Read Online Last Summer by Hailey Abbott - Free Book Online
Authors: Hailey Abbott
Tags: Fiction
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choice but to suck it up and go complain to her boyfriend about Taryn, the Interloping Tote Bag.
7
“I don’t know if you know this about me,” George said in an overly loud, dramatic voice that attracted the attention of the nicely dressed family of four ahead of them. They were taking, in Beth’s opinion, far too much time trying to sink their golf balls into the concrete clown face.
“Why are you yelling?” Beth asked mildly, swinging her mini golf club. She smiled sweetly at the family of four, as if she, too, was baffled by George and his volume.
“I don’t know if you know this,” George repeated in a fractionally lower voice, “but this past year has stripped me of my charming veneer.”
“Yeah?” She started to say what charming veneer? but thought better of it. They were trying to be friends, after all.
“At any second, I might unleash the inner demon on that family. I’m just letting you know.”
Beth eyed him. “Thanks for the heads-up.”
“My pleasure.”
Idiot, Beth thought. But it was a fond sort of thought. So far the whole friends thing was going okay. It was almost like old, old times.
It was a sunny, breezy summer day—far too beautiful to waste back in the cabins. Beth turned her head so she could see across the mini golf course to the stretch of ocean on the other side of the street.
Beth sometimes wondered what the ridiculous Circus-themed golf course must look like from out in the water, particularly at night when she knew the clown’s face, for example, was so hideously lit that it looked creepy and alive. She didn’t think she’d ever taken a trip this far up the coast at night. Or maybe she had and had forgotten to look when she was out there enjoying the crisp sea air and the roll of the waves. She wondered if it was possible to see the dancing bears or the truly disturbing clown from out there. The fact that she had no memory of even noticing the mini golf course from the water indicated that probably there was nothing to see. For some reason, Beth found that a little bit depressing.
The family finally vacated the hole, and George stepped into place.
“I’m glad we’re not together anymore, Beth,” Georgeannounced, smacking his golf ball with a clean, neat stroke and sending it directly into the clown’s horrible grinning mouth. It looked like something out of Stephen King. Beth shuddered.
“Because you completely choked on that last hole,” George continued with unmistakable glee in his voice, “and as your friend, I can be delighted about it.”
“I’m glad we’re broken up, too,” Beth retorted. “Since we’re no longer dating, I don’t have to let you win.”
George gasped in fake shock, and Beth hid her answering smile. Then she concentrated on making her shot, because she knew she’d never hear the end of it if she didn’t.
And also because she was Beth Tuttle and—she could admit it—she hated to lose. She had the usual athlete’s approach to any and all competitions. And admitting she had a problem was the first step, she thought with a smirk.
“You have never in your life let me do anything!” George was protesting.
Beth tuned him out, a skill she hadn’t lost in the months since they’d last spent time together.
And then she made her shot. One stroke. Clean and neat. Perfect.
She whooped with joy and jumped into the air.
“In your face!” she cried at him. “So much for being the Tiger Woods of mini golf!”
“That was luck,” George complained. “Total luck. I am way better than you at mini golf. Our entire history proves it. This was luck!”
“Call it whatever you want,” Beth said, and let herself swagger a little bit as she headed off the mini golf course toward the new, improved complex, which now included a bowling alley and arcade. For all your Pebble Beach recreational needs.
She was glad George had called a few days ago, and suggested this outing, she thought as she made her way out of the complex. It
7
“I don’t know if you know this about me,” George said in an overly loud, dramatic voice that attracted the attention of the nicely dressed family of four ahead of them. They were taking, in Beth’s opinion, far too much time trying to sink their golf balls into the concrete clown face.
“Why are you yelling?” Beth asked mildly, swinging her mini golf club. She smiled sweetly at the family of four, as if she, too, was baffled by George and his volume.
“I don’t know if you know this,” George repeated in a fractionally lower voice, “but this past year has stripped me of my charming veneer.”
“Yeah?” She started to say what charming veneer? but thought better of it. They were trying to be friends, after all.
“At any second, I might unleash the inner demon on that family. I’m just letting you know.”
Beth eyed him. “Thanks for the heads-up.”
“My pleasure.”
Idiot, Beth thought. But it was a fond sort of thought. So far the whole friends thing was going okay. It was almost like old, old times.
It was a sunny, breezy summer day—far too beautiful to waste back in the cabins. Beth turned her head so she could see across the mini golf course to the stretch of ocean on the other side of the street.
Beth sometimes wondered what the ridiculous Circus-themed golf course must look like from out in the water, particularly at night when she knew the clown’s face, for example, was so hideously lit that it looked creepy and alive. She didn’t think she’d ever taken a trip this far up the coast at night. Or maybe she had and had forgotten to look when she was out there enjoying the crisp sea air and the roll of the waves. She wondered if it was possible to see the dancing bears or the truly disturbing clown from out there. The fact that she had no memory of even noticing the mini golf course from the water indicated that probably there was nothing to see. For some reason, Beth found that a little bit depressing.
The family finally vacated the hole, and George stepped into place.
“I’m glad we’re not together anymore, Beth,” Georgeannounced, smacking his golf ball with a clean, neat stroke and sending it directly into the clown’s horrible grinning mouth. It looked like something out of Stephen King. Beth shuddered.
“Because you completely choked on that last hole,” George continued with unmistakable glee in his voice, “and as your friend, I can be delighted about it.”
“I’m glad we’re broken up, too,” Beth retorted. “Since we’re no longer dating, I don’t have to let you win.”
George gasped in fake shock, and Beth hid her answering smile. Then she concentrated on making her shot, because she knew she’d never hear the end of it if she didn’t.
And also because she was Beth Tuttle and—she could admit it—she hated to lose. She had the usual athlete’s approach to any and all competitions. And admitting she had a problem was the first step, she thought with a smirk.
“You have never in your life let me do anything!” George was protesting.
Beth tuned him out, a skill she hadn’t lost in the months since they’d last spent time together.
And then she made her shot. One stroke. Clean and neat. Perfect.
She whooped with joy and jumped into the air.
“In your face!” she cried at him. “So much for being the Tiger Woods of mini golf!”
“That was luck,” George complained. “Total luck. I am way better than you at mini golf. Our entire history proves it. This was luck!”
“Call it whatever you want,” Beth said, and let herself swagger a little bit as she headed off the mini golf course toward the new, improved complex, which now included a bowling alley and arcade. For all your Pebble Beach recreational needs.
She was glad George had called a few days ago, and suggested this outing, she thought as she made her way out of the complex. It
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