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Put It Out There
D. R. Graham
The first book in the Britannia Beach series, perfect for fans of Katie McGarry.‘Did you miss me?’Returning home to Britannia Beach a year after her life was shattered is bittersweet for Derian Lafleur. Although some things settle back into place, others don’t click like they used to…especially her friendship with Trevor Maverty.Derian suddenly wishes the boy next door would see her as more than just a kid sister type. She tries to be everything she thinks he’s looking for— bolder, more experienced – but is that who she wants to be?With the fate of her family’s historic inn on the line and Trevor making life more complicated by the day, Derian struggles to manage her unexpected feelings, and deal with a past she’s not quite ready to leave behind.



Put It Out There
Britannia Beach
D.R. GRAHAM


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HarperCollinsPublishers
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First published in Great Britain by HarperImpulse 2016
Copyright © D.R. Graham 2016
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Cover design © Books Covered
D.R. Graham asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
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Ebook Edition © June 2016 ISBN: 9780008145163
Version 2016-06-02
For Morgan
Table of Contents
Cover (#u9c6a40cf-d8ba-5600-9d5b-3912402e5c6e)
Title Page (#u3e997ed5-0c0f-5267-a4f5-4edfc65b2ab3)
Copyright (#uc1cadb10-82ef-5365-b8e8-23438dfd972c)
Dedication (#ua9715059-a2f8-5bb0-ad94-b0e1d189cfcf)
Chapter One (#u1cb049af-9f1e-5cdd-a538-056df17f3d95)
Chapter Two (#ua89f2e7b-2aef-5949-b8c2-1663d4a6dc68)
Chapter Three (#u0c223790-9ada-5849-9711-146902fd7bf9)
Chapter Four (#u1b5016e6-51f1-5495-84e9-4b46bbc8b228)
Chapter Five (#ue43354b1-adeb-51cd-b76d-fc85cbd3506c)

Chapter Six (#uf0916e1d-163d-5121-b64d-960125bbd688)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-One (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-Two (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-Three (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-Four (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-Five (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Keep Reading … (#litres_trial_promo)

Acknowledgements (#litres_trial_promo)

About the Author (#litres_trial_promo)

Also by D.R. Graham (#litres_trial_promo)

About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)

About HarperImpulse (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER ONE (#u8c3f3cfc-b1c5-5637-86f0-ec5b35ac3220)
Summer was officially over, and even though all the families who spent their vacation at the Inn had packed up and gone home, the dining room was crowded for our famous homemade breakfast buffet. Thirty-six guests, all excited for a week-long wilderness retreat. It was our first corporate booking, and I was feeling pretty impressed with myself, since they found us through the new Britannia Beach Inn website I developed for my granddad. He originally hadn’t wanted the Inn to have an online presence because he didn’t have the staff to handle more guests. We needed the extra revenue to afford repairs on the hundred-and-thirty-year-old building, though. When I made the decision to move back to Britannia and promised to help out before and after school, he finally gave me the go-ahead.
Fully aware of how late it was getting, I sped to restock the pastry basket with warm cinnamon buns and poured fresh-brewed coffee for a table of non-outdoorsy-looking women, decked out in expensive hiking gear. It was already seven-thirty. The only bus from Britannia Beach to Squamish in the morning stopped in front of the Inn at seven forty-two. I needed to catch it if I wanted to make it to school. As I rushed to clear another stack of dirty dishes from a table, my granddad stepped up to the buffet table and scooped fresh scrambled eggs into a warming tray. “You better get going, sweetheart. You don’t want to miss the bus.”
“You mean, you don’t want me to miss the bus.”
He chuckled. “True. I am a little too busy to drive you into Squamish today.”
I kissed his cheek and removed my apron. “I’m going.”
“Don’t forget the meeting with the real-estate agent is at five o’clock today if you want to be here.”
“Oh.” I stopped and spun around, surprised. “I thought you were going to cancel that.”
As he stirred the pot of oatmeal with more attention than it needed, he glanced up to gauge my reaction, which he likely knew wasn’t going to be supportive. “I want to hear what he has to say.”
“Why? If I can keep attracting corporate retreat bookings, you’ll start making a profit again.”
“That’s a big if, Derian. I appreciate all the work you’ve done on the website, and I couldn’t have run things around here all summer if you hadn’t moved back, but you only have two more years of high school. I need to plan for when you leave for university. There’s no harm in hearing what he has to say.”
No harm? Except that living with my mom in Vancouver had been a disaster, and I had nowhere else to live, and selling the only place that still held good memories of my dad was something I couldn’t deal with on top of all that. “What if it gets bought by a company that just tears it down and redevelops the entire village?”
“There might be a buyer who will renovate the Inn and keep the heritage houses in the village.”
I glanced at the yellowed antique clock again. I needed to leave, but I also desperately wanted to talk him out of the meeting before I left. “We can renovate it just as easily as someone else.”
He sighed and seemed hesitant to break it to me, “It’s too expensive.”
I swept my arm through the air for emphasis. “Look at how busy we are. Our corporate retreat clients will generate extra income in the off season.”
“This is the one and only corporate booking we’ve had. We have to explore our options. Sorry, sweetheart.” He turned, holding the empty pancake tray, and retreated into the kitchen.
He was right, but I wished he wasn’t. Deflated, I turned and headed through the lobby. My bedroom was on the first floor at the end of the hall. I zig-zagged past the guest rooms, trying to avoid the floorboards that creaked—not that it mattered since my door squeaked loudly enough to be heard back in the dining room.
To be perfectly honest, my bedroom was one of the many rooms that needed to be renovated, or torn down. Only one of the outlets worked, the window didn’t stay open without something propping it up, and the wallpaper was faded and curled at the seams. My bathroom was in even worse shape than my bedroom. The toilet handle didn’t work and could only be flushed by pulling on the rusted chain. The tiles on the wall occasionally fell off the plaster and smashed into the rusted claw-foot tub. And the hot water was only hot about thirty percent of the time. Everything was the same as it had been when my mom was growing up. It was hard to imagine it any other way. But when I actually took notice, it was kind of impossible to ignore the fact that it was run down.
Trying to forget about the potential sale, I scrubbed my face and brushed my teeth. Unfortunately, my hair had to stay hanging boringly down my back in waves since there wasn’t enough time to straighten it. After tossing my yoga pants and Britannia Beach Inn polo shirt into the hamper, I dressed in a skirt, sweater and boots, and grabbed my canvas school bag. Without pausing to look in the mirror, I left out of the side emergency exit door next to my bedroom and jogged across the parking lot towards the highway and the bus stop.
Before I reached the shoulder of the highway, the bus blew by. I raced along the gravel, arms waving. But the driver didn’t see me, or didn’t care.
“Great,” I mumbled. There was nobody to cover for my granddad during the time it would take to drive me into town. School wasn’t going to happen. Not a good start to starting over. Maybe there was no point in going back, period. If the Inn went up for sale, it didn’t make sense to go back to school after a year away, only to move again.
My eighteen-year-old next-door neighbour Trevor stepped off his porch and leaned against the side of his 4Runner, watching my mopey walk with an amused look on his face. We hadn’t seen each other since the end of June because he’d been away travelling in South America on a motorbike all summer. He looked extra rugged, but still like himself in his standard white T-shirt and dark jeans. “Need a ride?”
I honestly wanted to go back to my room and curl up under the covers. My granddad would probably insist on leaving the guests unattended and driving me himself, though, so I said, “Yeah, I guess so.” I walked across the lot to where he was parked and reached up to hug him. “Welcome home.”
“You too.” He squeezed his arms and wrapped me in a warmth that did feel like home, but it reminded me that Britannia Beach might not be my home for long. I stepped back and tucked my hair behind my ears as I glanced at our tiny old mining village—twelve heritage houses, a small diner, a church, and a couple of tourist shops—backed up against the base of the forested mountain and across the highway from the beach. It was quaint, but old and easy to miss.
Not wanting to think about the fate of the village, I focused back on the immediate problem. “I don’t want you to make a special trip into town just for me. Were you headed into Squamish anyway?”
“Yup. I picked up a shift at the docks. And Kailyn needs a ride to her program.” He reached over to take my school bag and placed it in the back of the truck.
“Thank you. My granddad thanks you, too.”
“No problem.”
“How was your motorcycle trip?”
He eyed my outfit with an expression that was difficult to read. A skirt and boots were a change for me compared to the tomboyish ponytail, jeans, and bulky sweaters I normally wore. I wanted to make a statement at school that I wasn’t the same quiet, boring Derian they had known before I moved away. Based on Trevor’s reaction, it wasn’t producing the statement I had hoped for. “The trip was good,” he finally answered.
“Why are you looking at me funny?”
“I’m not. You look nice,” he said, but it sounded more like he was just being polite.
I ran my hand down the side of the beige skirt my mom bought during one of her attempts to make me more urban chic. “Do you think the skirt’s too short?”
He grinned as if I’d cracked a joke.
Embarrassed that he thought my attempt to reinvent myself was humorous, I mumbled, “Never mind,” then changed the subject. “I didn’t know you were back. You could have come over for breakfast.”
“I was going to, but we got home late last night. The jet lag made me sleep through my alarm.”
I nodded, distracted by the years of memories of our families eating breakfast together at the Inn. Growing up, Trevor and I used to always play together, but after he went to high school, the only time we ever really hung out was with our dads and his sister at breakfast. We hadn’t eaten breakfast together since before my dad’s accident, and I suddenly realized how much I missed it—another one of the many things that came to an abrupt end when my dad died.
As if Trevor could read my mind, he reached over with one arm and hugged me into his chest. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. He knew how close I had been to my dad, and he knew how my world imploded after the accident. Although his familiarity was comforting, I stepped back to end the hug. My grief was surfacing, and I didn’t want it to. Everyone at school knew why I had moved away for a year. The stares and whispers were going to be hard enough to face without also being an emotional wreck at the same time.
Trevor checked my expression to make sure I was okay, then shoved my shoulder in a playful way to get me to smile. “You can make me breakfast tomorrow. Kiki, let’s get a move on,” he called back towards the house at his sister. She was born with Down syndrome and, although she was older than him, Trevor had been helping to take care of her since their mom took off. He opened the front passenger door for me as Kailyn stepped out onto the porch of their house and locked the door with the key she wore around her neck. “Are you getting in?” Trevor asked me.
“Kailyn likes the front seat. I’ll sit in the back.”
He stepped forward and opened the back door for me before he walked around and hopped into the driver’s seat. Kailyn climbed into the front passenger seat and slammed the door. She clicked her seatbelt on, tucked her straight blonde bob behind her ears, and opened one of the pre-teen magazines she was crazy about, even though she was nineteen. Her freshly applied lip balm made the air smell like the Strawberry Shortcake doll I played with when I was little.
“Hi, Kailyn,” I said as Trevor pulled out of the Inn’s parking lot and turned north on the Sea-to-Sky highway to head to Squamish.
Kailyn didn’t say hi back, but she asked without looking up from the magazine, “Did you know that Austin Sullivan’s favourite thing to eat is Hawaiian pizza? And his birthday is on April seventeenth?”
“No. I don’t even know who Austin Sullivan is,” I answered, never really that up on trends.
“Gah!” She slammed the magazine down in her lap exaggeratedly. “Deri. You’re so silly. Everyone knows who Austin Sullivan is. He sings the song that goes, ‘When I see your eyes, eyes, eyes, I want to cry, cry, cry.’ You know.” She sang in her husky monotone voice. I didn’t recognize the song at all.
Trevor looked over his shoulder at me and smiled because my face obviously showed my utter ignorance of pop culture. He joined in and sang the lyrics with Kailyn. “Recognize it now?” he asked me with a wink.
“No. Let me see his picture. Maybe I’ll recognize him.” I leaned forward to peek over Kailyn’s shoulder. She showed me a magazine page with a collage of twenty different teen idols. I had no idea which one was him, so I said, “Oh yeah, he’s really cute.”
“He looks like my brother, don’t you think?”
“Really?” I sat forward. “Show me again. Which one is he?”
She held the magazine up and pointed to a ruggedly handsome outdoorsy-type guy who had dark hair and light eyes. He was on a farm, shirtless, with a cut chest and abs, leaning up against a wood fence. He did look like Trevor. I sat back in my seat and Kailyn grinned wide enough that her chubby, freckled cheeks made her eyes squint shut. “Deri thinks Austin Sullivan is really cute, and he looks just like you. That means she thinks you’re really cute. Did you know that?”
Trevor didn’t turn his head, but I could see his eyes in the rearview mirror. They darted for a second to look at me.
Kailyn turned in her seat to face me. “You and Trevor should get married one day,” she whispered loudly.
Right. As if that would ever happen. Trevor could have any girl he wanted, and the introverted tomboy next door wasn’t even on the list. He smiled—maybe because the idea of getting married to someone he thought of as a kid sister was ridiculous, or maybe because he couldn’t wait to tease me for saying a guy who looks like him is cute. Either way, the entire topic of conversation made me uncomfortable. Fortunately, one of Austin Sullivan’s songs came on the radio. Kailyn turned the radio up, and we drove along the winding highway without talking.
The road followed the coastline with the ocean on our left and the mountain rock faces to our right. It was one of the most pristine places on earth to live. I definitely didn’t want to have to leave it behind again. When we arrived at the community centre for adults with disabilities, Trevor turned the radio volume down and whistled through his teeth to break Kailyn’s attention from her magazine. “We’re here.”
She climbed out of the truck without saying thanks or goodbye and slammed the door. Her wide strides made her stocky body sway from side to side. After she disappeared inside the building, Trevor looked over his shoulder at me. I thought he was going to embarrass me for the Austin Sullivan comparison. Instead, he asked, “Aren’t you going to get in the front?”
“Oh yeah, right.” I jumped out of the truck and hopped into the front passenger seat.
As he pulled out of the community centre’s parking lot and headed back onto the highway, a bizarre image flicked through my mind: a girl’s head smashed against the ground, and her blonde hair turned red from the blood pooled on the floor.
Trevor glanced at me, concerned, as he waited for me to tell him what I saw. I didn’t want to. My meaningless intuition visions, inherited from grandmother’s grandmother, started when I was about three. Back then, I’d see things like a dish fall off the counter before it actually did, or I’d point to where the whales were going to breach long before they showed up. When I was little, I thought everyone could see things before they happened. I was shocked when Trevor told me he couldn’t. He used to play games with me to test if I could guess what card he was holding or what picture he drew, but I always failed. The intuition never worked on demand like that. It wasn’t something I could will. Instead, I would randomly show up at his house wearing my full snowsuit and toque and mitts, ready for the storm that wasn’t forecasted. He’d look up at the blue sky and bright sunshine, sceptical, but he trusted me enough to go back inside to put his snowsuit on too.
Being able to see things in advance started to bother me when I was about nine because the scattered visions and subtle senses began to only happen for upsetting things. I once had a dream the neighbour’s dog was going to get hit by a car, so I sat outside their yard all day to make sure he didn’t get out. I was really proud of myself for saving him until it happened a week later. It was frustrating to not know when it would happen, and I felt so guilty. When I was twelve, I had a vision that my grandmother got sick and died in the hospital. Three weeks after the vision, she was diagnosed with cancer. She died a year later.
After I saw my dad’s car accident happen, I attempted to block all my intuitions. I promised myself the new Derian would no longer have visions. Unfortunately, despite determined effort on my part, I couldn’t stop them.
“What did you see?” Trevor asked.
I should have known he wouldn’t let me off the hook. “Nothing. It was a headache.”
He frowned and focused on the road. “I’ve known you most of your life. I know what it means when you get that look on your face. You don’t have to pretend you don’t get premonitions. It’s me.”
“They aren’t premonitions. They’re useless images, like crazy dreams. It was nothing. Nothing that makes any sense.”
“They aren’t useless. Search and Rescue teams are helped by intuitive and clairvoyant people all the time. While I was in Peru, I met a woman who finds missing children. I told her about you. She recommended I read her book. She says people with natural intuition can practice and get better at it, just like any other skill. I brought it home for you to read.”
I opened my bag and dug through it, hoping there was something I could use as a distraction to avoid the conversation. There wasn’t anything. “Why would I want to get good at seeing traumatic things I can’t do anything about?”
“The better you get at it, the more likely it will be useful. Maybe you’ll save someone’s life someday.”
I slouched in the seat and crossed my arms over my chest, fixing my attention on the rock face next to the highway. “A lot of good it did my dad. I saw it happen in exact, excruciating detail and couldn’t prevent it. He still died.”
Trevor glanced at me with empathy in his eyes. “Your dad’s accident wasn’t your fault, Deri.”
I shrugged and fought to swallow down the emotion in my throat. “Either way, I want to practice not having intuition at all, not practice to get better at it.”
We drove in silence. He probably wanted to convince me my brain glitch was a huge asset, but fortunately he let it go. “How are you feeling about being back at school in Squamish?”
Thankful to talk about anything other than my flawed neurology, I said, “Excited and nervous, I guess. It will be awkward at first when they all try to be sensitive about my dad. Hopefully that won’t last long and everything goes back to normal.” As soon as I said it, I regretted using the word “normal”. My life was never going back to the way it was. It was never going to feel normal again. I exhaled, trying to steel myself for the day ahead.
“It’s going to be okay.”
In an attempt to lighten the mood, I joked, “Yeah. Anything is better than living with my mom.”
A deep crease etched between his eyebrows. “She’s not that bad,” he said quietly.
Before my dad died, my mom lived in our apartment in downtown Vancouver and only came up to Britannia on the weekends, which was great growing up. Living full-time with my dad at the Inn had worked perfectly since he and I were essentially the same person—nature-lovers, bookish, and artistic. The opposite of my mom. Since Trevor’s mom left them, he always thought I should appreciate the fact that I, at least, had a mom, even if she and I had nothing in common. My whole childhood, he had encouraged me to try harder to get along with her.
I knew I needed to get over my issues with my mom, especially after losing my dad. I just didn’t know how. After my dad died, my mom refused to drive on the highway between Vancouver and Britannia, where the accident happened. She acted like it was a panic attack thing, but I knew it was just her convenient excuse to never step foot in Britannia Beach again and to guilt me into moving to Vancouver.
I tried to make living with her work. I really did. I enrolled in the stuffy private school she had always wanted me to go to. I joined the clubs she thought would look good on my university applications. I attended the counselling sessions she insisted on, so I could “process my grief”. None of it made any difference. I missed my friends in Squamish, I missed my granddad, and most of all I missed Britannia Beach. My mom and I got on each other’s nerves. Her standards for everything were impossibly high, she worried so much it was suffocating, and I hated every minute of living in the loud, crowded city. Moving back to the Inn saved me. And I wasn’t sure I could survive losing it too.
Trevor and I didn’t talk for the rest of the drive, which was something I actually always appreciated about him. He was comfortable with quiet, like my dad. And like me. But his silence felt different, more serious. As if something had changed between us in the year I was gone. He didn’t even look at me again until we pulled up in front of my school and shifted into park.
Things still felt odd between us. I wasn’t sure how to handle it and ended up sounding awkwardly formal. “Thank you for the ride, Trevor. Have a good day.”
“I’ll be done work at four-thirty if you want a ride home.”
“Sure. I’ll meet you back here.”
After I stepped out and shut the door, the window rolled down.
“Hey.” He grinned with his chin tilted in a cocky way. “Do you really think I’m good-looking like that guy in Kailyn’s magazine?”
And there it was. We were back to normal. The teasing was going to be relentless. I shook my head and made a snarky face. “Don’t let it go to your gigantic head.”
“Too late.” He waved and drove away.
At least our relationship felt familiar and easy again. Which was good, since I had a feeling going back to my old school was going to be way harder than I had anticipated.

CHAPTER TWO (#u8c3f3cfc-b1c5-5637-86f0-ec5b35ac3220)
My best friend Sophie Sakamoto wasn’t hard to spot in her black-and-white-striped knee-high stockings, black micro-mini skirt, and fluorescent lime-green tank top. She lounged on the front steps of the school with her boyfriend and some of the guys from their band. Her boyfriend Doug was in grade twelve and they’d been dating for almost two years. They came down to Vancouver almost every weekend to hang out with me when I lived there, thankfully. The loneliness would have been unbearable if they hadn’t. Doug had shaved his dark faux-hawk into a buzz cut since I last saw him. It suited the dark-rimmed punk glasses he wore. Most people got the wrong impression about Doug because he was a musician who wore leather and had tattoos up his neck—well, maybe it wasn’t entirely the wrong impression.
“Hey, guys,” I said, loud enough for them to hear me, but quietly enough to not make a huge scene. At least, that was the goal. I should have known Sophie wouldn’t let my re-initiation to the school slide without a bit of a scene.
She shot up and squealed as she lunged over to hug me. “Oh my God. Welcome back. You are not allowed to leave me ever again. The boredom was torture.” She turned to the boys. “No offence.”
They all laughed, knowing full well it was intended to be an insult. She leaned back to check out my outfit. Normally, she was the one up on fashion, and I couldn’t have cared less. The suede boots were one of the expensive items my mom had bought for me while I was living with her.
“Damn, Derian, you look stylish.” She tickled my waist. “All we need now is to get you a boyfriend.”
I glared at her and whispered, “I’m happily single. Thanks. You want to keep your voice down a little? Please.”
“Why are you turning all red?” she teased. She was going to take it as far as she could, just to amuse herself. And maybe also to get back at me for leaving her alone for a whole year. “Hey, Doug,” Sophie called over to him. “You think Derian looks hot with her new look?”
Doug laughed. “Is that a trap?”
“Nope.”
To my horror, Doug and a couple of other guys on the steps all checked me out. Doug pushed his glasses up, studied my suede boots, then moved his gaze up my legs, over my skirt, paused for a second at my pink button-up sweater, and finished at my face. “Yup,” he said.
“Smokin’,” another guy added.
“See,” Sophie encouraged.
I turned sideways and folded my arms across my chest. “You can stop humiliating me. I’m sorry I left you for a year. It’s not like I wanted to.”
Her expression changed into sympathy before she hugged me again. “I understand why you didn’t come back last year. I’m not mad at you, and I wasn’t kidding. You look beautiful. But you’ve always been beautiful—even in worn yoga pants and muddy hiking boots.”
“Thank you.” I sighed and tugged down the hem of my skirt. It wasn’t about the clothes. The look was only supposed to be symbolic of a fresh new start. I thought a new image would help me move on and leave the pain of losing my dad in the past. I hadn’t done it to please my mom, or get attention, or pretend to be someone I wasn’t, but if it was going to seem like that, I would prefer for everyone to treat me like the old Derian and pretend like nothing had changed. The only problem was, everything had changed. And it had nothing to do with how I dressed.
Sophie slapped my hand to make me stop fidgeting. Then she gasped, dug her fingers into my arms, and spun me around. A guy I’d never seen before closed the driver’s door of a black Mercedes coupe. He ran his left hand through his caramel-coloured hair as he turned to look at the school. Then he lifted the tan leather strap of his bag over his head, adjusted it across his chest, and glanced at all the students milling around on the grass and the front steps. “Holy shit. Who is that?” Sophie whispered.
I didn’t respond. I just watched him. He walked smoothly and confidently for a few steps, then looked down at the ground for a step—as if what he was doing was the last thing he wanted to be doing. His grey trousers, light blue-grey shirt, and expensive-looking black dress shoes were not the typical look for our high school. His skin was tanned like he’d just gotten back from the south of France or something, and his shiny silver watch must have cost a fortune. When he got close enough that I could tell he was over six-feet tall, and his eyes were the most intoxicating shade of blue, he smiled. It was a shy smile. His chin was down, but he glanced up briefly before flashing his insanely white and perfectly straight teeth at Sophie.
She and I both stared at him as he continued towards the front door of the school and disappeared inside. “He’s beautiful.” Sophie sighed.
“And he smiled at you,” I whispered, as I checked to see if Doug was listening. He wasn’t paying attention.
“He didn’t smile at me, you geek.” Sophie smacked my arm with the back of her hand. “He smiled at you.”
“No, he didn’t.”
“Ya, he did. I’ll get the 411 on him for you.” She jiggled around excitedly.
“What? No. I don’t want you to do that.”
“Hi Derian,” a male voice interrupted us before I had a chance to axe her scheme.
I jumped a little because I hadn’t even noticed Steve Rawlings walk up. He was a friend who sat on student council with me the year before I left. He looked different. He’d grown about six inches and got his braces off. His hair was cut really short—probably because it was the first day of school. He was kind of a keener like that. He actually looked cute.
“Hi Steve.”
“Welcome back, Deri. Are you coming to peer mentoring?”
“Oh, I didn’t sign up to be a mentor.”
“I know, but I remembered you said you wanted to be a mentor in junior year. So, when I heard you were coming back, I signed you up. Hope that’s okay. Mr. Orton said he was going to send you an email. Sorry. He must have forgotten. I would have told you, but I don’t have your email or phone number. It’s cool if you have other things you need to do.”
“I did, I mean, I do want to be a mentor. Yeah, thanks.”
Sophie grabbed my elbow to hold me back. “She’ll be right with you,” she said to Steve, then whispered in my ear, “I’ll fill you in on the new guy by lunch.”
“What? No. Don’t embarrass me,” I hissed back.
She giggled in a maniacal way, held up two fingers in a peace sign, and moved to lean against Doug. Doug draped his arm over her shoulders and kissed her neck. There wasn’t any way to stop her once her mind was set on something, so I didn’t bother to protest more before I walked away.
“Do you want me to carry your bag?” Steve offered.
“Oh, it’s basically empty. But thanks for asking.”
He smiled in a nervous way that made me feel vicariously awkward.
It took a while, but I eventually came up with something to say to break the silence. “You grew a lot since I saw you last.”
His face winced slightly, maybe wishing I hadn’t reminded him he used to be smaller than me. “A bit.”
“And have you been working out or something?”
His cheeks definitely went red at that point, which wasn’t the effect I was going for. “I’ve been coaching tennis at the community centre.”
“Oh, I didn’t know you played.”
“I’ve been on the school tennis team since grade eight.” He looked a little hurt that I didn’t know.
“Right, I knew that,” I scrambled. Truthfully, football was the only sport I paid attention to since it was what Trevor had played in high school.
Steve chuckled, “I was on student council with you too. My name’s Steve. Do you at least remember that?”
I squished up my face and squinted exaggeratedly. “You look vaguely familiar,” I joked, and we walked into the students’ lounge, where the grade eights were all huddled around, chattering.
The chairs were set up in two rows facing each other. Our principal yelled for the mentors to sit along one side. Steve and I sat beside each other and talked as we waited for our buddies to be assigned. A tiny girl with strawberry curls sat down in the chair in front of Steve. She grinned shyly and her cheeks turned pink as if she thought Steve was one of the celebrities in Kailyn’s magazine.
“Hi. I’m Steve Rawlings.” He reached his arm out and shook her hand.
She scanned the room, as if she hoped her friends could see that she lucked out and got a hot guy as her mentor. My buddy was as small as the girl and even a little skinnier. He had dark hair and very pale skin. His eyes were hard to see because he wore wire-rimmed glasses, and he hadn’t looked up since he sat down.
“Hi. I’m Derian. What’s your name?”
He glanced up. His eyes were big and brown. He focused back down at his lap and said, with an adorable cartoon-pitched voice, “Nikolai.”
“Nice to meet you, Nikolai. Do you have any questions about high school so far?”
His head tilted up, but he didn’t speak.
“That’s what I’m here for. If you need anything at all, just ask me.”
He shook his head—not like he didn’t have any questions, more like he was too afraid to ask them.
“When I was in grade eight I wanted to know lots of things.” I pulled out the map from his student agenda and showed him where all the important things were. “This is where my locker is.” I marked it with a circle on the map. “If you need anything just come find me.”
He smiled a little and looked around nervously, as if he expected someone to spring on him or something. At that point, the principal shouted instructions again.
After we walked our buddies to their lockers and pointed them in the right direction for their first classes, I asked Steve, “Were we that cute in grade eight?”
“You were. I definitely wasn’t. What’s your first class?”
“Um,” I opened my binder and read my schedule. “English with Mrs. Tookey.”
“Kooky Tookey. Me too. May I have the honour of escorting you to class, Miss Lafleur?” He presented his arm so I could hook my arm around his elbow like a Jane Austen character.
“Certainly, my dear sir.”
We sat beside each other halfway down the aisle of desks in Mrs. Tookey’s classroom. She really was kooky. She breezed in with a trail of rainbow scarves twisting behind her. Her hair was clumped into long dirty-blonde dreads and tied into a ponytail with a red shoelace. It was a style that matched her long peasant skirt, Birkenstock sandals, and pink socks. I chuckled a little as she took in a deep breath and smiled at us lovingly. “Namaste,” she said.
The entire class stared at her, not sure how to respond.
She pressed her palms together in a prayer position and bowed. “All right, before we jump right into work I would like everyone to take a moment to set an intention for this year.”
Lisa Alvarez, who acted like a teacher’s pet and got away with things because of her looks, shot her hand up and asked, “Intention for what?”
Mrs. Tookey smiled adoringly. “Whatever you wish—the sky is the limit. If you want something to be, just think about it happening. The universe will provide it for you when the timing is right.”
Lisa glanced at Steve, he looked at me. A bunch of guys at the back of the class laughed. I could only imagine what types of things they were going to wish for. Steve shot a quick look at the guys behind him and smiled. Then he looked back at me and tried to appear serious again.
“Think of something in this world you wish would become a reality for you,” Mrs. Tookey continued. “All right, everyone close your eyes. Rest your feet firmly on the ground. Relax. Feel your breath flow in and out. Think about what you wish would come true for you—something that will bring you supreme happiness. Now put it out there.”
The guys at the back snickered again. Mrs. Tookey cleared her throat, annoyed. I thought about what I wanted my intention to be. The only thing I wanted with all my heart was for my dad not to be dead. There weren’t enough intentions in the world to make that true. Wishing for my dream car made me seem kind of materialistic since other people had way less than I did. Straight As were achievable without intervention from the universe. Hopefully, getting kissed for the first time was a milestone I could also achieve on my own accord. I clenched my eyes shut and set an intention that meant something: I will find a way to earn enough money to do the renovations so Granddad will be able to keep the Inn.
I opened my eyes. Steve stared at me eagerly. “What intention did you set?”
“Isn’t it like a wish? If I tell you, it won’t come true.”
He waved his hand to dismiss my concern. “Nah, the more people you tell, the stronger the intention will become.”
“What’s yours?”
“That you’ll go out with me on Saturday night.” He smiled and raised his eyebrows expectantly.
“Oh,” I muttered, totally unprepared for that.
His smile faded.

CHAPTER THREE (#u8c3f3cfc-b1c5-5637-86f0-ec5b35ac3220)
Thankfully, Mrs. Tookey lectured for the entire class, so Steve and I couldn’t finish the conversation about going out on Saturday night. I was not experienced at all in the world of dating. I needed to consult with Sophie before I gave Steve an answer. When Mrs. Tookey dismissed us, Lisa Alvarez grabbed Steve’s elbow to ask him a question. She did things like act dumb with guys to have an excuse to flirt, even though her grades were at least as good as mine. I took the opportunity to shoot out of my seat and rushed to disappear into the crowd of people in the hall.
I bit my fingernails through my next two classes, watching the clock impatiently. When lunch finally arrived, I pretty much sprinted to the lounge to check in with Nikolai. He still looked shell-shocked, but he had hooked up with another boy who he must have known from elementary school. They were sort of glued to each other. “How’s it going, Nikolai?”
“Um, okay,” he said as he glanced at his friend.
I smiled because his cartoon voice was ridiculously cute. “I’ll be sitting over there if you need anything.” I pointed to the table where I always met Sophie. Then it occurred to me I’d been gone for a year and actually had no idea what Sophie and the guys did for lunch anymore.
“Okay,” Nikolai said again, almost as if he was embarrassed I was hovering. He sat down with his friend at a table full of grade eights. Obviously, he didn’t need my help. I was the one who needed help. No one was at our old table yet, and Steve had already walked in with his friends. If he cornered me before I had a chance to talk to Sophie, I wouldn’t know how to act. Well, that wasn’t true. It wasn’t rocket science—say yes or no. The problem was, I didn’t know which to say.
I almost went back to sit with Nikolai and his grade-eight friends just so I wouldn’t be alone. I glanced around the students’ lounge, hoping to spot Sophie or Doug. Instead, I saw the new guy walk in surrounded by a bunch of grade-twelve girls, who had obviously offered to show him around and have lunch with him. My nose squished up and my lip curled unintentionally because they were the snottiest girls in our school. He sat down at a table squeezed between Corrine Andrews on his right and Paige Peterson on his left. When he glanced up, our eyes accidentally met, so I quickly stared at the floor. I covered my mouth with my hand in case I still had the snarled-lip thing going on. The next time I checked, he was smiling—I couldn’t tell why. Corrine might have said something funny, not that she was known for her wit.
Steve sat at a corner table with a bunch of guys. He scanned the room and stopped at me. My heart raced like a baby gazelle separated from the herd.
“Hey, Derian,” Lisa Alvarez said as she put a tray with an apple and water on the table next to me. Her smile and tone weren’t exactly genuine when she said, “Welcome back.”
“Thanks.” When did she start sitting at the table with Sophie and the guys? Had she been my substitute? If they were trying to replace me, I would have preferred if they had chosen someone with a sliver of integrity.
She sat down and said, “I saw your brother drop you off this morning. Is he dating anyone?”
“Trevor’s not my brother. He’s my neighbour.”
Surprised, she said, “Really? He acts like he’s your brother. Is he single?”
Her eyes were gorgeous, big, with long lashes. And her lips were famous. She’d been every guy’s fantasy girl since her figure developed in grade seven. But Trevor didn’t date insecure girls, girly girls, or girls younger than him. None that I knew of. Even if Lisa Alvarez miraculously gained self-respect, she didn’t have a chance with him. “You’re not Trevor’s type.”
She flipped her long, shiny, brown hair over her shoulders and laughed. “I’m everyone’s type.”
I couldn’t argue with that, if all they were looking for was someone to get lucky with. Thankfully, Sophie, Doug, and the guys from their band had showed up. Sophie leaned in to speak closely to Lisa’s face in an intimidating way, “Trevor likes classy girls, Lisa. You haven’t got a snowball’s chance in hell.”
“Why don’t we let him be the judge of that?” She bit into her apple and looked pretty cocky.
Sophie pointed and said, “Sit over at that table. Don’t make me tell you again.”
Unfazed, Lisa stood with an arrogant grin and wandered over to sit with a different group of grade elevens. If Sophie did that to me, I’d be bawling, so either Lisa was made of Teflon, or she was a master at burying the humiliation. I grabbed Sophie’s arm and dragged her out of the lounge before she had a chance to cause more trouble.
“Wow, you’re eager.” Sophie laughed. “Okay, his name is Mason Cartwright. He’s in grade twelve and just moved to Squamish from Ottawa. His dad owns some sort of import company, and they’re filthy, stinking, disgusting, crazy rich. Apparently his dad commutes to work in a damn helicopter.”
“What? That’s not what I want to talk about. Wait, how did you find all that out so fast?”
“I called Julie at the hair salon. She gets the low-down on everyone. What did you want to talk about?”
“I think Steve asked me out on a date for this Saturday night.”
“You think?”
“He didn’t actually ask. We did this thing in English class where you set an intention and put it out there so the universe will make it come true. His intention was that I would go out with him Saturday night.”
“What did you tell him?”
“Nothing, yet. Tookey started talking and then I ran out of the classroom before he had a chance to ask for real.”
“Well, your answer should be no, simply on the grounds that he used Kooky Tookey’s kooky exercise to ask you out.” She made a pouty puppy-dog face. “Besides, you have to come to our gig on Saturday night. It’s our first real paid show and we need Dirty Deri there.”
Oh God, no. Dirty Deri was a one-time thing when I was going through a bad time right after my dad died. I was willing to go to their gig, but Dirty Deri was staying home, locked in a closet. “If I say yes to Steve, I’ll insist on going to watch you guys play. I just don’t know if I should say yes.”
“What is your Spidey-sense intuition telling you?”
“Nothing about boys. But some random girl is going to suffer a head injury, apparently.”
“Warn me if she’s Japanese. I have no problem rocking a helmet as an accessory.”
“She had blonde hair, so unless you have plans to bleach yours out, it wasn’t you.”
She leaned her back against the wall and crossed her arms as she considered my dilemma. “Do you like Steve?”
“I don’t know. He kind of talks a lot, but he’s really nice and smart. Apparently he plays on the tennis team.”
“And he got cute over the summer,” she pointed out.
“Yes, yes he did.” I contemplated. “But I want to focus on school. And I promised to help out at the Inn. I don’t really have time to date.”
“Deri, you need to at least kiss a boy before you go to college.”
“So, I should say yes?”
“Actually, I think you should wait and see if anything happens with Mason Cartwright.”
“Hardly.” An involuntary snort caught in my throat from the ridiculousness of that. I needed to crawl before I could qualify for the Olympics. “He’s sitting with Corrine and Paige already.”
“Don’t sell yourself short. Tell Steve you’ll go out with him as friends so you can still leave your options open.” She patted me on the shoulder and leaned in to add, “And since he’s walking over here right now, I’ll leave you to that.”
My palms immediately got sweaty. Sophie left, and I slowly turned around to face Steve. I couldn’t exactly read his expression as he walked along the path with his hands in his pockets, but I assumed it was some variation of insulted. “Hey,” he said quietly once we were face to face.
“Hi. Sorry I had to run off after class.”
“No problem.” He looked into my eyes. “I was wondering —”
I cut him off, “Did you mean you want to go out Saturday night as friends?” I smiled enthusiastically, as if I loved the idea. “Or, did you mean you want to go out on Saturday night for a date?” I wrinkled my nose and angled my eyebrows together to imply I wasn’t quite ready for that idea, which was true, so wasn’t hard to produce.
He hesitated for a second before he said, “Friends. Maybe we could go to the party Sophie’s band is playing at.”
“Oh, okay, sure.”
“Great.” He smiled and handed me a key chain. “I know this is kind of lame, but I went to Arizona over the summer. There is this famous architect place there —”
“Taliesin West.”
“Yeah, the Frank Lloyd Wright school. My dad made me go with him for a tour. I remembered when we did that career day in grade eight, you said you wanted to be an architect. And I know you’re always sketching buildings, so I thought you might like it. The key chain is the logo or emblem or something.”
“Wow. Thanks.” I honestly was impressed that he remembered my interest in architecture and was thoughtful enough to get me a souvenir.
“I’m glad you’re back. Things weren’t the same when you weren’t here last year.”
Aw, he was being so sweet. “Thanks. It feels good to be home again.”
He shifted his weight a couple of times. “Okay, well, um, I have a tennis team meeting, so, I guess I’ll see you around.”
“Okay, I’ll see you around.”
He headed towards the gym, and I walked slowly back into the students’ lounge, still processing what just happened. A boy asked me out. A cute, smart, super-nice boy, who obviously doesn’t mind my geek side. I had never thought of Steve in that way, but then again, I had never really thought of any guy as more than a friend. If there were such a thing as romantically stunted, that was me. Dating was a foreign concept to me. Everything I knew about boys was either from Sophie, who started dating when we were twelve. Or from observing Trevor, who had a different pretty girl hanging around him monthly. I didn’t actually have any hands-on experience, but there was no reason why the new Derian couldn’t have a boyfriend if I wanted her to.
Sophie sat up with a hopeful look on her face as I approached the table. “So, do you have a date with Steve for Saturday night?”
“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 (#u8c3f3cfc-b1c5-5637-86f0-ec5b35ac3220)
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 (#u8c3f3cfc-b1c5-5637-86f0-ec5b35ac3220)
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 (#ulink_3e2f6a73-aca1-5461-9701-77e63586ac20)
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.
I hugged my granddad and waved at Trevor, then got into the Explorer. Steve closed my door and jogged around the back to the driver’s side. We didn’t talk as we pulled out onto the highway and headed to Squamish. I could feel him glance over at me repeatedly. The reason I wasn’t prepared for Steve to pick me up for a real date was because I tried to pretend it wasn’t a real date. As far as I was concerned, we were going out as friends. I should have psyched myself and briefed my granddad to play the role of my absent parents.
“You look nice,” he finally broke the silence.
“Thanks.” I studied him with more attention. He had on jeans and a white dress shirt rolled at the sleeves. His blond hair was pushed back off his face in a different style than he wore at school. It suited him better. “I like your hair like that.”
He blinked exaggeratedly, embarrassed. “My sister forced me to let her do it. I wouldn’t normally admit to something like that, but she’s going to be at the party and I can pretty much guarantee she’s going to find a way to tell you that she styled it for me.”
“It looks cute, but I’ll tell her it doesn’t if you want me to.”
He smiled at my offer to back him up. “If you really do like it, I might wear it this way sometimes.”
I inhaled deeply and rubbed my palms along my thighs. I tried to remind myself there was nothing to be nervous about. He was just my friend who I goofed around with at student council meetings. I grew up around Trevor and Murphy and I hung out with Doug and his friends all the time. A guy was a guy. A date didn’t change that. Only, it kind of felt like it did.
“Are you okay?” He looked seriously concerned.
“I get a bit uncomfortable driving on the highway ever since my dad’s accident. If you drive the speed limit I’ll feel better.”
“Oh. Sorry.” He eased up on the accelerator and slowed down.
“Do you dance?” I asked to shift the conversation away from my anxieties.
“Uh, not well. Why? Is that a prerequisite?”
I shrugged because I didn’t have a boyfriend prerequisite list, at least not that I knew of. “It’s more fun to watch Sophie and the guys if you dance.”
“Well, then we’ll dance—or you’ll dance and I’ll try not to look like an idiot.”
I laughed and relaxed a little for the rest of the drive. He was chatty, and there was no lull in the conversation once we were both feeling more comfortable. The party was at a huge house in Squamish to celebrate the nineteenth birthday of a girl who had gone to our school. Her name was Brandi. I didn’t know her that well, but Steve’s sister was her best friend. He’d known her most of his life.
The house was already packed with people when we arrived. The band hadn’t started playing yet, so music cranked out of a stereo system. I spotted Sophie in the corner, setting up the extension cord for her mic. “I’ll be right back.” I squeezed Steve’s hand, then walked over to Sophie and shouted in her ear, “Kill it!”
“You know it!” she yelled back. “How’s it going with Steve?”
“Okay.” I tucked my hair behind my ears.
“Uh-oh, only okay?”
“We got off to a rough start because he asked if my dad wanted to meet him.”
She inserted the mic into the stand and adjusted the angle. “What a moron. Did you start bawling?”
“Yes.”
“What did he do?”
“Nothing. Trevor was there, so he gave me a big hug and went to get my granddad.”
Sophie’s lips curled into a sympathetic pout. “Trevor is so sweet.”
“He takes his big brother duties very seriously.” I dropped my purse and cardigan next to the drums with Sophie’s bag.
“Do something bold with Mason if you get the chance. You need to make a move.”
“No. I’m not going to hit on a stranger. Even if I wanted to, I’d have no clue how to do that.”
“Ask him to dance.”
“I’m technically on a date with someone else, remember?”
She waved her hand dismissively. “Steve’s just a pawn. Keep your eye on the prize.”
Although chess was something I happened to be good at, I wasn’t interested in being the type of person who played with people’s feelings. I glanced around the party, feeling way out of my element. “I should probably get back to Steve before he thinks I ditched him.”
“Don’t forget you’re on for the last song of the first set.”
“No. Dirty Deri is not making an appearance tonight.”
“Have a few drinks, she’ll show up.” She laughed and shoved my shoulder. “Go back to your date. It’s not going to kill you to have some fun.”
I exhaled and walked back across the room towards Steve. He was with his sister and Brandi. They laughed. He smiled uncomfortably as if they had just teased him a little.
“Happy birthday, Brandi,” I said as I tucked in next to Steve.
“Thanks Derian. So you and Stevie, eh?” She pinched his cheek.
I didn’t know if it was supposed to be a question or a statement, so I just smiled.
Steve cleared his throat and said, “Derian, this is my sister Giselle.”
I sort of knew her from school. She used to be a cheerleader, but I had never formally met her before. I extended my hand to shake hers. “Nice to meet you.”
“How do you like Stevie’s new hairstyle?” She giggled as she held his chin and turned his head from side-to-side to show off her handiwork.
“I think it suits him.”
“See! I told you,” she shouted and shoved his chest, way too hyper.
“Okay,” Steve said as he shooed her away. “See you later. Sayonara. Adios. Bu-bye.”
Giselle and Brandi laughed at him, then wrapped their arms around each other and staggered away into the crowd as the band took their positions. Doug stepped up to the mic and Sophie sat down at the drums. She normally sang lead, but she played the drums for their opening number. Doug yelled in his deep, raspy punk voice, “Hit it!” The guys in the band stood in wide guitar stances with their heads hung and played in synchronization while Sophie pounded out the beat. The crowd went mental and slammed into each other in a mosh pit. Doug killed it and then passed the mic to Sophie for their second song, which was always Joan Jett because Sophie could make her voice sound awesomely raw like Joan’s.
“Do you want to dance?” Steve asked.
“Sure, the next one they play is one of my favourites. It’s a punked-out version of Joel Plaskett Emergency’s old-school classic “Nowhere With You.” Do you know it?”
“No, but if you can just jump around to it I should do all right.”
Steve was a not bad dancer and, surprisingly, I was actually having a good time. We danced for at least five songs before taking a break, and I didn’t even mind when he rested his hand on my waist as we walked off the dance floor.
“Do you want something to drink?” he shouted over the music.
Although Sophie suggested that a drink might help, I wasn’t a drinker. I tried a sip of my dad’s beer once, just to see what it was like. I didn’t like it, at all. Plus, I preferred to have all my faculties at my disposal, so I said, “Water would be great. Thanks.”
Steve nodded before he headed towards the kitchen, maybe slightly disappointed that I didn’t want to get drunk. Or maybe he didn’t care. I couldn’t tell. I leaned my back against the wall and looked around. Trevor and Murphy were on the other side of the room surrounded by a group of girls. They were always surrounded by a group of girls, but as far as I could tell, Trevor wasn’t dating anyone. He noticed me and tipped his glass. I waved at him, but then tucked my hair behind my ears and turned my focus towards the kitchen.
Steve held two bottles of water while he talked to Lisa Alvarez. She arched her back and flipped her long brown hair to flirt with him, the same way she acted with every member of the male species. I never understood why someone as pretty and smart as Lisa felt the need to be sleazy to get attention. I probably should have felt jealous, but I assumed she had a shitty home life or something, so I actually felt sorry for her. Steve chatted away with her, maybe oblivious to her tactics, or enjoying them.

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