Put It Out There

“As friends. I made that clear, since I’m not at all prepared to jump head first into the deep end of dating.”

“Yes! I can’t wait to help you choose an outfit.” She grinned and clapped her hands in front of her face. “Ooh, let’s make this even more interesting,” she said in a calculated tone as she stood. Her chair scraped loudly as it slid out behind her.

My mouth literally fell open as she crossed the lounge and leaned her hands on the table Mason was seated at. She spoke directly to him, not even bothering to acknowledge Corrine and Paige. When she pointed her thumb back over her shoulder, Mason glanced at me and smiled. I considered diving under my table. Sophie stood up straight and flipped her long black hair over her shoulders. She shot a look at the girls at the table, but it didn’t appear she said anything to them. The last thing she did was gesture at Mason in a see-you-there kind of way and turned to strut back towards our table. I stopped looking at Mason. Mortified.

“God, he’s gorgeous,” she sighed as she sat back down beside me.

“I. Am. Going. To. Kill. You,” I hissed and made a point of articulating each murderess word slowly.

“I didn’t even mention you. I just told him about the band. And pointed out that it might be a good place to meet people, you know, since he’s new in town.”

I shook my head in utter opposition. “You are so dead. When did everything become about getting Derian a date? Let’s find a new topic. Music, genetically modified produce, world peace, or—”

“Ah, come on. If having two guys to choose from isn’t fun for you, it will at least be entertaining for me to watch.”

“I’m so glad my non-existent love life amuses you.”

“An existent love life would amuse me more, especially if it’s with two guys at once.”

“I don’t have the time, skill level, or experience to date one guy, let alone two. Fortunately, there’s more to life than boys. How about we focus on something other than me finding a mate?”

“I’m not suggesting you go boy crazy, but it won’t kill you to take your nose out of a book and get a little action. Guaranteed, your health-class textbook will back me up. Getting busy is a normal, healthy part of adolescent social development.” She leaned over and interrupted Doug and his incentive program friends in the middle of a debate about some political conflict. “College guys will prefer a woman who knows what she’s doing, right?”

“Yup,” he said, without even hesitating. Then it hit him that he probably should have thought about it before he responded. “Was that a trap?”

“Nope,” she reassured him and turned back to me. “See. Trust me, my little dating Padawan.”

Getting a little action, as she put it, just for the sake of gaining experience, honestly didn’t appeal to me. Being the only university student who had never been kissed, however, was not all that appealing either.

CHAPTER FOUR

The rest of the afternoon dragged because, as it turned out, not much had changed in the year I’d been gone. Same boring classes, same small-town teachers, and same shallow, immature classmates. After school, I walked across the grass to wait for Trevor. Since I didn’t have any homework to do and forgot to bring a book, I just sat on a bench next to the parking lot. The day hadn’t gone at all how I imagined it would go. A few people had welcomed me back. A few people had no idea who I was. Most people acted as if they hadn’t even noticed I’d been missing for a year. Not one person said anything about my dad. It wasn’t exactly bad, but it wasn’t what I expected either.

Twenty minutes passed before I realized Steve was one of the people playing tennis in the courts in front of me. When he finished his match, or game, or set—whichever it was, he walked over and sat beside me on the bench. “Do you need a ride?”

“No thanks. Trevor is picking me up after he finishes work.”

“Oh, is he your boyfriend or something?”

That was a first. People mistook him for my brother all the time, but nobody had ever asked if he was my boyfriend. “No. He’s my neighbour.”

“So, you don’t have a boyfriend?”

“No. Do you have a girlfriend?”

“I hope to.” He grinned and leaned in a little. “I’m going to set another intention. I’ll let you know how it turns out.”

Was he flirting? It felt like flirting, not that I was an expert. My face definitely flushed and my stomach felt weird. “Did you have a good practice?” I asked, to break the awkwardness.

“Yeah, I was killing it,” he joked. “Weren’t you watching?”

Not sure how to admit that although I’d stared right at the tennis courts the entire time, I was thinking about other things and not paying attention. I said, “Sure. You were awesome like, like, um. Who’s a famous tennis star?”

He laughed at my unsuccessful attempt to sound athletically hip. “I was awesome like Roger Federer. You can tell everyone you think that.”

“Roger Federer. I will, if I can remember his name.”

He smiled before he said, “Your hair is such a cool colour.”

I ran my hand over it self-consciously. “Brown?”

“In the sunshine it looks red and blonde and brown. It’s really pretty.”

“Thank you.” I tucked it behind my ears. So bad at the flirting thing.

“For Saturday, I’ll pick you up at the Inn at eight, if that works for you.”

“Sure.” As I agreed, Trevor’s truck pulled up into the parking lot with Murphy—his impressively muscular best friend—in the passenger seat. Murphy was the same age as Trevor, but he looked older because he was so massive and shaved his head bald. They both volunteered for Search and Rescue, and Murphy was training to be a paramedic. Trevor laughed at something Murphy said. Then they both eyeballed Steve in a cautionary way as he said goodbye to me and walked past the truck towards the school gym.

“Hey Deri,” Trevor crooned in a mocking way as I slid in to the back seat.

“Hi. Hi Murph.”

Murphy nodded his greeting and said, “Welcome home, Deri. Everyone missed you last year.” He smacked Trevor’s shoulder, then turned in his seat and studied my face with a perplexed expression.

“What?” I frowned and leaned back against the seat.

“You look different.”

“Good different or bad different?”

“Well, that’s kind of a trick question. It’s not a bad different, but if I say it’s a good different, you’ll assume there was something wrong with how you looked before, which there wasn’t. So. Just different. Right, Trev?”

Ignoring the good-versus-bad debate, Trevor lifted his chin in the direction Steve had gone and asked, “What was that?”

“What was what?” I mumbled.

“It looked like maybe you were getting asked out on a date.”

Murphy seemed to enjoy the embarrassment that was probably evident from either the burning fuchsia cheeks, the sinking posture, or the slight groan. “We’re just friends,” I finally said to make them leave me alone.

“What’s his name?” Trevor asked, as he shifted the truck into reverse and backed out of the parking stall.

“Steve.”

“Steve what?”

“What difference does it make?” I shook my head and stared out the window, wishing he would drop it.

“I’m not going to let you go out with some random guy without doing a background check on him first.”

“He’s not random, and who made it your job to screen my boyfriends?”

“Oh, he’s your boyfriend?” Trevor faked a gasp and shot an overly exaggerated incredulous look at Murphy.

“No, he’s not my boyfriend, and I don’t need you doing background checks on anyone. I’m not a little kid, and you’re not my big brother.”

“I’m still going to watch out for you. Nothing will stop me from doing that.”

I glanced up and our eyes met in the rearview mirror. Based on how much his tone resembled the one he used when he was being protective over Kailyn, I knew he wasn’t joking. I could take care of myself, but since my dad would have been comforted by Trevor keeping an eye on me, I didn’t bother to argue.

Murphy broke the silence between us by telling me a story about how they got mugged at gun point in Brazil. Fortunately, they only had a small amount of cash on them and the guy didn’t take their passports. Besides that incident, the rest of the stories sounded like amazing experiences.

Murphy was a member of the Squamish nation and his ancestors had lived in the Squamish area, literally, since the beginning of time. He was headed down to Britannia with us because Trevor’s dad had planned a welcome-home barbecue for them with all the Search and Rescue volunteers. They never usually invited me to their parties, so when Murphy asked, “Are you coming?” my mouth dropped open in shock.

“Uh,” I glanced at Trevor. His expression was completely indecipherable. “Trevor hadn’t mentioned it, so I didn’t know I was invited. But, I don’t have any other plans tonight. So, I guess. Sure.”

“Great,” Murphy said, and punched Trevor’s shoulder.

Trevor didn’t appear impressed, and I wasn’t sure if it was because he wished Murphy hadn’t invited his honorary little sister to a party with every good-looking fire fighter, forest ranger, ski-patrol member, and pilot who lived in the Squamish district, or if the shot to the shoulder had actually hurt.

When we pulled into the parking lot in front of the Inn, the fire alarm was ringing. Trevor skidded to a stop as the guests crowded out the exits. Both he and Murphy jumped out before I even fully processed what was going on. Of all the worst-case scenarios for the Inn I’d been worried about, burning down was not one I had considered.

CHAPTER FIVE

Once I snapped out of my shocked stupor, I hopped out of Trevor’s truck and wove through the flow of guests as they evacuated the Inn. I couldn’t see or smell smoke, so I rushed into the lobby to search for my granddad. Murphy headed through the dining room towards the kitchen. Trevor took the stairs two at a time up to the second floor. I ran down the first-floor hall but stopped abruptly when I turned the corner and saw the problem.

Massive amounts of water poured from the ceiling through the light fixtures. It was already ankle deep. Not sure what to do, I stood stunned, motionless, and getting drenched until Trevor rushed down the hall and passed me. He leaned on the emergency-exit handle and pushed it outwards to let the water flow out into the parking lot. “Everything’s fine upstairs,” he said, not even out of breath. “But there is an elderly guest who needs help with the stairs. Ask your grandpa to turn the water off while I go back up and help her.”

I nodded, but he was already gone before what he asked me to do sunk in. I sloshed through the water back towards the lobby. My granddad was out on the front porch and announced to the crowd, “It’s just a false alarm. The fire department will assess the situation and give us the all clear to go back in shortly. Sorry for the inconvenience.”

They mumbled things like how they should have stayed in a modern place in Squamish.

When Granddad saw me, his white caterpillar eyebrows angled together. “Why are you wet?”

“It’s not a false alarm this time,” I whispered and glanced at the unhappy guests. “The sprinklers are going off in the hall by my room. It’s flooding.”

“Did you see a fire?”

“No.”

“Did you smell smoke?”

“No, and the sprinklers aren’t going off anywhere else.”

We both ducked back inside. He waddled around to check the panel behind the front desk, pushed his glasses up his nose, and squinted at the little lights. “It looks like a pipe burst.” He turned and rushed towards the boiler room.

Ten seconds later, the screeching and clunking sounds of the water being shut off echoed through the building. The alarm stopped. Granddad appeared, grumbling about the rusted-out pipes and cursing the building for not being worth saving. He shook his head as he dialled the phone to call a plumbing company. I waded down the hallway towards my room, hoping the damage wasn’t too bad.

It was bad.

Streams of water dripped out of the light fixtures, making them flicker. The floral wallpaper drooped over in heavy, sopping strips. The roof tiles were sagged in some areas, and broken in others. It looked horrible. Trevor and Murphy helped members of the volunteer fire department carry pieces of antique hallway furniture and my grandmother’s oil paintings out to the parking lot. I quickly collected some of the more valuable items to help. It was already too late for the silk flower arrangements, which was fine. I never liked those dust collectors anyway. I arranged everything on a dry part of the parking lot and rushed back to find more things. Nothing else could be saved. When Trevor stepped inside, he ran his hands through his wet hair to push it off his face and smiled.

“Why are you happy?” I mumbled, fighting tears. “Everything’s ruined.”

“Don’t worry. It can be fixed.”

“We can’t afford to fix it,” I snapped, because if I didn’t get angry, I was going to burst out in full-blown tears.

Knowing me as well as he did, he saw the panic underneath the frustration. “Insurance will cover it.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Cheer up.” He mussed my hair and poked me in the ribs playfully. “You just got your renovations paid for.”

I scanned the damage to the hallway, and a smile crept onto my face as I realized the disaster was potentially a great thing.

Trevor laughed as he reached up, removed the glass, shell-shaped covers to the wall sconces and tipped the water out of them. “When did you start wearing make-up? You look like that racoon we saved from drowning when we were kids.”

“Gee. Thanks.” I wiped my cheeks with the back of my hand, then swatted his arm. “What’s wrong with wearing make-up?”

“Nothing.” He turned his back to peel back a corner of wallpaper. “You don’ need it, though.”

Oh. Generally speaking, I was more interested in being respected for intelligence, and I didn’t really buy into stereotypical definitions of beauty, but it was a solid compliment coming from a guy who had high standards and only dated stunning women. My self-esteem didn’t hinge on what others thought of me, but I had to admit it felt pretty good to know Trevor thought I was pretty when I was au naturel.

Murphy stepped in through the emergency exit with Trevor’s dad, Jim, following him. Behind them was a line of Search and Rescue guys who had come down for the barbecue, but took a detour to help the fire department volunteers and check out the damage. Jim inspected the ceiling and wood floorboards, then asked the guys to help Trevor pull down strips of the soggy wallpaper.

“Did your room get wet?” Jim asked me.

Shit. I hadn’t even thought to check. I didn’t have a lot of stuff, and almost none of it was expensive. But a few of my dad’s things were irreplaceable. I opened the door slowly and braced for the worst. To my complete relief it was perfectly dry, except for a little water that had seeped under the door seal.

Trevor smiled and winked in his I-told-you-everything-was-going-to-be-okay way. Jim and my granddad met at the end of the hall and discussed what should be done to prevent mold and to check the other pipes. When I heard the fire engines finally arrive outside, I stepped inside my room, closed the door behind me, removed my wet sweater, and hung it on the bathroom door to let it dry. My suede boots were ruined. My mom was going to be choked. I struggled to kick them off, then pushed the sopping skirt over my hips and down my thighs. I managed to inch it only as far as my knees when the door opened.

“Your grandpa wants you to —” Trevor stopped mid-sentence, still holding on to the doorknob. I froze mid-shimmy in an awkward semi-bent-over-knock-kneed stance. He stared at me for a second and grinned. I couldn’t move. Eventually, he blinked and shook his head, as if he were trying to wake himself up. “Sorry. I was. I didn’t know you were changing. Sorry. I should have knocked.” He spun around until his back faced me. “Your grandpa wants you to do damage control with the guests. When you’re finished changing.”

He chuckled before he closed the door behind him. It was hard to tell if it was a Ha ha, you look like such a dork chuckle, an Oh my God, I’m so embarrassed chuckle, or a Wow, Derian’s not a little tomboyish girl anymore chuckle. I glanced down at my worn baby-pink bra and plain white cotton Jockeys. Boring and mismatched. I groaned when I realized it was a Ha ha, you look like such a dork chuckle.

I flopped back on my bed and stared at the ceiling. As I lay there, a much bigger problem than the inadvertent peep show occurred to me. My granddad had asked me in July to mail the cheque to renew the insurance on the Inn. I couldn’t remember doing it. I bolted up, panicked.

After I changed into dry clothes, I rushed to the front desk and rifled through the outgoing mail. The envelope wasn’t there. I was relieved for a second until I remembered I had put it in my bag several weeks earlier to take it to the mailbox. I honestly couldn’t remember actually dropping it into the mailbox, but it wasn’t in my bag either. The company would have contacted us if it hadn’t been received, right? I collected the mail every day and hadn’t noticed any overdue notices. I bit at my fingernails, trying to visualize myself dropping it in the mailbox. I couldn’t remember, so I tried to convince myself I must have mailed it because it wasn’t in my bag, and they hadn’t contacted us. The convincing wasn’t working. My phone buzzed with a text from Sophie:

I heard Trevor and Murphy are having a Search and Rescue Party in Britannia tonight. You better get your ass next door and practice getting your flirt on.

Trevor saw me in my ginch. Too embarrassed to be anywhere near him.

I’m sure he was fine with the free show.

Doubt it. Old bra. Boy shorts. Soaking wet. Possibly see-through.

Wet? WTF?

Pipe burst. Inn flooded. Might have forgotten to renew the insurance for my GD. Can’t remember mailing the cheque. Might be royally screwed. Long story.

CHAPTER SIX

I called the insurance company, but they wouldn’t talk to me because my name wasn’t on the policy. After a long, sleepless night, I broke down and told my granddad that I potentially screwed up badly. He called the adjustor in a panic. Fortunately, the company confirmed that the cheque had been received, so I relaxed about everything. Other than the fact that the corporate retreat booking asked for their money back, things seemed to be working out fine.

Trevor’s dad lined up all the different trades to come in to do the repairs and renovations. Most of the plumbers, electricians, and framers were guys who volunteered for him at Search and Rescue. Only the plumbing had been worked on by the end of the week, though, because for the first four days, the industrial fans were set up day and night to dry out everything behind the plaster. I hadn’t really slept much since it happened.

Since the guys all helped with the cleanup after the flood, the barbecue at Trevor’s house had basically turned into a bunch of guys sitting around a bonfire drinking beer and eating hamburgers at midnight. I didn’t go because I would have been the only female and I needed to be up early to make breakfast for the few remaining guests. On the bright side, the flood meant that the meeting with the real-estate agent had to be postponed, indefinitely.

On Saturday, after working a long shift at the front desk while my granddad ran errands, I got dressed in jeans and a white sleeveless top. Sophie had come over on Friday night to help me pick out the outfit and straighten my hair. She was definitely more excited about my pseudo-date with Steve than I was. Nervous was a better word to describe what I was.

At eight o’clock, I grabbed my purse and a cardigan and headed down the hall. The plywood sheets that acted as temporary floorboards bounced under each of my footsteps. When I pushed aside the plastic sheeting Jim had hung to keep the renovation dust contained to the first-floor hallway, I saw Trevor leaning his elbows on the lobby desk, dressed for the party in black jeans, a black T-shirt, and motorcycle boots. He smiled and stood up straight when I walked in. “Hey. Do you need a ride?”

“Uh, Steve is picking me up. Thanks anyway.”

He narrowed his eyes, feigning a parental-type serious lecture face, which was obviously why he came by. “Steve Rawlings—the younger brother of Giselle Rawlings, third-string tennis player, and student council nerd—no offence.”

I shot him an irritated glare to make it clear I wasn’t in the mood for his ribbing, and he could spare me the impending lecture.

“You’ll be happy to know I couldn’t find any dirt on him. I tried, but he’s squeaky clean.”

“You didn’t seriously ask around, did you?”

“Yeah, I did.”

I shoved his shoulder as I walked past him. “You’re not my brother. Stop acting like you are.”

He seemed offended that I didn’t appreciate his surveillance work and his tone changed. “I’m just making sure you’re safe.”

I stopped and spun around. “You’re going to be at the party with us, remember? How much safer can I be?”

He smirked. “Well, unless you want me to tag along on all your dates, he’d better be a nice guy who treats you right.”

My own dad wouldn’t have even been so nosey. Trevor was only two years older than me, and I didn’t appreciate his attitude. With a snarky tone that I usually only reserved for my mom, I said, “Why don’t you worry about your own life and leave me out of it? Thanks anyway.” At first I felt guilty for being rude, but after he grinned at me in a self-satisfied way, I stormed out. Fortunately, Steve had already arrived in a white Ford Explorer. He hopped out and met me at the passenger-side door. I waited for him to open the door, but he didn’t move.

He looked confused. “Doesn’t your dad want to meet me first?”

“My dad’s dead,” I said, way too abruptly because I was still flustered by Trevor’s meddling. Once I heard my own words, tears built up along my eyelashes. “Shit.” I bit my lip to try to prevent the downpour.

Steve’s face drained of all colour and his weight shifted as if he might fall down. “I’m so sorry, I can’t believe I said that. I knew your dad was—I mean, I know that’s why you were gone for a year. I blanked. I’m such an idiot. Sorry,” he murmured. “Does your mom want to meet me?”

I grimaced and blinked slowly, which made the tears drip over the edge of my eyelashes. “My mom doesn’t live with me. She’s still in Vancouver.”

Beads of sweat formed on his forehead. He pressed his lips together as if he didn’t want to say anything else that might make things even worse. I turned my head to look back at Trevor. He was about five feet away and obviously heard the whole thing. As soon as he saw I was crying, he walked over, wrapped his arms around me, and pulled my head into his chest. His protectiveness made me cry harder. He hugged me for a while, then leaned his head down to whisper, “Your grandpa will want to meet your date. I’ll go get him.”

Trevor went back into the Inn and I wiped my palms across my cheeks. “Sorry,” I sputtered.

“No, I’m sorry,” Steve said quickly. “I don’t know what I was thinking. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

The new Derian wasn’t supposed to break down in tears every time someone mentioned her dad. First attempt didn’t go that well.

My granddad rushed out the front door of the Inn and waved his arms around eagerly. “Here I am. Let’s meet this young man who’s taking Derian to a party.”

I had to smile a little because my granddad looked cute with his white wispy hair flipping up on top of his head as he hustled to greet Steve. They shook hands and Steve answered a few questions. Trevor stood near the Inn door and gave me a look to see if I was okay. I mustered a smile and mouthed, Thank you.