"You said we sounded like a Hallmark card. I figured you must have read a lot of them."
"Oh. Not recently, but when I was eight, Butch found boxes of them in the dumpster behind the drugstore back home," I said, cringing before I could even finish the sentence. Did I really just admit that my dad was a dumpster diver? "Anyway, when he brought them home, I felt I needed to read all of them. There were a lot of duplicates, but for the most part I read every one—baptisms, weddings, birth announcements, even condolence cards. I was fascinated with them."
"What did you do with all of them?" he asked, sounding intrigued.
I laughed. "The question is, what didn't I do with them? I made collages from the pictures and cut out the quotes and glued them to blank sheets of paper. Just put it this way, those boxes of cards kept me entertained for an entire summer. When school rolled around, I used the ones I had left to hand out to my classmates. Turns out, I was the only one who liked the sentiments on the cards. Coming from a religious town where the majority of the residents were Christians, most people didn't appreciate their kids coming home with Kwanzaa cards since that's all I had left."
"What? You mean they didn't appreciate that you were being nice?" he asked, smirking at me.
"Strangely, no. It pretty much just reiterated the idea for everyone that the apple didn't fall far from the tree when it came to parents and their children," I said, able to laugh about it. "Hey, I just remembered something I wanted to ask you. What about the turtle nests?"
"You can go out with me tonight to check if you want," he said. His tone sounded chipper, like he was surprised I had asked about them. "I wasn't sure if you were interested. I mean, there's only one left that hasn't hatched."
"Definitely," I admitted, grabbing the bull by the horns. With any luck, he would take the opportunity to move our relationship forward too.
His eyes lit up as a smile took over his face. "Good," he said, leaning in close. I held my breath, waiting for our lips to meet. He gave me a small peck on the cheek before pulling back, which was better than nothing.
As we resumed working through the afternoon, I could feel another subtle change in our relationship. Maybe he had seen through my attempt at talking about it earlier, but all signs looked positive. Like the way he winked at me when I handed him a water bottle or the way he would subtly brush the sand from my face. Without necessarily declaring ourselves a couple, it was apparent we were now together.
When we finished for the day, I rode home with Josh since Buttercup had asked him over for dinner. According to the news, tomorrow would be the day we would start to see the effects of the hurricane.
"Did your dad evacuate?" I asked as we climbed into his truck together.
"Yeah, he's bunking down with my uncle until the storm passes. We prepped our house last night, but it's a tough old bird."
"Are you going to your uncle's too?"
"No, I plan on staying at my house tonight, and after that, I'll be at the station. Like I said, you'd be amazed at the idiots who show up at the beach during a storm. We'll need all hands on deck to keep everyone safe. I wouldn't be surprised if we get more calls than normal."
"I know, right?" I said. "We had crazy tornado storm chasers back in Kansas. Everyone wanted to be the next YouTube sensation."
"Everyone wants to be famous," he muttered, obviously talking about his mom.
"I'm glad I decided to stay," I said, changing the subject.
"Me too."
"Man, we've come a long way. To think, just a few weeks ago you hated me."
"Whatever. You were convinced I was some Boy Scout."
"I still feel that way," I deadpanned.
"I know we kinda talked about this, but I really do feel bad for the way everything went down. The fact that you're the one who suffered all the consequences is pretty shitty."
"You don't have to convince me. Hey, speaking of being a Boy Scout though, is that what you plan on majoring in?" Josh would be a senior this year, so I figured he had a plan for college.
"Boy Scouting?" he teased, laughing when I looked at him blandly. "Yeah. I mean, I'm not exactly a straight-A student, but I'll probably stay local and do something that has to do with the environment. To tell you the truth, I'm already doing pretty much what I want to do," he said, pulling into my driveway behind Butch.
"What? You don't want to be, like, an undercover cop or something?" I teased, climbing from the vehicle.
"Funny. After I graduate I can become an actual patrol officer rather than only a lifeguard, but eventually, I'd like to become an environmentalist. My passion is the land."
I nodded my head, admiring his dedication and loyalty. I had no idea what I wanted to be yet. Some days I convinced myself I would make a good teacher, but the secret part of me hoped to turn my writing into a career. Of course, that was a wish I kept tucked away from everyone else.
The hurricane seemed to be the only topic of conversation during dinner. As fascinated as my parents and I were, we still worried about how the house would hold up. Buttercup was especially worried about her garden that was just beginning to show some growth. Josh explained that most plants were surprisingly resilient, especially if we got no real flooding. He told us the story of when he was eight years old when three hurricanes hit Florida, all within a month of each other. "That's when we saw real destruction around here, but it was also a freak storm season."
It reminded us of a time in Kansas when we had a string of storms that hit one right after the next. There was nothing scarier than seeing houses destroyed only streets away from yours.