my mother’s ideas. Poor guy. I’d considered telling him about her French lessons to avoid her all summer, but what would be
fine
about that? Instead, I’d called Heather and asked for a spot in her Dewey house. She gave me two options. A full share for twenty-two hundred dollars, or a half share for a thousand with no guaranteed bed and I’d only be allowed down every other weekend. I sent Heather the twenty-two hundred and told my mother I’d see her in the fall.

“This weekend’s going to be crazy. I think our entire town’s coming down.” Rob was practically skipping as he spoke. He was having the perfect summer already.

“Great!” flew out of my mouth without the sarcastic ring in my head.

Rob slowed for a half step and studied me. “I’m glad you’re here, Nora. I never get to see you anymore. I miss you.”

I stopped breathing for a few seconds. If Rob only knew how much I missed him. Four years he’d spent stopping by, dropping in, and passing out in my apartment. I could sit back and see everything I avoided in my own life in Rob. He was alive every second. He surrounded himself with laughter and excitement. He wouldn’t be secluded by the mistakes of his mother or anyone else. It was Rob’s life, and he was going to live it. There were nights I’d sip my beer and bask in the glow of his stardom.

Our feet sunk into the soft, hot sand as Rob and I climbed the dune. He pulled the sheet out of my arms as we descended toward the ocean, and I looked into the eyes of his girlfriend. The joy drained from her face as she recognized me. I knew exactly how she felt. Her presence deprived me of excitement, too. Blaire recovered almost instantly and waved to me.

It wasn’t hard to understand what Rob saw in Blaire. Even from twenty feet away I could see her flawless body in her almost non-existent string bikini. She was long and lean and appeared to float weightlessly across the world. She had the body of a dancer, but as the universe could be cruel, she was rhythmless. Many a party at Delaware I spent in awe, watching Blaire fling herself in different directions, fighting the beat of the music. It was impossible to believe she wasn’t perfect in every way, until the deejay arrived.

My arm rose and waved back as Rob spread out my beach sheet. He stepped to the side and motioned toward the magic carpet he’d laid out for me, right before he walked over to Blaire and kissed her neck until she forgot all about me. The sun went behind a cloud, and I forced myself to look away. I tried to forget that I’d been forgotten.

The largest person I’d ever been near, in any situation, paused next to my blanket. I’d met an ex-offensive tackle for the Philadelphia Eagles once, and this guy was bigger. My head tilted back to take in the whole of him.
Definitely over six-five.
He plopped down on my sheet, set down the white bakery box he’d been carrying, and waved his hand at the spot beside him, signaling for me to sit. Since I had no idea what was going on, I kneeled onto the sheet.

“I’m Thomas Kragler,” he said and opened the lid to the box. “And these are filled with Boston crème.”

I raised my eyebrows at the box. The smell of the donuts forced the sea breeze from my mind. “They’re lovely?” I kind of asked, not knowing what else to say.

“What’s your name?” He spoke slowly, as if training me in societal politeness.

“I’m Nora.”

“Nora, I want you to eat a donut.” I shook my head before he got the last syllable out. “I made them myself, and it’s the proper way to begin this relationship.” He was enormous, spread out across my sheet, and more comfortable than a family member before me. Just as though he’d known me my whole life and loved me every minute of it.

“Relationship?” I asked as I looked around to see if anyone else was listening. We were now surrounded by ten other housemates, not one of whom cared about us or Thomas’ box of donuts.

“Yes. We’re embarking on a summer adventure. Starting right now, we’re going to be spending a lot of time together, and no matter what happens, we’ll remember this the rest of our lives.” Something about the way he laughed a little as he spoke made me smile. It broke through the absurdity of him perching himself here with me in the first place. “And I want you to call me Tank. Everyone else does.”

I scanned the box of donuts and then my eyes found Tank again. He was waiting for me to bite. Waiting for me to begin our relationship. I reached in and picked the fattest donut in the box. “Thank you, Tank,” I said right before taking a bite. He was pleased, and pleasing him had some appeal I couldn’t place. If Thomas “Tank” Kragler wasn’t happy in this world, why was there a world at all?

Tank took a donut and closed the box. He lay on his back and ate it, the chocolate sticking to his top lip. I took another bite of my own and stared out to the horizon. “You’re pretty, you know?” he asked, and I stopped eating and shielded my eyes from the sun to see him better. “I’m not trying to pick you up. I just wondered if you knew. Most pretty girls know it. You seem a little lost in it.”

“Lost in being pretty?” I laughed to make light of his question.

“Among other things,” he said, and I stared out to sea. Tank dropped the subject and rolled over, turning his gaze toward the ocean as well. When I finished my donut, I laid down next to him. I closed my eyes and left him to the sunshine. I dreamed Rob and I were renting the house alone, and he was lying next to me instead of Tank. We walked back to the empty house, and he made love to me. It was perfect.