“That explains the cute accent.”
“I don’t have an accent. You do.”
“Agree to disagree.” He picked up the chocolate milkshake, his fingers sliding through the condensation on the glass as he gripped it, held the straw to her bottom lip. “Taste, Olive.”
Her thighs threatened to smack together again, but she narrowly avoided the action, drinking deeply of the thick, delicious shake, rich cocoa waking up her taste buds and making them sing. All the while, Rory’s gaze tracked a path from her lips to the hollow of her throat and back. “It’s amazing,” she managed, letting the straw go. “And this is nothing like a challenge.”
“Good.” He set the shake down with a smirk. “I think.”
Olive picked up the next shake—mint chip—took a sip and handed it to Rory, so he could do the same. “If you know nothing about the YouTube world, this is all going to sound utterly crazy. But here goes. When I was thirteen, my parents started a YouTube channel. Meet the Cunninghams. They filmed me and my siblings doing everything, during most of our waking hours. Getting ready for school, eating in restaurants, making slime—”
“What? Why?”
“It’s a thing.” Knowing uncomfortable feelings were about to surround her like cloud cover, she swapped mint chip back for classic chocolate. “People watch. Every day. They subscribe to our family.” She ran her finger vertically through the fogged glass. “But it’s the sitcom curse, you know? When kids hit a certain age, they kind of run their course. So the videos became mostly about my little brother and sister, Henderson and Pearl.” She forced a smile onto her face. “Eight million subscribers at last count, though. That’s…really impressive.”
Rory had been sitting with the straw poised in front of his mouth for her entire explanation. “You said they filmed most of your waking hours. After they took you out of the picture, they kept filming your brother and sister?”
“Yes.”
“If you weren’t in the videos anymore, where did you go?”
Oh wow. She’d severely underestimated what it would be like to tell someone out loud that she’d essentially been fired from her own family for getting older. “In my room.” She reached for the third shake—ugh, pina colada? Really? “I stayed out of the way.”
“And they let you? They wanted that?” Her silence served as an affirmative and Rory’s outrage was palpable. “That’s extremely fucked up, sunbeam.”
“It is, a little.” She sipped the pina colada even though it was gross. “Maybe a lot.”
He leaned in and pressed his lips to her cheek. “They shouldn’t have done that to you. I met you fifteen minutes ago and I know you don’t deserve that.”
“Thanks,” she whispered, trying not to be obvious about inhaling shaving cream smell.
“That must have been a while ago…right?” Rory asked, pulling back and narrowing his eyes. “You said you’ve been here a week. Where were you before Long Beach?”
“Living with my parents.”
He set down the milkshake slowly. “Hold up, Olive. How old are you?”
Uh oh. Was this going to be an issue? “Eighteen.”
“Christ.” He dragged both hands down his face. “That’s young.”
Olive reared back. “I’m renting my own apartment. My shower curtain matches my towels. There are serious adult decisions being made here.” Her comeback earned her a quirked male smile and she couldn’t help but return it. “How old are you?”
“Twenty-four.” He seemed to be chewing glass. “How do you have your own place at eighteen? Long Beach isn’t cheap, especially in the summer time.”
She hesitated a moment. “The thing about eight million subscribers…it means advertisers will pay a ton to run ads on your channel…”
He leaned away. “So you’re not only young and smart, you’re a rich girl.”
“Hey, I earned it,” she deadpanned. “Sliming ain’t easy.”
“Olive,” he groaned. “Please stop being so fucking cute.”
Her stomach flipped. “Because you still want to walk away?”
“I shouldn’t have to. You should be running toward something better.” Rory’s expression was the epitome of conflicted, but he was saved from having to elaborate when the bell dinged over the door and a girl Olive recognized walked into Mike’s Shakes. She looked around at the ancient décor and made a face, hefting her backpack higher on her shoulders. When Leanne spotted her, she waved. Olive’s arm felt like lead, but she managed to lift it and return the greeting.
“Oh, um. My study date is here.”
Rory hadn’t glanced once at the newcomer, continuing to study her face. “I have to get to work, anyway.”
“Okay,” she murmured, reaching into her pocket for money. “Let me help pay—”
He caught her wrist. “On me, sunbeam.”
Leanne slid into the booth across from them slowly and Olive didn’t even need to glance over to know her study partner was watching with rapt interest. “H-hey Olive. I brought the Perspectives and Connections book you left in my car on Thursday.”
“Thank you.”
“Perspectives and Connections,” mouthed Rory with a wry twist of his lips. “I’ll leave you to it.”