This chapter is really long. I was going to split it, but both halves were too short, so in the end I just kept it as it was. Hope you like it!

Dedicated to Fizzyswag for comparing me to Sarah Dessen (asdfghjkl)

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            Downstairs, I could hear thumping.

            It wasn’t even soft, either; it was an extremely loud, incredibly distracting type of thumping that jogged my pencil each time it started up again. I was trying to sketch the view from my window – a relatively easy task, for lack of a better thing to do – but the way this was going, it looked like Walden was in the middle of a particularly violent earthquake. I just couldn’t stop my pencil from jerking every few strokes. It sounded like Gram had taken a hammer and was hacking violently at the wall; this, perhaps, was the main reason I decided to rise from my desk and investigate.

            I found her in the kitchen. She was bent over her washing machine, which she’d dragged out from the wall, whacking at it forcefully with her fist.

            “Uh, Gram?” My voice was drowned out by another loud thump; I cleared my throat and tried again. “Gram!”

            This time she stopped, spinning around to face me. Her glasses had slid right down to the end of her nose, so that she peered at me over the top of the frames.  “Yes, dear?”

            I frowned. “What are you doing?”

            “Well,” she said, “the washing machine’s broken.”

            “Right,” I responded slowly, wondering if I was missing something obvious here. “And, um… you’re punching it why exactly?”

            “I seem to remember I had the exact same problem a few years ago,” she mused. Of course, when Gram said ‘a few years ago’, we were more likely to be looking at a timescale of around thirty years previously. “And Jim tried something like this, I’m sure. But it doesn’t seem to be working this time.”

            I was pretty sure the washing machine’s instruction manual would advise against physical assault as a method of repair, but I didn’t voice my opinion. Instead, I suggested gingerly, “Well, maybe you should call someone out to take a look.”

            “Hmm… maybe.” She was still frowning at it, as if by narrowing her eyes the problem would magically disappear. “The trouble is, I’ve got a huge pile of washing to do and it’ll probably take a while for someone to come out.” She paused. “Maybe I should just have another go at doing it myself…”

            “No!” I interjected, a little too quickly. “I mean, the launderette’s only down the road. I could go down there and do it for you.”

            Though spending an afternoon with the contents of Gram’s wash basket didn’t sound exceedingly appealing, I was more worried about her doing herself an injury tinkering with the thing. Not to mention flooding the kitchen if she managed to whack it hard enough. For such a little woman, she had a surprising amount of strength.

            “Really? Well, that’d be a great help, Flo, but you don’t have to.”

            “It’s fine,” I assured her. “I’ll do it. You just go dig out the Yellow Pages and get a number for a plumber, okay?”

            That was why, half an hour later, I found myself on the way down to the town centre with a zip-up bag of Gram’s washing in one hand. For once, the sun was actually shining over Walden, sending tourists flocking to the beach and making the pebbled shoreline busier than I’d ever seen it before. Free spots were disappearing at an alarming rate; everywhere I looked, there seemed to be another family piling in, setting up their windbreakers and tents whilst the kids made for the sea. I had to consciously block out the flashback that was threatening to set in – of seaside day trips when Nora and I were kids, filled with smiles and afternoon ice-creams and my parents holding hands. I was closer to them now than I’d ever been, yet the memories seemed a lifetime away.

            As I reached the boardwalk, starting in the direction of the launderette, I couldn’t help but let my eyes linger on the ice-cream shop. It sat a little further along the street, but even from here I could see the place was packed; the queue stretched right outside the door, and I could picture Daniel inside, scooping double and triple cones at top speed.

            Five days had passed the party, but they’d been five days that had stretched on forever. Each time I ventured out of Gram’s cottage I got my hopes up that I’d bump into one of them again, but I always seemed to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. I still had Daniel’s number, scrawled on the crumpled piece of paper that now sat tucked safely inside my favourite book, but I hadn’t worked up the nerve to contact him.

            My conversation with Erin had left the evening looking up considerably. For once, I’d felt myself able to relax – and then of course there was the hilarity that ensued when Jay downed one too many beers and ended up dancing drunkenly to the Macarena on Collette’s coffee table.

            A bell tinkled overhead as I pushed through the door of the laundrette. The smell of washing powder was pungent in the air; I could feel my nose tingling instantly. Aside from an elderly lady engrossed in an edition of Knit Today on one of the plastic benches, the place was empty.

            We exchanged a curt nod as I walked by, but when I approached the nearest machine and stood blankly in front of it for a second, I realised I didn’t have the faintest clue about how to use it.

            Deciding to go with the thing that seemed most sensible, I began pulling the pile of clothing from Gram’s bag and stuffing it into the machine. I shoved the few pairs of her baggy white underwear in as quickly as possible, sincerely hoping that the old lady behind me was absorbed deeply enough in her knitting patterns to remain uninterested by my washing.

            There was a powder dispenser over on the far wall, so that was my next port of call. Digging through the mounds of change Gram had equipped me with, I eventually came up with a couple of coins and slotted them in. So far, so good, I thought, as I took the cup. I only hoped that the lady would yell if she could see me doing something completely idiotic.

            Like trying to put detergent in the dryer, or something.

            In fact, it all seemed to be going pretty well. At least that’s what I assumed several minutes later, once I’d actually managed to get the machine going. At any rate, I could see water splashing against the circular glass door, which had to be a good sign. Feeling pleased with myself, I sunk back onto one of the plastic seats and wondered if I was just a natural at doing laundry.

            As it went, my good mood only lasted about ten minutes into the spin cycle. It was at that point that the boredom began to set in, and I realised it probably would’ve been wise to bring something to pass the time. Even if it did happen to be this week’s issue of knitting patterns.

            Contrary to popular belief, sitting alone in a silent launderette with only an elderly stranger for company wasn’t the most exciting way I could’ve spent my afternoon.

            Eventually I settled into people watching, which, considering the odd mix of tourists that could be found on any given day in Walden, had the potential to provide some entertainment. Still, that didn’t mean I didn’t get tired of seeing the same people walk up and down, striding past the launderette as if it were invisible to the naked eye. The most common passers included the single mother of identical triplets, who looked as if the weight of the world rested on her shoulders, a man who had possibly the worst sunglasses tan I’d ever seen, and a young couple that seemed to think it incredibly romantic (instead of just cheap) to share a single ice cream between them. Honestly.

            I’d already transferred the clothes to the dryer, and was about to check how much time the cycle had remaining, when the sight of a familiar pair caused me to start. They were walking cheerily past the window: a tall brunet, ducking down slightly to hear what the other was saying, and the unmistakable violet ponytail of the girl beside him.

            I went to duck out of sight, suddenly chickening out, but I wasn’t quick enough.

            Erin was the one to spot me; her peripheral vision must’ve been exceptional, because her feet dragged to a halt just moments after passing  the window. Daniel, obviously less observant, continued walking for a few paces until he noticed the absence of his twin beside him, and looked back to see where she’d got to.

            “Look!” I heard her say, her voice muffled through the glass. “It’s Flo!”

            Daniel, slightly bemused, took longer to grasp the situation. His gaze followed Erin’s pointing finger dazedly, but a flicker of realisation appeared once his eyes had landed on me. “Oh!”

            Maybe he was going to say something more, but he didn’t get the chance; his sister had already taken hold of his wrist, yanking him toward the launderette door.

            “Hi!” Erin called, thundering into the tiny place with as much force as a tornado. Her presence seemed to come in shockwaves, each one reverberating into every corner of the room. Daniel trailed behind her, much calmer by comparison.

            “Hey,” I said awkwardly, not quite sure how to go about our greetings. “Um, what are you guys doing here?”

            “Lunch break,” Daniel told me with a smile. “We were going to grab some chips. Didn’t expect to see you in here, of all places.”

            “Well…” I scratched the back of my head sheepishly. “Our washing machine broke, and I offered to come down here, so…”

            “Ah, right. So you’re like, the good Samaritan of the family?”

            My mind wandered back to Gram’s unconventional repair method, and how my offer had only really been to prevent large-scale damage. “Something like that.”

            “Well, if you’re almost done here, you could come with us,” he suggested. “You know, if you want to.”

            “Oh. Sure.”

            The days since the party had been stretched wide with boredom, and I was in desperate need of some company from my own age group. Gram was sweet enough, but adjusting to her slightly odd lifestyle – often, I’d find her awake at one in the morning, dabbing her paintbrushes on canvas because, and I quote, ‘inspiration had struck’ – had been kind of taxing. At that moment, I was grateful for any kind of invitation.

            The dryer’s cycle came to an end then, beeping loudly to inform us. Weaving between the twins, I headed over and wrenched the door open.

            “Need any help?” Erin’s voice sounded beside me; she was leaning on the edge of the dryer, watching with amusement as I pulled the clothing out and stuffed it haphazardly back into the bag. An elastic band held her vibrant hair in an untidy ponytail, leaving a second silver stud in her cartilage on view. Remembering the brief exchange about the piercing in her tongue, I was left wondering exactly how many she had in total.

            “I’ve got it, thanks.”

            I forced the last of the clean washing into the bag, yanking the zipper across. Daniel sauntered over, looking between the two of us. “You good to go?”

            “Yep.”

            Then his eyes flickered downward, and I wondered what he found so fascinating about the greying tiles beneath our feet. “Um,” he began, “I think you dropped something.”

            An immediate jolt of dread coursed through me; I was expecting the worst. It turned out I was right to. When my gaze followed his, landing on the patch of floor just in falling distance of the tumble dryer, my stomach performed a particularly unpleasant somersault.

            Lying on the floor were a pair of polka-dot knickers.

            Not Gram’s. Mine.

            A gasp of something between surprise and mortification left my lips, and I bent over instantly, snatching up the underwear and screwing it into a ball. I’d already zipped up the bag on my shoulder, so instead I went for the next best thing, stuffing them into the pocket of my shorts. My cheeks were on fire; I was sure their temperature would’ve been sufficient to fry an egg.

            I dared to look upwards at Daniel and Erin, finding them staring silently back at me. It lasted, however, for a maximum of two seconds – after that, they simultaneously burst into hysteric fits of laughter.

            “Okay, okay,” I mumbled, as Erin clutched the side of the dryer for support, “it’s really not that funny.”

            My cheeks, still flaming, showed no sign of cooling any time soon. Sure, it was funny for them, but they weren’t the ones with their underwear on public display. Although, it occurred to me then, Erin probably wouldn’t care in the slightest. Thirty seconds later, and it seemed like they were sobering up, but my hopes were soon snubbed; one look at each other, and both were set off again.

            Glancing between them, I could feel my own lips curling into a smile. Their laughter was infectious, even if it was at the expense of my dignity. Even I had to admit my reaction was priceless.

            “God, Flo,” Erin said, when her laughter had subsided to a point that allowed her to speak, “you’re hilarious, you know that?” She wiped a tear from her eye.

            “Yeah, alright,” I murmured, but the twitching corners of my mouth ruined my attempt at seriousness. “Come on, are we going to get some lunch, or what?”

            The suggestion was met, as expected, by a collective noise of assent. Hitching the bag over my shoulder, and making a conscious effort to avoid eye contact with Daniel, the three of us headed out of the launderette into the afternoon sun.

***

            Twenty minutes later, having ditched my belongings in the back of Daniel’s shop, the three of us were sat on the beach, newspaper-wrapped chips in hand. I had to admit the food from the seaside chippy had a significant edge over the one back home, even if it did hold the disadvantage of lurking seagulls whilst you tried to eat.

            “So how’s your sister doing?” Daniel asked, glancing over. Though the sun was shining, the sea breeze was as strong as ever, ruffling his wavy hair. “No sign of the baby yet?”

            “Your sister’s having a baby?” Erin piped up.

            “Uh huh.” I nodded, spearing a chip with my wooden fork. “She’s eight months gone. No sign of it yet, but you know, the panicked phone call could come at any minute.”

            “That’s so cool,” she mused. “You’re going to be an aunt.”

            I paused as the thought passed over my head. It had done so on countless occasions before, but hearing it from Erin’s mouth seemed to let the knowledge properly sink in. Of course, I’d known since Nora had first announced her pregnancy – and by ‘announced’, I meant running out of the bathroom, waving a positive pregnancy test and letting that speak for itself – but I hadn’t really allowed myself to think too hard about it. I was only seventeen; I felt in no way ready to be an aunt. Weren’t they usually gentle thirty-somethings, with blow-dried hair and fluffy jumpers? Awkward teenagers with frizzy curls and more of a preference for comfy hoodies? Not so much.

            But still. Nora was on the brink of motherhood, and that was pretty hard to get your head around too.

            “I know,” I said. “It’s weird when you put it like that.”

            “She thought of any names?” At least that’s what I thought she said; it was difficult to tell when her mouth was full. Erin was clearly not one for elegance.

            “I don’t think so, but her boyfriend’s completely bonkers. Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if they ended up with a baby called Jesus.”

            Beside me, Daniel inhaled so sharply he ended up inducing a coughing fit, consequently attracting the attention of everybody in a twenty metre radius. Even the two toddlers in front of us, strapped into a double buggy and wailing for the entire time we’d been sat here, fell silent to stare at him curiously. I bit back a laugh as Erin and I slapped his back, trying to help him recover.

            “Sorry,” he said sheepishly, once he’d sobered up, “I was just imagining a kid called Jesus. I mean, come on, that’s just asking to have the crap beaten out of you, isn’t it?”

            “Yeah. I mean, I had the mickey taken out of me enough just being called Flo,” I said, “and that was before they found out what it’s short for.”

            “Which is?”

            “Florence,” I muttered darkly. There seemed to be the ghost of a smirk playing at Erin’s lips, but she refrained from commenting. “I’m telling you, you guys got off easy with normal names.”

            Daniel’s retort was cut off by the shrill ringing from Erin’s pocket, which only intensified in volume once she’d pulled it out. Making a face at the screen, she jabbed at a button and answered, “Hello?”

            We watched with curiosity as her brow furrowed; whatever news the caller seemed to bear, she didn’t exactly seem overjoyed. “You’re joking,” she said, which was soon followed by, “Really? There’s nobody else?”

            I shot a sideways look at Daniel, silently questioning, to which he mouthed back work. I nodded, albeit a little confusedly. I’d assumed Erin worked alongside him at the ice-cream shop; he’d mentioned before that his family owned it. And bearing in mind the way Daniel seemed to be swept off his feet all hours of the day, regardless of the weather, it didn’t seem likely for him to turn down extra help.

            “No, I can be there,” Erin was now saying. “Yeah. In like, half an hour. That okay?” Setting down her portion of chips, she switched the mobile phone to her other ear in one swift movement. “Yeah, okay, I’ll see you in a bit.”

            “Everything okay?” I asked, when she cut the call and slid it back into her pocket.

            “Work emergency,” she said, her response punctuated by an eye roll, “again. Two out of the three people meant to be in today have called in ‘sick’. Apparently, I’m the only one available to cover.”

            “That sucks.”

            “Tell me about it. There goes my day off.” She sighed. “Well, I guess I’ll see you guys later. I better leg it up to the station before the quarter past train leaves. Let Mum know, okay, Daniel?”

            “Yeah, got it.”

            She gathered to her feet, sparing the two of us a wave before setting off across the stones. Hands hooked inside the pockets of her denim shorts, her wavy ponytail bounced in rhythm with her pacing. She deserted us so quickly I didn’t even have time to have an internal moment of panic at the prospect of being left alone with Daniel; without Erin to keep things running smoothly, I was about ten times more likely to embarrass myself.

            I turned to look at him, but he’d beat me to it, staring back with an expression that made me feel uncomfortably like I was being studied. “Um,” was all I could manage. I could practically feel my usual awkwardness creeping back in, no longer repelled by the barrier of Erin’s bold personality. “I thought she worked at the shop with you?” I stammered eventually, for lack of a better conversation starter.

            It took a moment for Daniel to snap out of his semi-dazed state. “Nah,” he said eventually, shaking his head, “she’s always refused to work more than a shift in that place. Only when she absolutely has to. I don’t think she’s ever really said why. I mean, it’s not like we don’t need the extra help over the summer – she could take a job there tomorrow if she wanted.”

            “And she doesn’t?”

            “Nope. Takes the train into town every weekend, even though it takes her twenty minutes. She works at this little clothing boutique in the shopping centre.”

            “Oh.” I dragged my eyes away from Daniel’s freckled face, letting them refocus on the vast stretch of ocean unfolding out as far as the horizon. The sun sat high in an almost cloudless sky, its light reflecting off the moving surface of the water, providing the remarkable illusion that somebody had poured a giant vat of glitter into the sea. “Maybe she just wants a break from this place,” I said quietly. “You know, just for a little while.”

            “Maybe.” His voice sounded suddenly distant, as if he’d been pulled down beneath his thoughts. I resisted the urge to look over again, to memorise his each and every feature and the way they seemed to fit together so perfectly. Instead, I chose a boat floating absently near the horizon, its white sail stark against the sky.

            “Is it really that bad?” he asked a few moments later, turning to me. “This place, I mean. They all seem to talk about it being so awful, but… I don’t know. It just feels the same to me. Familiar.”

            “Well, it’s different to what I’m used to, that’s for sure,” I told him, “but it’s not awful.”

            I was telling the truth. I mean, how could it be awful when people like him and Erin lived there? I’d known them barely a week, yet already there was something that weakened any doubt I might’ve had about trusting them. All the friends I’d had in the last few years I’d kept safely at arms’ length, only fully opening myself up to Nora. I’d convinced myself that it was us against the world – that other people wouldn’t understand. But somehow, in such a short space of time, I’d already told them more than I ever thought I would.

            Maybe it was just the sea air.

            “I guess,” Daniel said.

            We lapsed into silence again: a comfortable quietness, which lasted until he pulled out his phone, checking the time. “Ten minutes,” he informed me wearily. “Then I’ve got to be heading back. It’s going to be another crazy afternoon.”

            “How many other people work with you?”

            The expression etched across his face was one I couldn’t quite work out. “Right now,” he confessed, “it’s pretty much just me and Mum. Erin will help out if we’re desperate, but that’s not often. My cousin was meant to be coming down and helping over the summer, but he’s hardly been pulling his weight. I take care of most of it. Even the business side of things.”

            “Really?” My surprise proved impossible to mask. “That’s impressive.”

            “Yeah, well. I wanted to, you know, after–” He stopped abruptly, as if suddenly realising what he was saying. “I just wanted to. I’m good at that sort of thing.”

            “Right.”

            A few moments later had something occurring to him. I could sense it in the way his eyes – which, I noticed, were an unusual shade caught between green and brown – lit up. Like an actual light bulb, more than just a metaphorical one, had gone off somewhere inside his head. “Hey, I know this is a bit of a long shot, but,” he conducted a brief gauge of my expression, “you wouldn’t – maybe – be interested in a job at the shop? I mean, I’m not trying to force you or anything, but I’ve had an ad up for a while and haven’t had much luck… and maybe, well, you know…”

            “You’re offering me a job?”

            “Well, yeah.” He scratched the back of his head. “If you fancy it.”

            Did I? I wasn’t entirely sure. Of course, it would serve as something to occupy me over what was looking certain to be a very dull summer. Then there was the obvious advantage of spending more time with Daniel, if I got over the worry of my imminent personal humiliation around him. But…

            Well, what was the ‘but’? It was there, definitely; something very solid was stopping me from accepting straightaway. Yet when I tried to identify it exactly, it seemed to vanish, as if nothing had been there in the first place.

            “Yeah,” I said eventually, my face breaking out into a smile, “I do.”

            “Great! That’s sorted, then. How does tomorrow sound?”

            My heart fluttered as it caught sight of his award-winning smile, making it incredibly difficult to string together even the simplest of responses. “Yeah,” I breathed, “tomorrow sounds great.”

            And then he was grinning again, saying something about how all I needed was an apron, and I’d be an official part of the crew. I found myself laughing in response, joking about how I couldn’t wait. It was true, really, because despite my nerves, the prospect of spending entire days with Daniel seemed to make them shine in itself. My mind had been left reeling, whizzing over too many things to process, while my legs had turned to the consistency of jelly, but the bizarreness had an almost exhilarating quality. It felt as if I’d never be able to get enough of it, which was strange, especially considering this was somebody I barely knew. All of a sudden tomorrow seemed both seconds and light years away.

            It was official. I was in over my head.

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I love Daniel and Erin so much omg. Can Walden just be real so I can live there? I don't even know what to say here except PLEASE COMMENT. Seriously, way too many of you guys are silent readers :( And I'm really excited about this story, so I'd love to know what you think so far. Even if it's just a short one? Pretty please?

Also (shameless self promotion, sorry!) remember to vote for me in the Watty Awards. Most Popular Short Story is the only one I'm winning so I'd love to stay in the lead for that. The others I've kind of accepted the fact that I'm getting thrashed, haha. Anyway, hope you guys liked the chapter and thanks for reading! <3