“Dude, you have to talk to Ella for me.” Dev pauses with his paintbrush in midair. He’s got his shirt off even though it’s a chilly day with an inconstant sea breeze. And he’s painted maybe one-tenth of the area I’ve done in the exact same time. Of course, he’s got Matty to check on, but even the dog’s looking pensively at the tiny area Dev’s managed to complete. We’re going to be here all day at this rate.

“Okay,” I say slowly. “Why, exactly?”

“Her sister is ignoring me.” He glowers at his work and runs the brush over an area that’s already covered, then steps back to rewet the bristles. He’d dragged out my father’s red folding chair to put his paint tray on, and now there are drips over one of the arms. It’s not like I care what happens to the chair. But when Sebastian came across it the other day, his face had gone white. I should just get rid of the fucking thing.

“How is Renee ignoring you? I thought you took her out a couple days ago.” I draw a steady line along the edge of the window, accidentally getting a line of paint on the back of my hand. Which reminds me of Ella’s hand running down my bicep. Which make me think of following her up the lighthouse stairs. And her in my bed.

She’s the most distracting woman on the planet. Even Sebastian and Dev have noticed, ragging on me yesterday when I overshot the tie off.

“I took her out,” Dev says. “Nice restaurant too. You been to that bistro on the end of the Harborwalk?”

I shake my head. “So she’s ignoring you since then? What did you do to her?”

“No, I mean she’s talking to me, man. We talk every day.”

I heave out a sigh, not getting whatever he’s saying at all. “But she’s ignoring you? I swear to God, if you don’t explain yourself in the next few minutes, I’m going to start ignoring you too.”

“You know when a girl doesn’t really look at you?”

I think about this for a long moment. “No,” I finally conclude.

Dev rolls his eyes, but I’m not really sure at what. “It’s like she doesn’t see all this.” He holds up an arm and flexes it. “She never fucking looks at me.”

“Maybe she’s not into you.” I shrug. “Not every woman is into douche-roosters.”

He flips me off with one hand and keeps running over the same painted patch with the other. “Then why is she still agreeing to go out with me? Why is she still talking to me? Fucking mixed signals, that’s what. And when I asked her, she refused to answer.”

I bark out a laugh. “What exactly did you ask her?”

“I just asked her why she never checks me out.”

And now I’m laughing harder. “And what did she say?”

“She called me a rolling pin. And then she explained this whole silverware theory to me. About you being a spork and some other shit about—”

“A spork?” I set my brush on the edge of the paint can.

“But I guess that’s a good thing since Ella’s into sporks.”

“She’s into sporks?”

He glares at me. “Stop changing the subject, dude. So I’m a rolling pin, but Renee was looking for a steak knife. But thinks she really might just want a spoon or some shit.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” I try to cover my laughter behind a hand, but Dev glares at me again.

“That’s why you’ve got to talk to Ella, man.” He shakes his head. “Figure out what the fuck is going on with the silverware.”

“Well, I’d been planning to text her about taking out the charter next week.”

“Then do it.”

“I was kind of waiting for the right time. Didn’t want to approach her too quickly after…” It’s my turn to sigh. It wasn’t like I was trying to wait the three days like some guys do. I just felt like if I pushed too hard, she might back away again. Hand-holding is progress, and I don’t want to lose those forward steps.

He points at me. “Just text her. You’re a spork, whatever the fuck that means. But they’ve been talking about you, so that means you’re in. Girls don’t talk about a guy unless he’s relevant.”

I consider him. “Well, I do want to talk to her about next week.” I shrug and wipe the paint off the back of my hand before pulling my phone out of my pocket. I meander around the side of the ticket hut, feeling awkward with Dev staring at me, and pull up Ella’s number.

Me: Hi.

Yep, I put all my thought into that one. But it’s just my intro.

Her: Hi back.

She answers just a few seconds later, which makes me want to high-five myself.

Me: We’re taking the boat out on Thursday if u still want to go.

I wait, tapping the side of the phone and glancing toward the bakery. It’s late afternoon, so she’s probably not there anymore.

Her: Okay. I’ll be there. Want me to bring cock cakes?

Holy shit, I burst out laughing.

Me: Um, if u want to I guess.

Her: Nooooo!!!

Her: I hate autocorrect.

Her: Cupcakes!!! Want me to bring cupcakes?

Me: U have the best phone ever.

Her: Why does it always do that when I’m texting u?

Me: Maybe ur phone likes me?

Her: Now I’m scared to type anything.

Me: Naw, it’s cute. Still at work?

Her: At home. Writing a letter.

Me: A letter?

Her: It’s nothing.

I stare at her reply for a minute. Something unsettles me about it, like I can hear her tone coming through the phone. And it doesn’t sound good. Does it have to do with her mother?

Me: Can I help u with it?

Her: No. I just farted it.

Her: Started it!!! OMG. Going to hide now.

Me: Best phone ever.

Dev steps around the corner. “What are you laughing at?”

I tuck my phone away. “Nothing. Just autocorrect.”

He nods. “You ask about me?”

Oh, fuck. “Yeah, about that… No. Not at all.”