Shore Thing

By Britt DeLaney

Roni and Dominic shared a summer in college working on the boardwalk. It was a shore thing, and without the sun, sand, and moonlight on the water, it probably wouldn’t have lasted—at least, that’s what Roni has told herself these last six years.

She's built a successful social media following as a Van Lifer traveling all over, but this trip, she decides to return to the shore town that held so many memories. Roni goes looking for a missing piece of herself but finding Dominic again changes everything.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Britt DeLaney
• Release date: Jul 5, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215641569

Britt DeLaney

Britt DeLaney lives and writes near Philadelphia. In her spare time she watches too much Netflix, eats too many Pop-Tarts, and is currently writing her ass off.

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BRITT DELANEY

© 2023 Britt DeLaney

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.

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Philadelphia, PA

www.gazepublishing.com

Shore Thing/Britt DeLaney —1st ed.

DEDICATION

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This one is for Brittany, 

who reminds me that I do, in fact, matter.

1

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RONI PULLED INTO the parking space, killed the engine, took a deep, fortifying breath, and allowed her mind to focus on the most important thing in her life at this very moment.

She really, really needed to pee.

Her bladder was at absolute critical mass and was in imminent danger of rupture if she didn’t see to it immediately. But how the hell was she going to straighten up and walk without unclenching everything that was holding back the flood?

She was an idiot for trying to delay the inevitable. Honestly, she didn’t even have to wait this long—she did have a dry flush toilet in the van, after all, but the thing was a pain to get out and a nuisance to deal with and she had been so sure she could manage. What started as a twinge at the edge of town had morphed into a full-on tidal wave ready to overwhelm any person or land mass in the near vicinity.

So sexy, she mumbled to herself. So totally hot. If your followers could only see you now, peeing your pants like a big girl.

She had a cringe moment when she realized some of her followers would pay money to see that and had even offered as much. Twisted freaks.

It was now or never. She had planned to make it to the public bathrooms on the boardwalk, but they were three blocks down and she couldn’t find a parking spot any closer. Luckily, she knew just where to go.

The steps up to the boardwalk were pure agony. Every jostle and tightening of her stomach muscles set her bladder screaming, and her jaw was clenched so tight it was a wonder her teeth didn’t crack.

She mounted the last step and lurched—it could not be considered walking—down the boardwalk, past the saltwater taffy store, past the arcade, then she grabbed the frame of the open doorway and launched herself into Ryan’s on the Beach, a bar with the best damn wings at the Jersey shore.

To her great relief, she didn’t know anyone currently behind the bar, and they were busy enough not to notice the girl with the twisted expression and clenched thighs staggering to the back of the dining area..

He wasn’t here.

Of course, he wasn’t. He was in California somewhere. He had his life all planned out and he was doing it. 

Why was she even looking for him when she knew better? When she really, really had to pee?

There had better not be a line.

It was two-thirty in the afternoon. Lunch rush was over and there wasn’t a huge crowd here. It was May—a week before Memorial Day. No sunblocked throng to get in her way.

What if he was home visiting? 

Almost there. Almost—

The women’s bathroom was occupied. 

No! her bladder shrieked. Roni’s legs began shaking. She tried the knob again—slowly and gently—she didn’t want to be an asshole about it. Definitely locked. She would just have to risk cascading organ failure and wait.

What would he look like now? Six years had certainly changed her. She had longer hair now, and the reddish-brown locks no longer ended in hot pink tips.

Back then his hair had that careless beach boy look, windblown and streaked white-blonde between the darker blond parts. The blue eyes always stood out against the tanned skin of his face. He had been thin but tightly muscled, with a face often mistaken for being a teenager. He'd hated that.

Did he look older now? How had he evolved and who did he become? These were thoughts that played in an endless loop ever since she decided to come back here.

But she didn’t choose to park near Ryan’s to find all this out. She chose Ryan’s because she knew where to pee. 

She heard a flush. Praise the Lord and pass the toilet paper. She watched the door to the women’s room, shifting from one leg to the other, biting down on her lip and clenching up hard at the sound of water running in the sink.

Please oh please oh please . . .

Explosion was imminent. She was at DefCon One and it was about to get really, really ugly. She clenched her fist, partly in agony, and partly in prep to beat unashamedly on the door.

Her head whipped to the side as the door to the men’s room started to open instead. Screw it, she was going. 

Coming through, she gritted out, reaching to shove the blocking body out of the way with one hand as the other clutched her stomach, eyes focused on her legs to be sure nothing was trickling down.

Hey!

That’s all he had to say. One word. She’d know that voice anywhere. Her head snapped up in shock.

In the space of a heartbeat, Veronica Powell and Dominic Ryan were reunited.

And then she pissed all over his shoes.

2

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ONE BEER AND one change of pants later, Roni was seated at Ryan’s in a corner table, determined to keep her eyes on her plate full of french fries.

It’s not that bad, y’know, Dominic said around a mouthful of chicken wing. You think I’ve never had anyone hit me with body fluids in this place? I could tell you horror stories.

She raised a brow. I know. I have plenty of not-so-fond memories.

"I’m not one of those, I hope. Is that why you peed on me? Or are you just into that now?

She finally looked up. Pig.

This was said with a smirk. Dominic certainly hadn’t lost his snark.

Sorry—couldn’t resist. As you can see— He swept out a hand to encompass the bar around them. Nothing much has changed around here.

Still the best wings in New Jersey?

You have to ask?

How are Ma and Pops? And the boys?

All still here, he said. And still regular pains in my ass.

Despite the occasional body fluids, she said, my memories of Ryan’s are mostly good. That summer was one of the best in my life.

His eyes met hers. For me, too.

She looked away—not quite ready to revisit all of those memories just yet.

So anyway, she continued. I decided it was time to come back.

His eyes lit up at that. You’re here for the summer? Do you need a job?

Hopefully not. She swirled a fry in ketchup. I’m a Van-Lifer now.

A Van-Lifer? He looked confused a moment before it dawned on him. You live out of your van?

And I travel full time, she replied. Which means sometimes I really need a pit stop. Her cheeks reddened with embarrassment. "I am never going to live this down, am I?

Nope, he said cheerfully. So you live in your van as a traveling International Sales and Business Development consultant?

You remembered my college major?

He shrugged. I was impressed. Does it not pay that well? I figured by now you’d be in some McMansion in suburbia. What happened?

Life, she sighed.

Ah. Life. He nodded, biting into another chicken wing. I hear that’s fatal.

Yeah. She went back to swirling her fry. There was an awkward pause. 

So what brings you and your rolling home back to Wildwood? he asked.

I’m working my way up the east coast for a series I’m doing on shore towns. I started in Florida back in March, Myrtle Beach in April, Maryland in May, and I plan to be in Maine when the leaves change color. I have a travel vlog. That’s—

He held up a hand. I know what that is. Are you a YouTuber?

She nodded. "And any other social media I can spread myself thin over. My channel is Hot Chick, Cool Van."

"So you’re an influencer?" He made air quotes with his fingers.

Yeah, and by the way, I hate that word, she confessed. I mean, it’s nice to get comped stuff, but I really only whore myself out on the channel to pay for gas and food.

No shame in that, Dominic said. I can think of a lot of worse ways you could earn your money as a sexy homeless woman.

Roni looked down at her fries again, trying not to let him see what that compliment did to her. This was Dominic—and he was a guy who liked to flirt with just about anyone with tits. She learned that the hard way during their summer together. But damn, he still looked good. Better, even. The lean and lanky lifeguard had packed on some muscle and those shoulders were broader now. His face had filled in, looking less boyish and more edge-of-dangerous. It was one hell of a package.

So.

So, she echoed.

Insert awkward pause here, he said wryly and took a drink of his beer.

She huffed a laugh. What about you? she asked. Are you married? Kids? Taking a break from feature films?

He shook a finger at her. You remember my major, too.

She smiled self-consciously. Yeah.

He pushed back in his chair, taking in a deep breath. No wife anymore. No kids. No feature films. Just me back here at the family biz, tending bar and unloading delivery trucks. 

No wife anymore? Did you pay a hit man or divorce her?

Thought about the first, believe me, he said with a grimace. It would have been cheaper. I divorced her three years ago.

That rots. How long were you together?

It was a whirlwind romance, he said, flourishing a hand in the air. I moved to L.A. after film school, trying to work my way into the industry. I did all right. I wasn’t working on blockbusters, but I was working steady, and getting bigger and bigger projects. She was a hot not-so-talented actress, and I was thinking with my dick. I married her in Vegas after dating for five months. It never occurred to me she was using me to make connections and meet directors and producers.

Another sad tale from tinsel town, Roni said.

Pretty much. He took a drink of his beer. She fucked off to Europe to work on some art film with an Italian producer. It was a piece of shit, and last I heard she’s modeling in Japan for car shows.

How long were you together?

Married? Not even a year. But it was like dog years—it felt like it was seven times as long.

And then you came back here?

I just got tired, y’know? Everybody’s got an angle out there, everybody’s shaking your hand while they’re crossing their fingers behind their back. He ran a hand through his hair. I decided to come back here for a while, and then maybe head to New York.

She picked up her last fry. And did you?

Not yet. Might still someday. Maybe.

"A man with