Isla

14.

1 4 | c a s t l e  r o c k

I WAS TIRED. My body ached as I pushed my squeaking bike to the front of Clemente House, my eyes threatening to flutter shut.

It was normally halfway through summer that working every day at the Shack began to wear me out. It was becoming difficult to roll out of bed and make myself pedal twenty minutes to the beach. At least last summer I had my car.

The sun was just beginning to rise, the sky lightening and turning a milky blue, when I locked eyes with Everett.

He leaned against the wall on the front porch, his eyes settling on me.

"Hey," he smiled, pushing off the wall and jogging to meet me.

"Hey," I grumbled, my voice raspy from sleepiness and lack of use.

His brows shot up. "Bad morning?"

I narrowed my eyes at him. "Why are you so perky at five thirty in the morning?"

He paused in thought, running a hand through his dark hair. "I've spent too much time with you You're rubbing off on me."

"You're telling me," I teased, though my voice came out dry of any amusement. "Don't you know the way to the beach by now? What do you need me for?"

Everett chuckled. "My grandma's paranoid. She's probably watching us out of her window right now."

I craned my neck up towards Clemente House at his remark, and sure enough, her silhouette stood in the top right window of the building – anominous shadow against yellow light. A genuine laugh sputtered from my lips and Everett watched me, amusement dancing in his eyes.

"Told you."

"What?" I laughed, shaking my head. Suddenly, all of my fatigue had disappeared, and I felt light with laughter. The sky was turning blue with sunlight, bathing us in its orange glow and reflecting my mood. "I mean, you're eighteen. Why is she so worried?"

I faced Everett, my chest bubbling with amusement, but his smile had faltered and no longer reached his eyes.

"No idea," he muttered, though it definitely looked like he had some kind of an idea.

I remembered the last time I'd asked him about his life. How he'd gotten angry and distant. I decided to let it drop.

"God, I'm so tired," I complained, letting out a load groan. "Why do I have to go to work?"

Everett quirked a brow at me. "Don't you ever get a day off?"

"Not really," I sighed. "It's tourist season. It's practically the only time of the year that the Shack gets busy." I paused, thinking. "I think I have a day off next week, though."

He hummed at my response, furrowing his brow for a moment before turning to me. "So, why don't you just quit?"

"Quit?" I laughed, raising a brow.

"Why not?" he asked. I faced him and he sent me a serious look. "You're a teenager. You should be enjoying your summer. Connor and River don't have jobs."

"That's because River is loaded."

"Seriously, Isla," Everett said. My brows drew together, and he sent me a curious look. "You wake up every day of your break before the sun is even up, and then work your arse off, sometimes for twelve hours straight. Why do you do it all?"

"I just need the money," I said finally, shrugging.

He paused, hesitating, as if wondering whether to push it or not. Eventually, his curiosity got the better of him and he turned to me with a lifted brow.