Summer Romance

By F.N. Manning

Can one summer change everything?
While his first job at a grocery store isn't exactly glamorous, at least Neil will earn a paycheck. Just when the 15-year-old is resigned to a boring summer asking customers if they prefer paper or plastic, he meets his good-looking coworker Carter Ford.

Popular Carter and socially awkward Neil are equals at the store. Coworkers. And maybe more? Getting Carter's attention feels like a dream come true, but the time to wake up is fast approaching. Because when summer ends, their relationship will end too unless Neil can convince Carter to take a chance on what they have.

Summer Romance is YA M/M novel about first crushes, secret relationships, and adorable boys with hidden loves of cats and cheesy pop music. Get your copy today!

• Language: English
• Publisher: F.N. Manning
• Release date: Mar 4, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393346364

Book preview

Summer Romance

F.N. Manning

Copyright © 2020 F.N. Manning

All rights reserved

This is a work of fiction for entertainment purposes only. Content on the cover is used for illustrative purposes only and includes a model from a stock photo. Names, characters, places, and incidents in this book are either made up by the author or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual people, locales or events is entirely coincidental.

No part of this eBook may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

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Table of Contents

1. The Least Exciting Job in the World?

2. Starting Off on the Wrong Foot

3. Making Friends or Making Amends

4. Employee Bonding

5. Getting to Know You

6. Employee... Flirting?

7. Hello Cruel World

8. When All Seems Lost...

9. Cue the Romance

10. Coworker Canoodling

11. Ups and Downs

12. Cats Can’t Solve Everything

13. Heart to Hearts

14. Happily Ever After?

Prologue

Amazing summer jobs? Lifeguard. Ticket taker at the water park. Person who lays on a folding chair and makes the pool look busier than it is. Okay, so the first two likely wouldn’t be as glamorous as I imagined. Between standing out in the hot sun all day and making sure people didn’t die or pee in the pool, those jobs probably get old fast. And ‘pool lounger’ probably isn’t a real job. Still, what 15-year-old dreams of having a summer job at the grocery store?

It doesn’t scream ‘exciting summer plans, other teenagers be jealous.’ Isn’t that secretly what all high schoolers want? Perfection is always out of reach as a teen but that’s not what it takes to be happy. It’s not about having the best things or the greatest plans but just being good enough to make someone else really jealous.

All you have to do is be better than at least one person and then you can rest easy knowing you aren’t the biggest loser around. Someone else holds that title other than you. Spared from being the worst-case scenario brings some peace of mind, but true victory involves someone else wanting what you have. Envy, that’s the dream.

My life? Decidedly lacking in the envy department.

No one envied being stuck inside all day when the freedom of summer and sunshine existed elsewhere. The grocery store was like being at school but with worse glaring lights and more standing on my feet for eight hours with only the occasional 15-minute break in between.

I didn’t think anything exciting would happen to me this summer. Then I met Carter Ford.

1. The Least Exciting Job in the World?

Most kids and teens won’t admit that the sacred time known as summer has any downsides when the final bell of the year rings and school shuts it doors for three magical months. When you’re neck deep in work and doing nothing but studying, the idle bliss of summer seems like perfection. The experience of eating potato chips all day and watching absolute crap on TV is indeed pure bliss. For about a month.

Then it gets a bit old. You’ve seen every episode of syndicated TV twice, the novelty of Judge Judy wears off, and the soap operas keep moving at the same glacial pace. The long summer days stretch into longer nights because you can’t go to bed at a decent hour when you don’t have to and there’s only so much pointless information you can cram into your brain on a Wikipedia spiral. Time drags and going to school and having something to do becomes almost appealing, like a break is needed from the break.

But this? Getting a job? Pretty sure it isn’t the answer to my summer woes.

Maybe I’d look forward to this important rite of passage more if I had a choice in the matter. My parents say they believe in saving money so that their offspring can all have a decent college fund, but really, they’re just cheap. I’m the oldest of three. It’s up to me to pitch in and do my share. That used to mean babysitting my younger siblings and not complaining when I didn’t get paid for it. Now, it means my free ride is over. I’m expected to pay for anything I want. 

I’m old enough to work, so I need a job. I have to buy my own school clothes and gas for the car. And incidentally, a car, once I save up enough money for it. At least driving to and from my job under the watchful eye of my parents gets me closer to my elusive learner’s permit. And If I’m lucky enough, for a given definition of the word ‘lucky,’ I’ll spend my summer making bank by washing produce, taking coupons from little old ladies, and doing whatever else grocery store clerks do.

First order of business: survive the job interview.

I sat in the back office of the Meyer’s General Store while the owner, Jim Meyers, regarded me patiently from across his desk. When working in the back, Mr. Meyers looked like the kind of guy who could haul boxes out of the delivery truck without a forklift. He wouldn’t do that, because it was unsafe, but he looked like he could as he was big and solid. He might appear intimidating if not for his round, open face. A big mass of a man who was actually a giant teddy bear.

I had known this man since I was a baby. There was no reason to be nervous. I wiped my sweating hands on the uncomfortable dark slacks I wore to look presentable.

The older man regarded me with a polite expression as he got started with the questions. What do you want out of this job, Neil? Don’t say money. Too obvious. But otherwise? I’ve got nothing.

I cleared my throat and spoke. Honesty was the best policy, right? I know I’m not supposed to say I want this job for the money, I voiced uncertainly. But I don’t know what to say instead.

Hold on. Did an honesty policy only apply on Sesame Street and not in the work force? Jim didn’t say anything to that immediately, so I continued with, I do want money. I’m going to buy a paint set or some running shoes. Or blow my salary on potato chips and video games, but even honesty had its limits.

Oh, I didn’t know you were an artist, he commented, then waited for me to elaborate.

But there wasn’t much to say. I’m not really.

There was a beat of silence before Mr. Meyers rallied. Well, are the running shoes for solo exercise or do you want to join the track team?

I shrugged. I don’t know. One of those, definitely. Or they’d gather dust in the back of my closet.

If Mr. Meyers were anyone else, he’d thank me for coming in and I’d never hear from him again. He’d file my application in the ‘never ever hire’ category. Fortunately, he knew me well enough to figure out what I was trying to say. You’re looking to expand your horizons?

I smiled gratefully. Exactly.

His green tie matched the vests of the uniforms the regular employees like me had to wear. Mr. Meyers had light brown hair going grey around the edges. Combed neatly, every hair rested perfectly in place atop his head. He raised a hand to run over his head, and I made a noise of protest instinctually because his wife hated when he did that. He never remembered to straighten his hair again. Then I remembered I was applying to be a lowly employee and had no right telling the boss what to do.

I started sputtering apologies, but the man across the desk only smiled kindly. Don’t worry. You’re doing fine. Doubtful, but there was no reason to question the boss.

We moved on to other topics but that first question stuck in my mind as we chatted about all the wonderful (and largely imaginary) strengths I could bring to the team here. What did I want from this job?

I wanted money to spend on frivolous purchases. That didn’t sound practical or mature, but I wanted to find something I liked. I went into high school unprepared. There were no activities I was good at or clubs I wanted to join. I wanted to have an interest I genuinely enjoyed and a way to meet other people. Being the guy who still had questions about Lost hadn’t earned me many friends.

My social skills also needed work. I hadn’t quite gotten the hang of showcasing my sparkling personality in front of strangers. I thought of the perfect thing to say five minutes after the conversation ended and froze up under direct eye contact.

Anyway, what was up with the Others? Dammit, it was hard to get my brain off TV once it went there. I binged Lost over spring break, okay? Where did the smoke monster come from? Did the three-toed statue mean anything? What the hell was Claire’s whole storyline about? These were still burning questions I wanted answers to.

I’m a TV junkie. I had no interesting stories from my life to share, but I could always provide the play-by-play for the hottest serial dramas. I lived vicariously through the stories on the screen. It was only recently that I started to wonder what it would be like to have adventures of my own.

When the interview was wrapping up, Mr. Meyers threw me another curveball. Do you have any questions for me? Do not ask about the smoke monster from Lost.

Um. I did not have questions. Of course. Crap. A question popped into my head. Why green uniforms? Mr. Myers’ brows rose and I babbled on. Because it’s the color of money and you want people to get used to giving you theirs? Or maybe because it’s the color of vegetables and you’re subliminally reminding people to pick up zucchinis? Wow, that was the vegetable my mind went to? Zucchinis? Obvious much?

Could I talk myself out of this job? I was sure going to try. Except Mr. Meyers only laughed and didn’t call me on the phallic places my mind went to. We just liked green.

The Meyers were family friends. Or maybe family BFFs was more accurate. If whole families could have BFFs, they were ours. Jim and Linda Meyers were practically my aunt and uncle, but I still had to interview for this job ‘for the experience.’ I think knowing them so well made it worse. I didn’t want to bomb the interview and take for granted that they’d hire me out of loyalty, but it was difficult to feign professionalism in front of people who had bathed me as a toddler.

Of course you’ve got the job, Neil, Jim told me warmly. I wished the Meyers were my own family. Then I’d have grocery store money and a family that calls me by my desired name. My parents really liked ‘Cornelius’ and still had the habit of sneaking my full name into conversations, sometimes when other people were around. They were the only ones that liked the name Cornelius. On the entire planet.

Thank you, I said and smiled at Mr. Meyers. I’m grateful to have this opportunity. My mom told me to say that.

He eyed me knowingly. It’s okay if you aren’t thrilled about working here. When I was your age, I’d rather lounge by the pool all day than work.

No, I tried. I’m super excited about... produce and, uh. Frozen food. Stop talking. Paper or plastic. That’s the eternal question. I winced. Okay, I wasn’t fooling anyone. This isn’t my dream job or anything, I admitted. And yet... I’m still a little nervous.

If I screwed up this incredibly low-pressure opportunity with people who knew me and loved me, what hope did I have at ever convincing strangers to hire me at something I actually liked doing?

It’s your first job. Being nervous is understandable. He leaned in and whispered conspiratorially. I’ll tell you a little secret. The first step for any job is always the same. He opened a drawer and pulled out some files. Paperwork.

More paperwork? Didn’t I do that when I applied?

He got out some forms from the files and chuckled. "There’s always more paperwork." Goodie.

When all the I’s were dotted and T’s were crossed on the paperwork, Jim asked if I knew what I wanted to be when I got older. Biting back a terse comment about how I thought the interview portion was over, I said, Grocery store manager?

He just raised an eyebrow.

"I