Smart Girl Summer by Rockaway Kristin

Author:Rockaway, Kristin
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Montlake
Published: 2022-08-23T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

I am a coward.

It’s not that I’m afraid to admit I was wrong. I’m certainly not above apologizing or walking back my previous statements if it means I have a chance at being with Richard.

But I keep wondering: What if he realizes Veronica’s right, that it’s not a good idea to mess around with the help? I could pour my heart out to him, tell him exactly how I feel, only to be swiftly and painfully rejected.

So instead of going to find Richard and having a serious heart-to-heart, I’ve decided to hole up in my room for the rest of the afternoon. The Mediterranean whizzes by outside my window as we race along toward Saint-Tropez, nothing but water as far as I can see. I try to read a novel, but my focus is too scattered, and I wind up tidying my closet and my dresser drawers. When that’s done, I text Arpita: What’s going on?

A few minutes later, she replies, The real question is, how’d your date go last night????

Ugh. I forgot I told her about that. Reluctantly I admit, I didn’t go.

She sends me a thumbs-down emoji, and I feel like a loser. I should’ve gone. I could’ve enjoyed a nice, uncomplicated evening with a nice, uncomplicated Australian guy whom I’d never see again. But no, I had to stick around and flirt with the boss, and now I’m trapped at sea, alone in my room, hiding out for hours on end because I can’t bear to look him in the eyes.

Eventually, I get hungry, but rather than risk running into him on the way to the kitchen, I eat whatever snacks I’ve got hanging around my room, including an expensive container of Mallorcan almonds I’d meant to bring back as a souvenir for Arpita.

Like I said, I’m a coward.

By the time we arrive in Saint-Tropez, it’s after nine o’clock, the lights of the harbor glowing dusky pink. From my window, I can see the promenade is bustling with activity, people dining in open-air restaurants and strolling along the waterfront. Perhaps I’ll head out, have a glass of wine in one of those sidewalk cafés. A bit of liquid courage might be exactly what I need.

I’m staring at my open closet, willing an outfit to assemble itself before my eyes, when my phone buzzes with an incoming call from my mom. In a shocking turn of events, I’m happy to hear from her. Our talks are often frustrating, but I know she loves me unconditionally, and right now I am really craving the comfort and familiarity of her voice. Or maybe I’m desperate for a reason to keep avoiding Richard. Either way, I swipe to answer the video call.

“Hi, Mom!”

“Hello, sweetie. You look like you’re in a good mood.”

“I am.”

“Still having fun out there in Mallorca?”

“Actually, we just arrived in Saint-Tropez. And yes, I’m having a lot of fun.”

I launch into a lengthy description of this past week’s exploits, including Bellver Castle, the sunset cruise, and the beach club (sans the vomit-pool).

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