“And you’re sure they’re on board with me crashing the weekend?”
You turn to look at the man you’ve been seeing for the last several months. He smiles at you from below the worn baseball cap jammed over his dark, unruly curls, his sharp jawline visible under several days’ scruff. “Yup, just like I told you last time. They’re gonna love you, baby, don’t worry.” He grips your knee reassuringly before turning his focus back to the winding road.
His truck lurches as one tire skirts the edge of a massive pothole. You reach for the dashboard to steady yourself but he’s already adjusted. The roads leading to the beach house his squad have rented for the weekend are lined on either side with rolling grassy dunes under an endless blue sky, and the gravel crunching under the tires reminds you how far you’ve driven from the stress and grind of daily life. This is the first vacation the two of you have taken together, and it’s also the first time you’ll be meeting the men Frankie described as his old army buddies. They’re clearly important to him, and that means making a decent first impression is important to you.
“Almost there,” Frankie murmurs, his eyes trained on the road ahead. The truck crests a small rise and the rented beach house comes into view. It’s cuter than you expected, a pale, robin’s egg blue with white trim and large plate glass windows. You roll the window down and lean your head out for a better look. A salty breeze whips past your face, bringing with it the scent of drying seaweed. Gulls squawk and croon overhead and the noonday sun beats down onto burning sand.
