But he seemed to be gone.
Maybe, I told myself, that hadn’t been Tommy after all. Maybe it had been some guy I’d waited on at the restaurant, or something. Maybe he’d justlooked like Tommy Sullivan. Or how Tommy Sullivan would look if he turned hot.
Maybe it was just a coincidence, Liam having met a guy named Tommy Sullivan last night, and me seeing a guy who looked like he could have been an older, hot Tommy Sullivan today.
Only…if he wasn’t Tommy Sullivan, how had he known my name?
And what about those amber eyes?
Seth and Dave came in from the water soon after that, and we clambered onto the deck for Cokes. No sign of Tommy Sullivan. Or the Guy Who Could Be Tommy Sullivan if Tommy Sullivan Had Turned Hot.
Maybe it had all been my imagination. Maybe that guy had been someone we knew from high school, some kid I’d never noticed before who’d grown six inches over the summer and started working out, like my brother, or something.
It was possible. Stranger things have happened.
By the time I had changed and pedaled over to the Gulp for work, I had all but forgotten the entire incident at the beach — not to mention Liam’s alarming news. Not because I’d been concentrating on thinking about bacillus instead, but because Seth, who’d met me there so we could sit in his truck before my shift, kept telling me how great I’d looked in my bikini (I knew the bike thing would pay off). He told me what a great year we were going to have — our senior year — and how good we were going to look when we were crowned Prom King and Queen.
Which, I’ll admit, is kind of a cheesy thing to say. Seth and I do have actual intellectual conversations from time to time. Well, intellectual might be stretching it. But every once in a while I’ll drag Seth to a photography show in the city, and try to explain the images to him, why they work or don’t work, in my opinion.
And, okay, usually we just end up making out in some park or whatever.
But Seth’s more like the strong, silent type. He’s just a really good person.
Which is why, you know, I can never break up with him. Because that would be mean, and I’m not a mean girl.
Which is why even after the Prom King and Queen remark, one thing led to another, and soon we were making out in the cab of his four by four…even though it was broad daylight and I had a six-hour shift looming ahead of me.
It’s just very hard to worry about some guy you haven’t spoken to in four years when some other guy’s tongue is in your mouth. Especially when it happens to be Seth Turner’s tongue, which is probably the most sought-after tongue in all of Eastport. At least, among teenage girls. And some of the boys, too.
It wasn’t until I got out of Seth’s truck and biked to the back of the restaurant, to the employee entrance, that I saw that Eric Fluteley was waiting for me over by the bike rack.
So of course I had to chastise him again for the whole Morgan Castle thing. Which wasn’t easy to do while simultaneously making out with him, but I managed. My mom says I’ve always had an amazing knack for multitasking, which is why I get such good grades while still being able to have a decent social life and all, and that even when I was a little kid I could watch TV, color, and make a cake in my Easy-Bake Oven all at the same time.
Which isn’t so different, if you think about it, than making out with a guy while telling him what a no-good, lying dog he is at the same time.
I think there must be something wrong with me. I mean, why do I need TWO boyfriends to be happy? Sidney seems totally content with just one.
Although, truthfully, sometimes I suspect that I’m not all that happy. Not even withtwo boyfriends.
I know, I know. Selfish, right? Most girls would die for ONE boyfriend, and I have TWO, and I’m still complaining.
Yeah. There’s definitely something wrong with me.
I punched in at the Gull ’n Gulp precisely as my shift was starting (because I can make out and still keep one eye on my watch), and was soon so busy that I didn’t have time to think about the Seth/Eric situation…let alone the whole Tommy Sullivan thing, and whether or not he was back in town. By six, five of the tables in my section were full, including two eight-tops — a senior citizen tour bus making its way up the coast. I barely had time tobreathe. Idefinitely didn’t have time to worry about amber-eyed redheads with washboard stomachs and low-slung swim trunks who may or may not be seeking revenge on me for the wrong I’d done them in the eighth grade.
It wasn’t until I went to give the tour bus tables’ drink orders to Shaniqua (since I’m underage, I can only take orders for, not serve, alcoholic beverages, which at the Gull ’n Gulp is only beer and wine) that Jill breezed by and said, “Oh, Katie, did that guy find you?”
“What guy?” I asked. It was already seven o’clock, and the place was packed — and noisy. Peggy has Wednesdays off, so we were cranking the tunes back in the kitchen, and it was hard to hear anything except, at that particular moment, Fall Out Boy.
“The cute redheaded guy who stopped by earlier today to ask what time you work. I told him you’d be here tonight. Who is he, anyway? He was hot. I hope Seth doesn’t find out about him! He’d be jealous.” Jill noticed a new crop of tourists trickling in up by the hostess stand, and said, “Oops, gotta run.”
I stood there, holding my drink order limply in my hand. A cute redheaded guy had stopped by to ask what time I work?
In a flash, I was hiding behind the soda station, stabbing Liam’s number into my cell.
“Yo.” That is the incredibly annoying way Liam has taken to answering the phone now that he’s been asked personally by Coach Hayes to try out for the Quahogs.
“Did you tell Tommy Sullivan that I work at the Gull ’n Gulp?” I demanded.
“Well, hello, sister dear,” Liam said in a fakey voice that I knew instantly meant one of the Tiffanys or Brittanys was around. “And how are you this fine evening? Doing well, from the sound of it.”
“DID YOU?” I shrieked into the phone.
“Yeah,” Liam said in his normal voice. “So?”
“Argh!” I couldn’t believe this. Seriously, it was like a nightmare. “Is there anything youdidn’t tell him about me, Liam? My bra size, for instance?”
“Um,” Liam said. “Not being acquainted with that piece of information, no, I did not.”
I was so mad, I could have killed him. Really.
“Just tell me one thing,” I said, closing my eyes as I fought for patience. “Is Tommy…is he tall?”
Liam paused to consider this. “About as tall as me,” he said, after a few seconds’ thought.
Which would make him six one or two. The same height of the guy I’d seen on the beach.
“Is his hair kind of longish?”
“Yeah,” Liam said. “You could say that.”
I was freaking out again.
“Is he cut? I mean, built?”
“It was hard to tell,” Liam said. “Considering all the cigarette packs he had rolled into his sleeve. Oh, and the leather jacket.”
“Shut up,” I said. “I’m serious! Was he?”
“I wouldn’t want to meet up with him in a dark alley,” Liam said dryly. “Let’s put it that way.”
I couldn’t help letting out a bad word in response to this information. Liam made a tsk-tsking sound.
“Now, now,” he said. “Is that any way for a potential Quahog Princess to talk?”
Furious, I hung up on him, before I could say anything worse.
I couldn’t believe it. Tommy Sullivan reallywas back in town.
And he reallywas hot now — a fact that had been confirmed by multiple independent sources.
And apparently, he not only knew where I worked, but when as well.
This was not good. This was NOT good.