I stood in the corner of the bookstore with a glass of punch. Mom sat at a table, signing books and talking to various people as they walked up to her. She smiled as a woman complimented her, and my heart soared. I hope that's me one day. I hope I can write a book that impacts someone.

I should be writing right now, I think. My fingers are itching to type on my keyboard, even if it's just rubbish. I couldn't let mom know I was gonna have a hard time balancing it all, and I most certainly wasn't going to admit to her that I needed help. I thought of a really rough plot on my way home the tea and had rushed to type it all down before I forgot. A story about a girl, who's spent her whole life living on a boat with her dad, when suddenly, her mom joins the picture, suddenly, she's thrown into a world of high tea and debutantes in a society where no one is like her. It's a story about family, self-discovery and, of course, first love. The love interest is the only part I haven't figured out yet...

The thing is, while I'm learning about Debs now, slowly, like the main character will. I know nothing about sailing or boats. How am I supposed to write a story about a girl who lives on the water, when I haven't stepped foot on a boat.

"What's going on up there, beautiful girl?" Susannah walked over to me, tapping her finger against my temple. When I was a kid, I used to space out a lot. Before I started writing plots down, my mind was jumbled with plots and characters. Susannah used to do this all the time. She loved hearing about my stories, even if they weren't fully developed yet.

"Just thinking," I shrug, taking a sip of punch, "I know what I want to write. It turns out the debutantes were inspiring."

"That's great," Susannah nodded, genuinely happy for me.

"It is," I agree with her, "it's just, I want the girl to live on the water, with her father who sails.... and I'm lost, I don't know the first thing about sailing."

Susannah hums, frowning. Before she can say anything, a man walks up, "Sorry to interrupt, but I couldn't help but overhear... you're a writer?"

"Cleveland, this in Florence. Laurel's oldest daughter." Susannah introduces, "Flo, this is Cleveland Castillo. He's-"

"An author," I cut Susannah off, his name clicking in my braid, "Mr. Castillo, it's an honour to meet you. Western Sky isn't my typical genre, but I loved it so much. What are you doing in Cousins? Are you writing a book about here?"

He chuckles at my enthusiasm, nodding his head, "trying to. I overheard your predicament, and I think I might be able to help..."

"Really?" I asked him. Getting help on my novel from Cleveland Castillo would be huge. If he helped, I could win.

"Yeah, uh, I'm writing about sailing too, and your mom found someone to help me learn," He explains, nodding over to mom, who's signing a book for someone, "you could tag along if you want. I'm sure the boy helping me wouldn't mind."

"Seriously?" I ask him, hopeful. He nods, "that would be amazing. Thank you so much, Mr. Castillo."

"Of course. Us writers got to stick together, right?" He smiles at me; it felt odd hearing an actual writer say that. Not even mom has read my stuff. I've always been too scared to hear what she thought of them, "and please, call me Cleveland."

He shoots me one last friendly smile and nods before walking away, and I turn to Susannah, "looks like everything is turning up, Florence," she nudges me, "just promise me you'll let me read this one."

She looks desperate, a look I'm not used to seeing on Susannah. Like she means her request, she really wants to read it, "okay," I nod, smiling at her. My phone beeps in my pocket, and I smile apologetically at Susannah before pulling it out, "it's my date." I tell her. Both Belly and I got ready together, with Susannah, who was more than happy to pick out our outfits. I know she loves stuff like this, especially since she doesn't have daughters of her own. Belly left before the book party, and even though I was bored, I'm glad I didn't. "He's gonna be here in ten."

"Okay," She nods, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, "have fun, sweet girl."

I walk over to the couch, where all three boys are sitting, slouching and clearly bored out of their minds, "you guys look like you're having fun," I kick Jeremiah's foot with my own.

"We're gonna head out soon," Steve says, not looking up from his phone screen, "you wanna tag along?"

"I would, but my date's picking me up," I answer, checking my phone to see if he's here.

"Date?" The word slips past Conrad's lips. He's obviously a little bit tipsy. Otherwise, I think he would have averted his gaze and pretended I wasn't here.

"Who's the unlucky guy?" Jeremiah asks, smirking at me teasingly.

"His name's Tripp," I answer, rolling my eyes at the Jeremiah wiggling his eyebrows at me, "You might know him. He works at the club?" Before any of the boys can answer, my phone dings, "that's him. I'll see you guys at home?"

"Have fun," Steven calls out as I walk to the door, cupping his hands over his mouth so his voice projects across the shop.

Finishing his sentence, Jeremiah yells, too, "but not too much fun."

I shoot them a glare before looking over to Conrad. I guess I shouldn't be shocked. He's not teasing me and smiling like the two idiots beside him, but he looks moodier than normal. He seems almost upset. His eyes find mine, and I expect him to turn away and pretend like it never happened, but he doesn't.

Don't let him ruin this, Florence. I tell myself, forcing myself to tear my gaze away, turning around to walk out the doors. Tripp is parked out front when I walk out in a sleek, black sports car that looks way more expensive than the little car that Steven, myself, and soon-to-be Belly all share. "Hey, beautiful," He leans over, opening the passenger door for me. "you ready to go?"

☀️

Tripp took me to the mini-putting place by the beach. Christmas lights were hung everywhere, illuminating our view, and little kids ran around, squealing excitedly whenever they got their golf ball in the hole. We stood in line behind the counter, where a couple of other people were ahead of us, "So, you've graduated?" I ask Tripp, breaking the silence between the two of us. He'd spent the entire car ride going on about his car and the latest repair he'd gotten done to it. "Are you planning on going to college... or?"

"No college," he shakes his head at me, "I've never seen myself as the type of guy who works for the rest of his life, you know? I'd much rather see where life takes me."

I didn't know, mostly because I've had my life meticulously planned out for as long as I can remember and as fun as it sounds to never work a day in my life, I didn't have the family money the way other kids in Cousins did. So I have to work, "what about the country club?" I asked him, referring to the job he's currently working at.

He groans, running his hands through his ridiculously soft-looking hair, "my dad's forcing me to work this summer. Can you believe him? I crashed his car once, and he's making me work to pay it off... ridiculous."

"Oh," is all I could think to say, nodding my head, "that's uh..." Understandable, I think, if I crashed mom's car, she'd freak, I'd be working 24/7 to pay it off, "unfortunate."

"Tell me about it," He rolls his eyes, "so what about you? Are you going to school?"

"I'm taking a gap semester, but yeah," I nod, moving forward as the line moved, "I'm going for Journalism, but my hope is to be a writer."

"Oh, nice," He nods, though he's not looking at me. I follow Tripp's gaze to the girl in front of us. She's on a date too, it seems, and my date's eyes linger on her legs, "how hard can it be to hand out golf balls and clubs," He sighs loudly, purposely catching the attention of the young girl behind the counter, she looked younger than Belly, scrambling to sort everyone out.

"It's really busy," I say to him, shooting the young girl an apologetic look. I expect Tripp to say something else, but he pulls his phone out of his pocket, typing away at the screen.

After a few more minutes, we make it to the counter, where the frantic young girl is, "Hi, sorry about the wait," She apologizes, ducking her head, "it's my first day."

"Cool story," Tripp says, uninterested, "can we have our stuff now?"

"Oh," She says, blinking at him in shock, "yes. Of course, sorry." She grabs to golf clubs and balls, passing them over the counter to us, "that'll be 15.50$. "

"My dad froze my credit card," Tripp turns to look at me, an expectant look on his face.

I don't mind paying for things. I've gone on plenty of dates where we've each paid our own way, but never in my life has a guy expected me to pay without asking, "Okay." I can keep my composure, pursing my lips. I dig through my purse, pulling a twenty-dollar bill out, "you can keep the change," I tell the girl behind the counter, shooting her a friendly smile.

"Are you sure?" She asks me, shocked. I nod, and she smiles, showing off the braces lining her teeth, "thank you."

"Are you ready?" Tripp asks me impatiently.

I nod, shooting the girl a small wave before saying, "have a good night."

"Do you know that girl?" Trip asks, placing his bright red golf ball on the ground at the first hole. I shake my head, "why were you being so nice to her when she was extremely unhelpful?"

"She seemed like she was having a rough night," I shrug as he hits his ball. I note that his feet are facing the wrong way, his hands holding the club wrong. He was never going to get a good putt with that form.

I move to where Tripp was standing seconds ago, placing my ball on the ground, "here, let me help you?" He offers, moving to stand beside me. I tense up as his hands touch my own, his back pressed into mine.

His hands were freezing cold, and his hands were impossibly soft like he's never done any sort of physical labour in his life. I can't help but compare them to the hands that stroked my cheek last night. Conrad's hands were soft and warm, with callouses from playing football, "Uh, I'm actually okay," I stepped away, forcing the thoughts of Conrad out of my mind. "My sister and I used to mini putt every weekend."

He looks offended like I'd just said something insulting, "whatever," he says, gesturing for me to go. As I shoot the ball, he pulls his phone out again, texting. We do a few more rounds, Tripp placing his hand on the small of my back as he leads me around.

He talks about himself for a long time. He complained about his parents cancelling his credit card, all because he threw a party while watching his little sister. By the time we get to the third hole, I decide he's unattractive. The more he talks, the more I want to make up some lame excuse and leave. Each time he laughs, it becomes more arrogant and less attractive than it had sounded yesterday.

Tripp Hale is the definition of a spoiled rich boy, too arrogant to notice his own privilege. He's the type of guy in novels that the girl goes out with before meeting the love of her life, the douchey boy who makes you want to slam the book shut out of annoyance.

Tripp only stops talking when a hot pink golf ball shoots past us, nearly hitting him in the head, "Four!" A familiar voice yells, laughing.

My head snaps back in their direction, my eyes spotting Jeremiah's curly hair before I see them. Standing three holes behind us is my brother, Jeremiah and Conrad. The younger two waves at me while Conrad shoves his hands in his pocket, his eyes glancing between Tripp and me.

What the hell are they doing here?

Okay, so she is getting help from Cleveland and little does she know, Conrad's the sailing expert helping her out...
Also, Tripps the worst and her dates been crashed. Y'all are not ready for the next chapter.