by Lauren Helms
I smirk. She jumps when she sees me standing there. “Shit, I didn’t know you were there.” Her face reddens. “How long have you been there?”
I know what she’s asking, and I don’t hide the slow grin that covers my face. She must think I got an eyeful because the soft shade of red on her cheeks cranks up a notch. I chuckle and put her at ease. “I headed over after hearing the horn.”
She sighs. “Oh, good. I didn’t think about the fact I was still in my surf suit when I agreed to breakfast, so I had to change in my car.” She looks up at me from her seat, and I reach out my hand to help her out. She takes it, and a jolt of electricity shoots up my arm at the connection. She smiles and grips my hand harder as she raises from the car. I pull her and it has her standing right in front of me. Toe to toe, chest to chest.
“Hi,” I say, pulling my stare away from her lips to look in her eyes.
“Hi.” Her voice is breathy and soft. Then her stomach grumbles, and I chuckle. “Let’s get some food.”
I turn, still holding her hand, and gently yank her behind me before letting her hand drop. We find Garland at a booth, sitting smack in the middle of one side. I slide into the opposite side and Kelly follows suit.
“I was beginning to worry.” Garland smiles.
“I had to change. It wasn’t an easy feat in the car.” She giggles, and Garland gives her a cheesy smile in return. While I know deep down he would never go after a girl I’m into, I want to punch him for the grin.
I look down at my menu and try to decide what to order. When Kelly orders the Surfer’s Deluxe, I’m reminded how she had no qualms about eating all the fried goodness I ordered at the club. I’m impressed that a tiny thing like her can consume all that food.
“Make that two,” Garland tells our server. “Surfing makes me hungry. Eggs, bacon, hash browns, hotcakes, and biscuits and gravy is really calling to me.” He hands over his menu.
“I hear ya!” Kelly adds.
“So, Kelly, you live here in Hermosa?” Garland asks. It’s not lost on me that he’s the one making small talk.
“No, I live in Culver City. My best friend and her husband live here, and I visit them on the weekends. I mostly come to surf, but I enjoy time with my girl.” She toys with the straw in her glass of OJ while she talks.
“Nice. We’re in Culver, too,” he replies, “Well, it’s where I live and work, that is.” He raises an eyebrow at me. I can feel Kelly’s questioning stare, but I just grunt and take a drink of my coffee. Garland shakes his head but continues his interrogation.
“What do you do?” he asks her.
“I work at an accounting firm. It’s on the main stretch. You?” she volleys back.
“We work at Lasso. It’s right there, too.” He sits back with a huge shit-eating grin on his face. “Talk about a small world. We probably get our coffee at the same café.” In unison, they both say, “The Melting Moon.” And then they laugh before Garland’s face slackens. “Holy shit. I know why you look familiar.”
I perk up, and she cocks her head, waiting for his reason.
“About a month ago, there was a couple at the Moon. They were fighting and a woman fell into them. That was you, wasn’t it?” I slide my attention toward her, and she hangs her head and sighs. When she lifts her head, she isn’t blushing, but grinning.
“Ugh, what are the chances you’d be there to witness that?” she asks.
“It was the highlight of our day. You remember that, Ben?”
Nodding, I say, “Yeah, I’m sorry that happened to you.” I chew on my lip, thinking back through our encounters. I twist my lip to fight a smile before asking, “How does a girl like you—always tripping into people—glide so gracefully through the water?”
Garland hoots. Kelly scrunches her nose in mock offense, then laughs before answering. “Honestly, I have no idea why I’m so damn clumsy sometimes.”
Just as our food is placed in front of us, I laugh and lean in to bump her shoulder, letting her know I’m just joshing her.
We dig into our meals, causing the conversation to slow for all of about five minutes before Garland throws me under the bus.
“So, Kel—can I call you Kel? I need to clear the air.” He leans back, placing his fork next to his stack of fluffy pancakes.
“Only if I can call you Gar,” she replies deadpan.
“I’ll allow it.” He nods. “Do you have a boyfriend?”
I hold my breath while I wait for her to answer.
“Uh, well, I appreciate your forwardness. I do not.” She grins.
Pushing air out my nose, I mask my relief by taking a sip of coffee.
Garland’s smugness clouds my vision. “I don't know if you’ve noticed, but my boy, Ben, has been a bit grumpy thinking you’re already spoken for.”
My mouth drops where it hangs while I gather my thoughts. Snapping it shut, I hiss, “Spoken for? What century do you live in, man?”
“Hardy har. I call it like it is. Now the air is clear, and it smells like teen spirit. You’re welcome.”
I grumble while Kelly bumps me with her shoulder. “It’s because I mentioned the date, wasn’t it?” she asks. I shift my head and catch her gorgeous smile light up her face. “It was a blind date, and he ended up running after his ex-girlfriend in hopes of winning her back.”
Suddenly, I feel overprotective and angry. Why are people always putting this woman in awkward situations?
“I… Wow, I’m sorry to hear your date sucked. But, I’m also glad it did.” I squint at my own words and she giggles. The sound is melodic, and I would do anything to hear the sound again.
“So now we’ve gotten that out of the way, no more grumpy Ben,” she says, making a pouty face. I have the urge to wrap my arm around her and pull her into my side, but I refrain.
“No more grumpy Ben,” I repeat mockingly. I hear a snort from the peanut gallery.
Our food demands our attention again, but as we push plates away from our stuffed stomachs, she hits me with the questions I avoided earlier.
“You never answered. Do you live in Culver City? You work at Lasso, right?” She shifts her body toward me, giving me her full attention.
“I’m on a contracting job with Lasso. I actually live in Chicago.” I hold my gaze, waiting for the disappointment to come when she finds I’m not local.
Her eyes widen. “Chicago. Wow.” There it is.
“Dude, tell her about your day job,” Garland interjects.
“Yeah, tell me,” she heckles me.
“I’m a professional gamer.” Per usual, confusion sets in on her face. “As in video games. I compete in team and solo tournaments. Mostly Call of Battle, but a handful of others, too.”
She chews her lip. “Interesting.”
“Ben ‘Fortify’ Ford is one of the top players in the world right now,” Garland brags on my behalf. In the video game industry, it’s a big fucking deal, but right now, in this moment, it’s not.
“Yeah,” I murmur. My heart plummets deep into my gut. This is a normal response when I tell people what I do. Up next is some shitty comment about me not having a “real job.”
“I didn’t even know that was a career. That’s really cool. But then, that’s coming from a girl who has no idea what the hell I want to do with my own career. What is it you’re doing with Lasso?”
I’m momentarily stunned at her words but recover quickly. “Voice-overs for video games.”
“Ohhh, that’s fun.” Then her eyes light up. “I bet you’d make one hell of a narrator for romance books.”
Garland chokes on his drink, and I snort. “Really?”
Her expression turns serious “Oh my God, yes! If you have a sexy enough voice to make women’s favorite book boyfriends come to life in their ears, readers would pay you to read the damn phone book.”
I chuckle at how serious she is. “Well, maybe I’ll look into it.”
The plates are cleared soon after, and Kelly peers down at her phone. “Oh, shit. I
’ve gotta get going.” She looks sad, and I can’t blame her. I’m not thrilled our time is coming to an end.
“Oh, yeah. Right,” I mumble, sliding out of the booth.
“I need to pay for my meal first.” She sounds dejected.
“No way. I’ve got it covered.” I smile and she returns it, but I can’t help noticing she looks a little sad.
I slide out of the booth and she follows. As I turn to slide back in, Garland’s eyes are about to bulge out of his head. He mouths vehemently, “Number! Get her number!” And I nod.
“Kelly, can I have your number?” It just sputters from my mouth like an assault of words. Smooth, man. Real smooth.
Relief fills her eyes, and a playful smile dances across her lips. “I honestly thought you were gonna let me go again without asking.”
Tossing my hands up, I say, “In my defense, I thought you were coming back at the club. I thought I had time.”
She clucks her tongue. “Touché.” She holds out her hand in a give me manner. “I’ll put it in your phone.”
I reach into my pocket for my phone and come up empty-handed. Trying the other pocket, I mumble a fuck. “It’s in the car.”
She chortles, and fucking Garland Thorpe smacks his head with his hand and mutters, “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“Here.” She leans over the table and grabs a napkin from the dispenser and digs out a sharpie from her tiny purse. “I’ve never written my number on a napkin before, so consider yourself a lucky guy.” She slides her digits toward me, and I tap my index finger on the napkin.
“This is going in my phone as soon as I’m back in the car.”
She gives me one last sexy-as-sin smile. “I hope you do.” Then she waves and walks away.
“Fuck, you’re a hot mess for this woman, bro.” Garland shakes his head while the server drops the bill off at our table.
“I got this, you asshat,” I mumble, but he reaches across the table to snag the receipt out of my hand.
“It’s all on me, remember? Business.” His tone’s annoyed.
“There was nothing business about this meal. Plus, I’m paying for Kelly’s meal.” I jerk the black receipt book away from him, and his hand drops, knocking over my half-empty glass of water.
“Shit,” we both cringe. Alarm erupts from my body as the napkin with Kelly’s phone number soaks up most of the water.
“Fuuuckk.” I snag the soggy paper and hold it up, far from the table. A massive black hole takes root in my gut as I see the last four digits have morphed into blurred black marks.
“What are the chances, man?” Garland sits back in his seat, staring at the destroyed napkin in as much disappointed shock as I am.
Was this a fucking sign from the universe, or what?
6
Kelly
He never called.
Not the day we had breakfast. Not in the days after, either. No, it’s been two weeks and Ben still hasn’t called. The disappointment hangs over me like a sad, grumpy storm cloud. It reminds me that this isn’t the first time I’ve felt disappointed over a guy I don’t even know.
I gave him my number, though. I wrote it on a freaking napkin. I must have gotten the wrong impression when I thought he was into me. I guess I was wrong.
I drum my fingers on my desk, my chin in my palm as I stare out the window near my cubical. The tall walls that encase my cubical have always allowed me privacy to daydream, but if I leave the sliding door open, I can get a fantastic view of busy Culver City.
A soft ding from my computer alerts me to a private message in our company messaging system, effectively tearing me away from my thoughts of being a fool.
It was a message from another admin assistant reminding me that the rest of the admins are treating me to lunch on my last day here at Hill House Accounting.
The weekend I met up with Ben in Hermosa Beach, Aubrey asked me to come work with her at Pawsitively Pixy Animal Haven, her animal shelter. She started the shelter a couple of years ago, and it’s been a wild success. But her manager is going on maternity leave, and she needs someone to fill in temporarily.
With Aubrey, I’ve never been shy about sharing my feelings regarding my distaste for my current job. In return, she’s been honest in how she wants me to move to Hermosa. It took me the weekend, but by the time I was heading back to the city, I was planning all the things I needed to do to quit my job and move my life to the beach.
Honestly, it didn’t take Aubrey long to convince me to move. I love animals. And while I’m used to working corporate office jobs, the idea of working in a nonprofit shelter seems like a welcome break in the monotonous day-to-day I’m currently used to. Plus, if I take my work home, it’s probably going to be furry with four legs. Who can say no to that?
I’ve never actually been one to desire climbing the corporate ladder, so it’s not like I’m leaving behind a career I’ve been working toward. It feels like the right move in all the ways that matter.
Darcy is sad I’m moving out, but honestly, I need a break from my party-going cousin. I love her dearly, but I want my own place. And Aubrey and Chance just happen to have an apartment over their detached garage, which they’re letting me rent.
Every time I’ve started a new chapter with a new job, I’ve hoped I’d enjoy it more than the chapter before. And I’ve always wound up slightly disappointed. But this time, I’m genuinely excited to move to the beach and have more surf and bestie time. Plus, I really am looking forward to my new gig—even if it’s temporary.
My private message pings again to ask what kind of sandwich I want from my favorite sandwich shop down the block, and I type out a quick response.
I have an exit interview with HR and Mr. Bales shortly after lunch, and I’m not looking forward to it. Mostly because I know Mr. Bales doesn’t understand the sudden resignation. So, while this day is supposed to be bittersweet, it’s sweeter than anything else at the moment. Thank goodness for the lunch with a few of my colleagues I actually enjoyed working with.
But, hey, at least I get a free meal. I got a free meal out of Ben as well.
Blinking rapidly, annoyed my mind found a way to think about the dark-haired, tatted-up gamer. I was so excited when I realized the man at the beach was the same man from the Club. Spending the next hour with him and learning more about him was fascinating. I didn’t want to leave him, but once again, I did. I thought it was fate that brought us back together. Maybe I was wrong.
I shut my door gently, locking it before skipping down the wooden staircase from my apartment leading to the driveway. I don’t want to wake any of the neighbors with slamming doors and my overall excitement on my first morning of only living minutes from the beach. It’s early, but I have a date with the waves.
Jumping the final step, I skid to a stop when I see Aubrey and Chance’s small, shaggy-haired goat, Pixy, standing in the grass next to my car. He’s chewing on grass, and he’s without his normal leash, so I wonder if he escaped. I scan the yard for Aubrey or Chance, and I don’t see them. It looks like I’ll need to herd Pixy back home before I can leave.
“Hey, little guy,” I say just above a whisper, careful not to spook him. I reach my hand out and take a small step toward him. He takes a slow, methodical chew of the grass hanging out of his mouth, staring me down in the early morning darkness.
This goat and I know each other well, but even so, I don’t want to make any sudden movements and send him running.
“How’d you get out here, Pix?” I ask, slowly advancing toward him.
Aubrey and Chance have had him for years, and really, this goat is a part of their great love story. I’ve never been one to think of a goat as a pet, but Pixy here is well-loved and has an easy life for sure.
A door slams somewhere down the sleepy street, and I jump, not expecting the noise. “Shit,” I sputter, taking a full step toward the goat.
Then I see it happen. Pixy’s muscles freeze up, and he tips over with a thud in the grass.
<
br /> Shit, shit, shit.
Hurrying toward him, I do my best to calm my erratic breathing. This is what Pixy does when he gets nervous. It’s an actual genetic disorder called fainting goat, or so Aubrey tells me. His fainting spell shouldn’t last long, but I feel terrible I scared him.
“What the hell happened?” comes a deep, familiar voice. My head shoots up, and I spot Chance walking around the side of the house toward me and the passed-out Pixy. There’s humor laced in his questioning tone, so I sigh in relief just as Pixy’s statue-like body starts to relax.
“He didn’t seem startled to see me, but then there was a noise down the street. I jumped, then he did his thing and fainted.” I bit my lip, staring down as the goat springs up. With a flick of his tail, he goes back to his morning grazing.
Chance chuckles as he comes to a stop next to Pixy. “Don’t worry about it, Kel. See, he’s fine.”
“I don’t care how normal it is. I will never not be worried about him every time he tips over stiff as a board.” Shaking my head, I reach down and scratch behind his ear.
“I get it.” He nods. Chance is a great guy, and I’m happy he and Aubrey worked out their shit and got their happily ever after. Their love story is novel-worthy, to say the least, and it’s one I love hearing about over and over. Even if it involved them putting me in the middle of some very uncomfortable conversations.
I take a step away from the two most important beings in Aubrey’s life. I need to get to the beach. “I’m glad he wasn’t out here alone. I thought he escaped.”
“Nope, I’m out here with him. I was in the garage. Inspiration hit me early this morning. But thanks for checking on him. You heading to the beach?” He stuffed his hands in the pockets of his jersey basketball shorts. Chance used to play professional soccer back in Australia. Now, he spends his days as an artist, using junk to make stunning artwork.
