“HEY MOM,” I ANSWER MY phone, turning down the radio. “What’s up?”
“Hi, baby.” I haven’t seen my mom all day—she’s been running around with my grandma. “I’m stopping by the mall on my way home, is there anything you wanted me to pick up?”
It’s four days before Christmas and the malls are hell on Earth. Brit’s at the mall, working, and has already texted me no less than a dozen times telling me the horrors of the day.
It’s ten past one.
“Nah, I went down to Jensen and picked up a few things.” Drove over an hour to another mall because the mall in my town is dying, with barely any shops while the one down South has ten times as many. The drive is a bitch, but my trunk is full of gifts to be wrapped and stuck under the tree. “Now I’m going to stop at Beans and Cream before I head home.”
“Is Brit coming over tonight?” Usually Brit and I do a weekly movie night on Sunday, but because of the holiday rush we had to push it to today, since she isn’t closing tonight.
“Yep.” I turn my blinker on, a driving skill people here are seriously lacking, and pull into the turn lane, waiting for the green arrow. “She’s coming around six.”
“That’s good. You two haven’t been seeing a lot of each other lately.” Mom’s not saying it to make me feel bad, but that doesn’t stop the guilt from happening anyway. It’s true I haven’t seen Brit as much as I’m used to. I’ve been a shitty best friend.
Usually during winter break, Brit and I are attached at the hip.
But this break, I’ve hardly seen her.
I have, however, seen a lot of Bash. Not just in the mornings for our early surf sesh, one neither of us have missed since the morning I woke up in his bed, but we sometimes meet for lunch too, or he cooks us food at his place. Homeboy is a really good cook. And yes, most of the time there is kissing and groping going on. Okay, all the time that happens now.
He’s been different since I stayed at his place.
When we surf, he’s pushing me. Challenging me. Making me go more at his level than for fun. Which, until he started pushing, I realized is what I had been doing for the past few years. I had been dedicated, yes, but I haven’t accessed the potential inside.
Now, because of his lessons, I’ve been more tired. More sore. But happier.
And not just from the surfing.
I still see Brit at Trivia Night, with the gang, and we meet up for dinner or lunch at the mall once a week depending on her shift. We just haven’t gotten to hang out for a longer period of time. We both blame the holiday season. Whatever free time she has gets sucked into more hours for work. Sometimes her boss even works her past her weekly max.
And I know for a fact she’s seen Dez a lot this break.
I’m not the only one hanging out with a man-friend.
“Yeah, but we have movie night tonight and Trivia Night tomorrow,” I remind her as I pull into the first parking spot I see. As I hang up, I can’t help but wonder what exactly Dez’s plan is with my best friend. All I know is if she gets hurt because of him, he’s going to get more than a sarcastic comment. He’s going to get my claws.
“Sup, stranger?” Brit says as she leans in my doorway, wearing an ugly Christmas sweater that features a sad and deformed reindeer. She’s holding a bag of tacos. “I brought the goods.”
“You can stay then,” I smile, shifting the laptop off my lap and onto my bed. “I got the movies.”
I point to the stack of movies on my desk. Yes, I still buy movies. If I love it enough, I buy it to add it to my physical collection. I even still have a box full of my childhood movies on VHS and a VHS player that still works.
I’m a child of the 90s. What can I say.
“Superheroes then space battles?” Brit asks, holding up two of the movie cases.
“Sounds good.” I make grabby hands for the taco goods, which she hands over on her way to put the disc in the DVD player. “I see you didn’t kill anyone today.”
“Ha-ha,” she deadpans before flopping on the mattress next to me. “I just don’t see how people can be so dense. I mean, you’re really going to leave your leaking drink on a pair of white jeans or try to return something that has clearly been worn and washed multiple times?”
“Both of those happened today?”
“Just a fraction of what went down. My manger went back in the stock room like three times within five minutes just because she had to scream. She said it was very therapeutic.”
She presses play and sprawls out next to me. I pass her the bag of food.
We munch on tacos while my screen gets double-teamed by hunky heroes. There’s not a more attractive sight.
Unless, of course, they’re shirtless. On the beach.
Then I’d really be a goner.
“Imagine if men actually looked like that,” Brit says, some lettuce flying on my duvet from her taco.
“Brit, you are aware that they are real people, correct?”
“Correct.” She takes a bite of the taco. “But you know what I mean. Men in real life. Like where are the everyday hot men? The ones you meet at the grocery store and flirt with only to find out you two are actually neighbors.”
She’s describing a romance novel. Probably one she just read.
I’ll have to get the title from her later.
“What’s up?” I lift an eyebrow.
“Nothing.” She shrugs. “Everything’s fine. Why wouldn’t it be?”
“Yeah, okay. What’d Dez do?”
She glares. “What makes you think he did anything?”
I stare at her, letting her words process for the both of us before answering. “You just got really defensive when I brought up his name. Proof. Now spill.”
She doesn’t. Instead she counters with, “Tell me about Bash.”
“Why? You already know everything that’s happened.” I call or text her when we are up to bat and get on a base. Although, I’ve never had a clear idea on what base means what.
Except a home run.
Pretty sure that means sex.
Which hasn’t happened yet.
“I doubt I know everything.” She rolls her eyes.
“Pretty sure you do.” I laugh. “Unless you know something I don’t. But, anyway, spill. Tell me about Dez and what he did now.”
“Nothing.” She sighs. “And that’s the point. He hasn’t done anything. We’ve barely texted or seen each other since the last trivia night he showed up for, where he spent the entire night flirting with that waitress and ignoring me. So why am I so upset over this?”
“Because you like him, dork,” I tell her. “And he treats you like a secret he keeps from the world. Which is fucked up.”
She cringes. “I really don’t want to. I want to go back in time and shake high school me for ever finding him attractive. I want to tell younger me that his cock might be impressive but his attitude isn’t.”
“Here, here.” I raise my half-eaten taco in support.
But Brit isn’t done. She’s on a roll now.
“And why did I even think this time would be different? Because he noticed me at a party? Really? Am I wanting a boyfriend so bad that I’ll put up with all this less than stellar crap for what? An hour or two of play every two weeks?”
She takes a deep breath, filling her lungs with energy to continue her rant. “It’s like I’m wanting to live out a high school dream of mine, like I’m making high school me proud. I shouldn’t care if I make her proud. I should be making the me today proud.”
“And are you proud?” I ask, but I already know the answer.
She shakes her head. “I shouldn’t have to put all this work into whatever the hell this actually is. Head games aren’t my thing. Either you tell me you like me or tell me you don’t. I shouldn’t be freaking out that I’ve done something wrong for him to ignore me.”
“You haven’t done anything wrong,” I reassure her. Dez has always been a player. I think he had one serious girlfriend in high school. And that relationship lasted maybe three weeks.
If he comes to the next trivia night and flirts with that damn waitress again, I’m fork stabbing him. It’ll be more painful than those dull knives. Brit doesn’t deserve the shit that is running through her head over this.
“Don’t let him get to you. You’re only here for a few more weeks before you go back to Orlando for school. Winter break is a time to de-stress from finals and just have fun before the spring semester starts.”
She nods, a small smile on her lips. “I like having fun. Sometimes I think I want to have a relationship. But then I start talking to a guy, like Dez, and just assume that it’ll lead to dating. When in actuality it doesn’t.”
“What’s this relationship you speak of?”
“Oh, I forgot. I’m talking to the girl that runs from commitment.”
“I don’t run. I avoid,” I clarify.
I “dated” a few guys back in high school but never have had a serious boyfriend. And this time, I don’t even know what I’m doing with Bash. Am I dating him? I have no idea, but I’m trying to take it day by day with him. Not overthinking and keeping the freak outs to a minimum. So far, it’s been working. “So what are you going to do?”
“Would you judge me if I said I wanted to try and keep having fun with Dez?” Brit tilts her head down, looking at her hands in her lap.
“Of course not. But just because you want to have fun with him doesn’t mean you shouldn’t make him work for it.”
“Oh, you know I will.” She finally smiles. “And I’m going to tell him things have to be exclusive if he wants the all access pass to my fun town. No other hook ups while we’re doing our thing.”
“And if he doesn’t go for it?” I will always support my best friend. With anything. It’s me and her against the world.
“Then he doesn’t get a pass to my fun town.” She shrugs, still smiling, but her tone isn’t light-hearted to match.
I pinch my brows trying to figure out what’s off when my phone vibrates against my leg. Brit spares me another quick glance before she turns back to the movie as I read the message on my screen.
I bite my lip as my eyes move across the screen. My leg starts to bounce, shaking the mattress and Brit.
“What?” She puts a hand on my leg, halting the movements.
I ignore the slight annoyance in her tone and debate asking. Wondering if she’d be down. Wondering if I can do it.
“How do you feel about cutting movie night short, since we’ve already finished all the food, and doing something different?”
“Well, we already are having it on a different day than our usual Sunday so I think we can cut it short. Depending on the offer. Is it better?”
“I think it is. But if you don’t want to go then we don’t have to.”
“Does it involve water?” My best friend knows me so well.
I would never leave my bed at nine o’clock at night if it didn’t have to do with water or water activities. Or alcohol. “Yep.”
I shove past the cotton balls pressing against my throat as I answer. My love of the water has never wavered, but talking about something and actually doing it are two different things. I have to pump myself up. I’ve gone paddleboarding a few times after my accident, but never at night.
Going out surfing in the morning as the sun tries to rise provides some light. The moon shares less.
I’m tired of letting fear run my life. I’m going to do this. Hopefully.
“Are you going to tell me what it is?”
“Paddleboarding with glow sticks.” I try to keep my voice calm as a mix of apprehension and excitement builds, but hardly succeed. Brit whoops, jumping to her feet on the bed.
I laugh and join her. Her excitement is making mine grow, making it outweigh the fear. I won’t miss out on memories because I’m nervous. I can’t. I can’t let the past win.
We’ve had this activity on our bucket lists since high school. But after my accident happened we kind of let it fall to the back burner.
Until now.
“I have one of your bathing suits in my closet,” I tell her, jumping off my bed, grabbing my essentials. With my bikini in hand, I start changing as Brit dashes into the closet for her own. After I put it on, I shimmy into a long sleeve t-shirt and cropped leggings.
It might be December, but it’s not even below seventy tonight.
Brit comes out wearing a similar outfit, but instead of leggings she wears shorts and a t-shirt, the strings of her bikini top peeking out of the shirt’s collar.
I pack an extra wetsuit from my closet in a canvas bag, throwing my wallet in there as well.
“The paddleboards and the LED lights are still in Geer’s garage, right?” I ask as we walk toward the front door and to my car.
She nods. “I already asked him to put the lights on our boards for us.”
A while ago we bought these colorful lights for our paddleboards. You put them around the edges of the board and the colors light up the water under you. They looked too freaking cool to pass up.
Now I’m glad they’re not going to waste.
After we drive to Geer’s, and secure the paddleboards to the top of my hood, Brit finally asks where we’re going and who invited us.
It’s about time. I was beginning to wonder when she’d grow curious.
“Bash invited us.” Which is why I felt so weird asking her if she wanted to do something else tonight. I didn’t want it to seem I was bailing on her for my guy.
Is he my guy?
Do I want him to be my guy?
Gah, I feel the hives forming.
But Brit doesn’t seem bothered by who invited us at all. She just smiles and nods. “Whose house are we going to?”
I show her the address he texted me that is programed into my GPS.
She reads the address and curses.
“What?”
“That’s Dez’s parents’ house.” She mumbles something about them moving two months ago.
I forgot. “Shit.”