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MidReal Story
The Summer of Us
Scenario:a young adult strangers to friends to lovers romance book set in a beachy town in coastal carolina
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Morgan Carter
sarcastic, and loyal. Morgan struggles with her past after her mother's death, but she finds solace in her friendship with Logan and her job at the diner. She navigates a complicated relationship with her father, who is emotionally distant. Morgan's life changes when she meets Jace, a charming surfer who challenges her views on love and relationships.
Jace Mitchell
adventurous, and charismatic. Jace meets Morgan while surfing and sparks an instant attraction between them. Despite his carefree nature, he shows genuine interest in Morgan and challenges her initial reluctance to engage in casual relationships. Jace brings excitement to Morgan's life as they explore the coastal town together.
Logan Thompson
supportive, and dependable. Logan works at his family's diner and shares a close bond with Morgan. He provides emotional support during Morgan's difficult times after her mother's death and helps her through struggles with her father. Logan becomes a source of comfort for Morgan as they navigate their lives together in the small coastal town.
Morgan
Three years ago…
"Hey, Mom."
I walked into the kitchen, dropping my backpack to the floor.
"Hey, sweetie," she said, turning from the stove.
"I’m home."
"Duh," I replied, leaning against the counter.
"What’s for dinner?"
"I was thinking chicken parmesan. How does that sound?"
"Dead on."
I snagged a piece of bread from the counter.
"Can I help?"
"Nope. I think I can handle it."
She smiled and turned back to the skillet.
"Is Dad home yet?"
"No," she said, "he should be home any minute though. He had an early meeting at the country club or some shit like that."
I rolled my eyes.
"Yeah, figures."
"Watch it, young lady," she warned.
"I’m just saying…he’s got to stop using his UNOs to bid on golf trips."
She laughed.
"Well, at least he’s using them for something."
I hopped up onto the counter, snagging another piece of bread.
"You really think he’ll win again this year?"
"Nope, not this time," she said confidently.
"Someone will finally call his bluff."
"Oh man, that would be awesome," I said, imagining the look on his face.
"The annual ‘I didn’t win anything’ speech is getting old."
"Enough trash talking about your father, we’ve got a better topic."
She pointed a spatula at me.
"What happened with Jake?"
I fidgeted with the bread in my hands, tearing it into tiny pieces.
I tried to act nonchalant, but I was practically bouncing on the counter.
Mom raised her eyebrows expectantly, abandoning the chicken to give me her full attention.
"Well…"
I shifted my weight nervously, trying to come up with a way to tell her.
"Jake caught me after third period. He was shifting his weight around like he had ants in his pants or something and then blurted out that he’s taking me to the dance."
Mom squealed like a thirteen-year-old girl at a Justin Bieber concert.
"Shut up!"
I laughed and rolled my eyes.
She ignored me and continued to bounce around like a fool.
"Okay, Mom, you can stop now."
She froze, her arms still raised in the air.
"What? I’m just excited for you."
"Yeah, well try not to get too excited. It’s just a stupid dance," I said coolly, trying not to smile at her antics.
"Oh please," she said, turning back to the skillet.
"You’ve been crushing on him for years. Now he’s finally asked you out."
She flipped over the chicken breasts and winced.
"Shit!"
The kitchen was suddenly filled with the smell of burning chicken.
She quickly grabbed the skillet off of the stove and dumped it into the sink.
"What are you doing?"
"I’m saving dinner," she said as she turned on the faucet.
"It’s not burned that bad."
"Yeah, well it is," she said as she scrubbed furiously at one of the breasts. "Fine, but what are we going to do now? We can’t eat this."
"We can if you scrape off the burnt bits," she replied as she handed me one of the breasts and a knife.
"Great. Just what I wanted to do with my afternoon. Scrape burnt chicken."
"Well, you could go shopping for your dress. That would be fun," she said hopefully.
"Yeah, but then I’d have nothing to wear," I pointed out logically.
"Which is why I need your help."
I rolled my eyes and continued scraping blackened bits from the breast in front of me.
"I don’t know, Mom. It’s only a week away. Can we even get anything by then?"
"Yeah, but we’ll have to order online," Mom said thoughtfully as she continued working on her piece of chicken.
"Hmm…"
"What?"
"I don’t know…"
"I overheard Dad on the phone last night," I said, lowering my voice.
Mom paused, her eyes narrowing slightly.
"He mentioned something about a surprise for you, and it sounded big."
"Ooh," she said, leaning against the counter and giving me her full attention.
"What else did you hear?"
"Well, he said something about reservations and special arrangements," I said, trying to remember exactly what I’d heard.
"But that’s about it. He hung up when he saw me in the doorway."
Mom wiped her hands on her apron and walked over to where I was sitting.
She stood next to me and leaned against the counter, pressing for more information.
"Did he say what it was about?"
"Nope, but it sounded big. He said something about how he was going to make it extra special this year."
"Ooh, that sounds intriguing," Mom said, a sparkle in her eyes.
"Do you think he’s planning something for our anniversary next month?"
I shrugged.
"I don’t know, but that’s a possibility."
"Well, if it is, I know exactly what he’s going to do," Mom said confidently.
"He’s going to take us to the beach for a picnic. It’s our traditional anniversary dinner."
"Oh yeah, that makes sense," I agreed as I tossed a piece of burnt chicken into the trash can.
"That does sound like Dad. He loves to make things more complicated than they have to be."
Mom went back to scraping the burnt pieces off of the chicken breast in front of her.
"Maybe we can even get him to tell us tonight at dinner." "Oh yeah, right. Like that’s going to happen," I replied skeptically.
The house phone rang loudly from its place on the wall.
Mom jumped at the sound and then turned quickly to grab the phone.
"Hello?" she asked hopefully.
"Maybe it’s your father calling with more details."
"Hello?" she asked again, sounding less hopeful than before.
She paused for a moment before sighing loudly and slamming down the receiver.
"It’s just a telemarketer," she announced as she went back to scraping the chicken breast in front of her.
