Sunday morning, Spencer was grateful to hit the waves as the sun was rising. This was what he needed, to get life back on track.

After wiping half a dozen times and getting drilled a few of those, he had to admit he didn’t have the drive to do this today. He grabbed his gear and headed back to the beach house.

The chill didn’t drill into his bones, though the ache of being pummeled by the waves did. It had been a long time since he’d performed so poorly.

It was a long time since he couldn’t get someone out of his head. The newness of the relationship still insisted this was different than with Mia. In a way, it was. Trina hadn’t betrayed him. She’d overreacted a few times, but so did he.

And he adored her company. And everything about her. He slammed the side of his fist against the house, but it didn’t adjust his mind. Didn’t clear her away.

Might as well go home.

He took a quick shower to wash off the sand and salt, then packed up his bag, to head back home. He took a circuit through the place, to make sure he wasn’t leaving anything behind that he’d need before the next trip. Not that he’d been here long enough for him to have pulled many things out, but it was habit.

In the bedroom, something caught his attention, and he whirled toward the flash of color. A red lace bra peeked out from under the bed.

That was fun taking off Trina.

Spencer wanted to hate the memory, but it made him smile. Until he thought of her wearing it for someone who wasn’t him. His scowl returned.

He should return it regardless. It was an expensive piece of clothing, and it was creepy to hang on to an ex’s underwear. He’d drop it in the mail on the way home.

Fuck it. He needed to see her. Make sure she was doing all right. Soothe the craving that itched to hear her voice. Trina was like the best kind of addiction, and he needed a fix.

Half an hour later, he was knocking on her apartment door. When she answered, her hair was pulled back, and she looked stunning. He wanted to wrap an arm around her waist and run his lips along her long, slender neck.

Instead, he handed her the folded lingerie. “I thought you might want this back.”

“Thanks.” Her cheeks flushed the same color as the lace.

Gorgeous. This was where he should tell her goodbye and good luck again. And leave. “Are you busy right now?”

She glanced over her shoulder, and the angle was enough to reveal a barren living room with boxes stacked in one corner. She looked back at him. “I should say yes, but if I scrub the walls any more, the paint may come off. Why?”

“I promised you a Star Wars movie. And there’s no point in seeing a movie without dinner after, so we can rave about how awesome it was. Can I kidnap you for the evening?” He should add Just as friends, but that was implied, wasn’t it?

“Yes.” Her smile warmed him more than the afternoon sun, and made him glad he left the offer as-is. “You can absolutely steal me away. Let me grab my shoes.”

She returned seconds later, and they left.

He itched to take her hand as they walked down to his truck. Instead, he shoved his hands in his pockets. This wasn’t making up. It wasn’t any sort of commitment. It was hanging out one last time.

*

TRINA DIDN’T HESITATE to accept Spencer’s offer. It meant more hurt tomorrow, but for today she wanted to feel good for a few hours.

At the theater, he cheered with her when the Star Wars theme music started, drawing glares from the handful of viewers sharing the room with them. He didn’t spoil anything, and when she clutched his hand during the climactic fight scene, he squeezed back.

They sat there until the credits finished rolling and the lights came on. She blinked at the change, though it wasn’t bright. Disappointment whispered through her when he took his hand back as they stood to leave.

But his palm on the small of her back, steering her down the street instead of toward his truck, was an okay replacement. The sun was setting, and a chill whipped through the air. She shivered at a sudden gust of wind.

He rubbed her arms, and it took the last of her willpower not to fall back against him and tug herself into a hug. Maybe this was a bad idea after all.

Her doubts slid to the back of her mind when he stopped next to a street vendor selling hot dogs. “What do you want on yours?” he asked.

She grinned. “Relish, mustard, ketchup.”

“Two,” he said to the vendor. A moment later, he handed her a foil-wrapped dog and pointed her to a nearby bench.

“What has you smiling so much?” Spencer asked.

Everything. This moment. I don’t want it to ever end. That was laying things on a bit strong. “When the last prequel movie came out, Tristan took me to see it, and this is what we did after. Good memories.” And this would be another, regardless of how the day ended.

“He hates the prequels.”

Trina’s smile grew. “But I loved Ewan McGregor, and he said if I insisted on watching shitty films, I needed the full experience. I never quite understood what that meant.”

“When the originals were re-released, we were in high school.” Spencer leaned back against the bench. “The three of us skipped school. One week for every movie. We’d watch the film, then make ourselves sick on hot dogs after. Best three weeks of my high school career. And possibly the only time in his life your brother’s eaten hot dogs. Or I thought so.”

“Only time plus one.” She liked hearing these stories. Being a part of Spencer’s past this way. It would be nice to have more of it.

Her silly crush had gone on too long. The sooner she got over it, the sooner they could be friends instead.

They could be friends, couldn’t they? She needed that, because the thought of never seeing him again hurt too much.

They chatted a little longer about everything and nothing. Their favorite movies and rituals. The best places in Salt Lake and Malibu to get cupcakes or beer.

When she couldn’t keep from shivering without hugging herself, Spencer insisted it was time to go home.

“I guess,” she said, unable to hide her disappointment.

The ride back to her place was quiet. That same kind of awkward she’d had with Mason. The way it needed to be.

Still, when they got back to her place, Spencer walked her to the front door.

They both hesitated, and she watched her feet shuffle back and forth. “I guess goodby?” she said.

He kissed her on the cheek. “For now. Best of luck with everything. Not that you need it. You’ve got skill and most people can’t say that.”

She didn’t trust herself to reply, so she focused on unlocking the door. Impulse rushed through her, and she spun and tossed her arms around his neck.

He squeezed back, and she didn’t want to let go. If he hugged her tightly enough, it might smoosh her broken pieces back into place long enough they’d stayed glue for a couple more hours.

She finally managed to step away, then pushed inside her apartment before she could say something she regretted.

After she closed the door, her hand hovered on the knob. She listened for the sound of his footsteps in the hall, until eventually they faded away.

She wanted to run after him. Chase him down and ask for one more kiss. One more night.

That would make things hurt worse when she had to leave, though. Why was she leaving, again?

She didn’t have that answer, but she knew it was a must. The screaming in her head insisting otherwise was wrong. She was a silly girl with a silly crush on an older man who wasn’t meant to be hers.

She locked the deadbolt, and went to bed.