When Harper woke up the next morning, there was a voicemail on her phone. Either she hadn't heard her phone go off or she forgot to turn on the ringer. Either way, she stretched and stood up, grabbing her phone and playing the message.

"What's up, Crawford? Just want to make sure you're okay. I didn't see any assholes lingering outside your place or anything. Call me when you wake up. Have a good night. And by the way, you're a decent dancer. In fact, I would dance with you again. You know. If I had to."

Harper felt her lips curl up into a smile despite herself. Was she actually starting to like him? The warm, gooey feeling dripped inside of her like caramel and she couldn't push it away. She hesitated in calling him, however. She didn't know why, but the thought of calling him to talk to him not in a professional capacity made butterflies start to flutter out of their cacoons and fly around her stomach. Which was dumb since it reminded her of having a crush on someone in high school. She felt juvenile and foolish and this was the last thing she should feel.

"He's just concerned," she muttered to herself as she padded into the kitchen in order to grab herself some coffee. She needed coffee if she was going to wake up fully. "You can call him. He said to. And now I'm talking to myself like a totally sane person... Not."

She started making her coffee before grabbing her phone and immediately dialing Zach's number just to get it over with. There was a chance that he might be asleep. There was a chance he wouldn't answer. There was a chance he won't even recognize her number. There were lots of chances for a lot of different things. There was one possibility that he would actually answer.

And he did.

"Hello?"

"Hey." A beat, and then Harper rolled her eyes at herself. "It's Harper."

"Yeah, I know." She could hear a smirk in his voice and she rolled her eyes again.

"I'm calling you back."

"Okay."

Silence. Awkward silence hung between them and drove Harper completely up the wall. She glared at her coffee machine like it was someone else's fault and decided she should have had coffee in her before calling him back.

"Okay," she said, running her fingers through her hair. "Well, I'm fine so thanks again for yesterday. Have a good" -

"Do you want to grab breakfast?"

Well. That was surprising.

"What?"

"Well, I'm hungry," he explained. "I'm sure you're hungry. I owe you for last night. I'm new here. You're not. You can show me around."

"Oh." She cleared her throat. Her coffee was ready. She didn’t trust herself to pour a cup, afraid her fingers would shake and she would spill the hot liquid everywhere. She was already bad, drinking it in a stationary position. Now, holding a phone, being asked on a date – was it a date? – she wouldn’t know what to do with herself.

“You don’t owe me for last night,” she found herself saying before she could stop and think about it. “There’s nothing to owe”

“Yeah,” he corrected, his voice insistent. “There is. I don’t like to admit it but I was a jackass. I talk a lot. Even more when I drink. I said some dumb things because I’m trying to understand how a girl like you could end up with a guy like that douche.”

“I wasn’t a victim of circumstance, Zach,” she told him, though she wasn’t defending Bryan or even herself. “I know you might think you’re complimenting me by contrasting someone like me with Bryan, but honestly, it comes out snarky and judgmental. I dated him when I was young and in college, and even though we broke up only eight months ago, I’m a very different person than I was back then. I chose to be with Bryan. Each time I think about that choice – because I distinctly remember it like it was yesterday – my insides curl up and I literally want to wretch the contents of my stomach everywhere. People say don’t have regrets because things get you where you are. I say that’s all bullshit. Bryan was the biggest mistake of my life but it was a mistake I made and a mistake I stuck with.” Harper paused in order to catch her breath. Her eyes were shining with tears she refused to shed. When she regained more control of her voice, she took another breath. In a low voice, she said, “Bryan was different before we got serious, like all guys are. It wasn’t until we were serious that I realized how he truly was. By then, I was in too deep and my pride wouldn’t let me give up all the time I wasted with him. So I wasted even more time. Until I decided I was done.”

“What made you decide?” His voice was quiet and gentle, not pushy.

Harper swallowed. She had never told anybody this, not even her closest friends. “Honestly?” she asked.

“Honestly,” he said. “I want to know.”

“I hated myself when I looked into the mirror,” she said. The tears did fall now, rolling off her cheeks in slow tracks until they gathered at the tip of her chin. “I didn’t want to be her anymore. And the one thing I knew I needed to change was the person who made me feel awful about myself. And that was him.”

There was a heavy silence, and Harper shook her head at herself, ramming her palm into her forehead. She shouldn’t have told him. She should have accepted his date and kept her mouth shut. Dating 101: never talk about your ex, even if your date wanted to know.

Then, “So. Breakfast?”

They got off the phone with a plan to meet at a small mom and pop diner that had cheap food, was right on the beach, and would be quiet this early in the morning – especially on a Friday. Harper spent more time than usual deciding on what to wear – she decided on skinny jeans and an oversized white sweatshirt that dipped low in front. She tossed her hair up into a messy ponytail, and put on light makeup that might or might not emphasize her eyes. She grabbed her keys and drove past Fifteenth Street, parking in front of a small, beachside Catholic church. She got there first and decided to get out of the car and take a seat at the picnic benches in the sand, just in front of the diner. She grabbed one with an umbrella, just in case the sun decided to peak through the overcast sky.

The diner wasn’t as busy at it usually got on the weekends, especially during the summer. Since tourist season was simmering away into fall, there was a slight decline in beach visitors, which was what Harper preferred.

While she waited for Zach, her mind drifted back to last night – technically, this morning. She couldn’t help but replay the scene over and over again: Zach holding onto her, pulling her close so her back hit his chest; grabbing his neck with her arm and running her fingers through his hair; tilting her head away, causing Zach’s lips to brush her neck.

They had been dancing – Harper never danced!

She shook her head, crossing her arms over her chest and shifting her weight consistently in order to keep warm. Not only had they danced, but she told him everything. About her parents, at least. She told him about Bryan. She told him… a lot. More than she liked to tell. She didn’t understand how that happened. Maybe she was just tired and that gave way to poor, thoughtless choices. Maybe he had some kind of superpower. Maybe she trusted him already, which would be ridiculous and naïve.

“Hey.”

Harper spun around, only to see Zach standing there in board shorts, flip-flops, and a black v-neck.

“Aren’t you cold?” she asked, giving him a look as she stood up. She wasn’t sure if she should hug him or not.

“I’m from Toronto,” he said, his voice flat. Zach had no question about whether or not he should hug her – he pulled her into his arms without hesitation. Her face was buried in his chest and he smelled of rich cologne, masculine and fresh. Clean. She liked it. “This is not cold.”

He let his arms linger longer than necessary and she didn’t break away from him. He leaned down and kissed the top of her head.

“So,” he said, and they seemed to break apart simultaneously, “let’s grab some food. I’m starving.”

Harper’s stomach rumbled in response and she led him into the small restaurant. She didn’t worry about someone grabbing their bench – there were plenty of picnic tables with or without umbrellas that were still unoccupied.

The two ordered their food quickly – she ordered a Belguim waffle with fresh fruit and no whip cream and a cup of water, he ordered a Spanish omelet that came with a side of breakfast potatoes with a coffee – and Zach made sure to pay before Harper could even offer to split the check. Once his coffee was made with three creams and three sugars, they headed back out and took a seat on the same bench that overlooked the horizon. There was a crisp Newport Beach breeze that was typical for the beach suburb, and even though it was busy, it wasn’t overwhelming. There was enough space to breathe and relax.

“How did you know about this place?” he asked, twisting his torso so he faced her.

“My mom used to take me a while back when I was a kid every Sunday morning,” she explained, curling locks of hair behind her ear. “She used to call it our Mother-Daughter date. After she died, my grandmother would take me, but it wasn’t the same, you know?”

He nodded, his hands in the pockets of his board shorts. “You took me here,” he pointed out.

She nodded, looking at him from the corner of her eye. “Yes,” she agreed.

“Why?” he asked. “It was a special place for you and your mom. Why invite me to it?”

“Special places shouldn’t be kept hidden,” she said. “They should be shared. Just because I was emotional with my grandma doesn’t mean I will be with you. It’s been years since my parents died.”

“Yeah, but it doesn’t get any easier.”

“No, you’re right about that.”

“Zach!” the waitress called, holding a plastic tray filled with paper plates of steaming hot food. Zach waved his arm and she walked over to them in the sand before passing out their food.

When she was gone, Zach proceeded to dig in. Harper had to press her lips together to keep from laughing out loud at the spectacle he was making of himself. It was as though he hadn’t had any food in the past forty-eight hours. She knew hockey players needed the calories but it hadn’t hit her until that moment, staring at Zach. She shook her head, allowing herself to smile, before grabbing the syrup and dousing it on her waffle.

Breakfast was silent, for the most part. Harper and Zach were too busy eating to really make conversation, and that was okay with them. It wasn’t awkward or tense; it was relaxing and comfortable. Harper could see herself doing this again should the occasion call for it.

After they finished, Zach suggested they go for a walk. “I’m renting one of these homes,” he told her. “I’d love to see my neighborhood.”

Harper wasn’t sure if he was just saying that as an excuse to prolong their date – which he absolutely did not have to do – or if he was being genuine. Either way, she allowed him to take hold of her hand after they threw away their trash and walk with her up and down the Balboa boardwalk. He didn’t let go, and neither did she.