by Lauren Helms
He nods in understanding.
I don’t expect Chuck to speak, but like normal, it’s a shock. “I guess I’m just surprised you aren’t moving out to get with that hot surfer girl. Am I right?” He grins and looks around the room. He’s met with blank stares and most definitely a glare from the beauty in the chair.
“Shit,” Simon mutters under his breath.
Gritting my teeth—fuck, my dentist is gonna get on my ass about the grinding—I manage, “Surfer girl has a name. And we didn’t work out.” I’d like to tell him to show some damn respect, but I don’t.
Bernie jumps out of the chair at that moment. “All right, meeting over. Let’s get some gaming in. Then we can call Rob and let him know about Ben’s plans.”
And just like that, a weight is lifted from my shoulders. Or it should be. Yet there’s so much left lingering in the air.
Regret.
Never in my life have I felt regret—until now. For four weeks, regret has been hanging over my head like a storm cloud. A cloud I can’t seem to get away from.
A month ago, my life started spiraling into a new chapter. Plans were set into motion. I left my heart in Hermosa Beach with a woman I would probably never see or hear from again. But it was better that way. And I was so caught up in the final month of our tournament season—finding my replacement and preparing for a new career—that the time I spent thinking about that woman was limited to my nights alone in my bed.
Fuck, I miss Kelly.
I loved Kelly early in our relationship—hell, maybe even from the moment I met her. I just wouldn’t let myself believe it until it was too late. Look where that got me.
If there’s one thing I’ve learned about myself over the last few months, it’s that I’m shit at relationships of any kind. I have no one to blame but myself for what happened between us. And I should probably do a better job of fixing myself before I even think about getting involved with anyone else.
I’m also going to miss this team. I spent the better half of the last year figuring out a way to move forward. To not be left behind. I’m not the kind of guy that gets left behind. I do my own thing—what’s best for me.
But it wasn’t until the ink was barely dry on the signature belonging to my replacement when it hit me that I was done. And it hit me so damn hard. Guess that’s what I get for trying to run away before I had a chance to be forgotten. I somehow managed to get hurt anyway.
Matt’s his name, and he slid into the role like he was meant to be there. He’s friendly and happy, about five years younger than me, wet behind the ears, and hell-bent on making his team debut into the pro gaming scene a splash.
His experience as a gamer is laden with excellent marks on tournaments he played in as a single. He specializes in a few games but has a love for Call of Battle.
Team NoMad is the perfect fit for him.
My replacement.
I didn’t think I’d feel like this. Like a piece of me, another fucking piece of me, is being torn away. It turns out I was leaving those important pieces of myself strung all over the continent. Cali, Chicago. I’m not sure what it says about me running off to New York, the next chapter in my life incomplete. But it’s what’s going to happen. In five days.
My bags are packed. My room is nearly boxed up. I haven’t sent any of my shit to New York yet. Call it procrastination if you will, but I’m not quite ready for all that. It makes it all… final. But it’s packed, so at least there’s that.
Matt will be moving into my room once I’m all out. Most likely within hours of me handing my key off to Chuck. But I still have five days before that’s happening. This is still my apartment for five more days, and I’m going to soak in every last moment—every last memory of this place—before I have to say goodbye.
Gallant has set up an apartment rental for me. Apparently, they own a few near headquarters. I’m going to stay there for a couple of months until I can find something permanent. The relocation bonus they gave me will help, and I’m not hurting for money, so I know I’ll find something nice.
That’s about the only thing I’m looking forward to about New York. My own place. A new place. How fucking sad is that? That this job I decided to take—that ultimately ended my relationship and career as a pro gamer—isn’t even the job I want?
I grunt as I shove the last of my books into a box.
I won’t dwell on this anymore. It’s happening and I’ll deal with it. Maybe the job won’t be as bad as I’m worrying it will be, and I’ll learn to love it.
Right.
I don’t have anything to really do over the next five days. Tomorrow, I’m spending the day with my parents. And Bernie mentioned a going away dinner. On instinct, I head toward the door to walk over to the training room, but as I approach, I remember I’m done. My gaming equipment is already set aside, ready for me to pack up. All the stuff in my room is my personal belongings. Most of the equipment items in the training room belongs to the team, but some were gifted to me by sponsors. I’m taking that shit with me.
I stop in the middle of the living room, staring at the door and deciding against collecting that stuff right now. I know the team is all gathered there, and I don’t want to deal with Matt’s excitement and the team’s sad eyes. So I walk to the couch and flip on the television.
Mindlessly, I flip to The Mandalorian and hit play. But my mind wonders before too long. Maybe I should stop avoiding the inevitable and move up my flight. Am I really going to just sit around for the next several days doing this shit? Nothing?
My phone dings from my pocket—an email. But I ignore it. A second later, it rings. With a sigh, I pull it out and look at the screen, swiping to answer.
“Hey, Gar,” I mumble into the phone. I grab the remote and pause the show, realizing I’m going to have to start it over because I have no idea what’s going on.
“Yo, Ben. Lasso just sent you an email.” I can tell by his voice the dude is hyped up.
“All right. How much coffee have you had today? You sound…”
“Excited? Well, brother, that’s because I am,” he rushes. “What’s the status on the Gallant job?”
I scratch my cheek. “Uh, I accepted it. I leave at the end of the week. Shit’s all packed.” I thought for sure he knew all this.
“You sign a contract with them yet?” He sucks in a breath.
“I have the contract, but it’s not signed. Why?” I draw out the word. Why does he care about my contract?
“Fuck. That’s good news.” His tone is relieved as he lets out a breath. “Look, I know the timing of this is crazy, but Lasso wants you.”
“What do you mean, they want me? I’m really not looking for more freelance voice-over gigs, Gar.” I run my hand over my head.
“No, they have an Associate Producer opening. They want you.”
My eyes narrow. “Associate Producer?”
“Yeah, the guy who had the job just up and left. His wife was relocated or something, and he put in his notice yesterday. Management has been scrambling because there’s a new project starting up and they need this position filled. They’re giving you the associate title to start, but the guy who left was at the executive level. You just have to show them how kick-ass you are, and you’ll see a title change and pay raise before you know it.”
“Tell me about the position,” I say, dumbfounded. Is this real?
“Yeah, sure. It’s right up your alley, Ben. You’ll run the show from start to finish on a video game project. This is huge.”
Shit, it’s exactly what I wanted. “This almost seems too good to be true.” I wish I could see his face to see if he’s fucking with me right now.
“I know, but I mentioned your name in our management meeting this morning. They know you and like you, and when I told them about your new job with Gallant, they didn’t want to waste a minute. HR already emailed you the full job description and an offer letter. I was standing in Darla’s office when she hit send, but I wanted to talk to you
before you read the email.” His excitement is rolling through the phone and seeping deep into my bones.
“No interview? An offer just like that?” Again, too good to be true.
“Like I said, you’ve worked for them the past six months and they like you. They feel confident in what you can offer. I forwarded them your resume, and since I was already on your reference list, I gave you a fucking stellar reference.” He laughs, and I have no doubt he did just that.
“Thanks, man. Holy fuck.” I lean forward, elbows on my knees.
“Say yes, man.”
“I want to, but Gallant is expecting me.” I sigh. I hate going back on my word, and while I may not have signed a contract yet, I don’t want to burn a bridge.
“Yeah, I know. But this job is a perfect fit. You know damn well you have no desire to be a fucking community manager. You hate social media and that’s what you’re signing up to do for forty hours a week.”
He’s so damn right, but I’m not telling him that. I groan.
“You know what else this means?” His voice is low.
“Huh?” I grunt.
“It puts you thirty fucking minutes from your girl. No more long distance, man.” I can hear the smile in his voice, and I hang my head.
No way Kelly takes me back. But the thought of being so damn close to her makes my chest ache where my heart used to be. Adrenaline courses through my body like a jolt of electricity—a shot of fucking caffeine straight to my soul.
“Don’t mess this up again, Ben. If this isn’t fucking fate helping you out one last time, then I don’t know my ass from my face.” He’s right and I know it. I’ve never in my life believed in fate. I’ve got too much more important shit to think about than fate, and what’s meant to be will be shit. But the night I met Kelly, then seeing her at the beach weeks later, I started to question it. I gave it a good long thought, and it’s been a pain in my side ever since.
“Fucking fate,” I murmur.
“Awesome fucking fate, man,” he parrots.
“If I jump on this job, I lose my chance at Gallant. My spot on NoMad has already been filled.”
“All you have to do is accept the job and it’s yours. Benefits rival what Gallant offers. Salary is probably more than any community manager would make. And even if it’s not, I know money isn’t a deal-breaker for you.” He’s, again, not wrong. I hate it when he’s right because he lets it go to his head.
“Shiiit.” I sigh. “I want this job. I want California.” I’m not naïve enough to voice that I want my girl back—that’s something I might not get—but living close to her is a hell of a lot more manageable than living nearly three thousand miles away.
“Yeah, boi!” he yells.
Laughing at his excitement, I say, “You just fist-pumped, didn’t you?”
“You bet your fine ass I did.” He chuckles and I shake my head.
“What now?” I ask him.
“I’m heading back into Darla’s office. Reply to that email accepting the job, and she’ll help you from there.” He mutters something to Darla and we say goodbye.
I review the email, offer, and description quickly, and I can’t believe I’m looking at my dream job. I fire off a reply to Darla, and within the hour, I’m in a conference call with management and HR. My schedule to leave Chicago in five days works for them, but since I have to adjust my flight, I move it up by two days.
Suddenly, the need to leave Chicago behind is a need I can’t fulfill fast enough. When I see Dex, Simon, and Bernie the next day to collect my equipment from the game room, I fill them in on the change of plans. Bernie cries. I don’t know why she’s so emotional. She’s normally so badass. She has to be if she’s going to be at the fucking top in this industry. But she hugs me, and while I already miss this group that’s become family over the past several years, I know they aren’t going anywhere. My time with this pro gaming team is now my past, but my future—well, she’s in California, and I can’t get to her fast enough.
19
Kelly
One of the reasons I love the ocean is because when I’m out in the water, my mind isn’t in overdrive. It’s just me, the waves, the salty air, and the sun. It’s a Tuesday morning, nearly Halloween. This portion of the beach is my favorite spot, I come out here early enough that I don’t have to fight for space with other surfers. On the weekends, it’s crowded. On the weekdays, not so much.
Straddling my board, I face the horizon as I let the water rock me into a natural rhythm. It’s so damn peaceful out here. I would stay out here forever if I could.
A small wave rolls in, but I let it go. My mind isn’t completely settled yet. I need to be one with the water before I chase the next one that rolls in.
I’m not due at the shelter until nine, and it’s hardly even six in the morning. I could stay out here another two hours if I wanted. I may just do that.
I didn’t sleep worth a damn last night—or the night before. My dreams the past two nights were filled with the man who got away. I was in Culver City visiting my cousin over the weekend, and I swear I saw Ben. I knew it was a mind trick, but it affected me just the same.
It was mid-morning, and I was on my way to Melting Moon Café and a man came out of the cafe that looked just like him. I saw his profile for a split second before he turned in the opposite direction. He was looking down at his phone, so I didn’t get a good view of him. I stopped dead in my tracks and was jostled from my stare when someone bumped into me from behind. It was my fault—you don’t just stop in the middle of a crowded sidewalk. My eyes dragged down his backside, looking for tattooed artwork across the back of his neck and down his arms, but the man was wearing a hoodie so my efforts were denied.
I closed my eyes and centered myself. It wasn’t Ben. He’s in New York living his life. I’m in California living mine.
But the idea of seeing Ben walking out of the café really stuck with me. The rest of the weekend, my mind wandered. I thought about what would happen, what I would say, if I ran into Ben again.
Would we hug? Would we smile at each other and catch up? Or would it be a quick hello and move on? What if he was with his new girlfriend? Not that he has one. I honestly don’t know. But there’s bound to be a time where that man finds himself a girl that’s worth him settling down for.
What if when we meet again, I’m with my new boyfriend? Again, there’s no new boyfriend, but it’s only a matter of time according to my cousin and Aubrey. Both are champing at the bit to set me up. While I’ve told Darcy that under no circumstances is she allowed to set me up with anyone ever again, I may allow Aubrey to. As my best friend, I know she won’t do me wrong. If I were out with a boyfriend and Ben and I saw each other again, would his eyes heat with jealousy? Would I want them to? Or would I want him to smile and wish me luck and be happy for me?
I let out a heavy breath as I idly run my fingers through the water near the side of my board. Maybe, given more time, I’ll only want the best for him. For us to smile kindly at each other and move on. But right now, the thought of loving another, and him finding love with a woman that isn’t me—well, I’m not ready for it. The feelings are big and they consume me if I’m not careful. I miss him.
I met him in March, and by August, we were over. Six months of missed connections, texts, short visits, phone calls, and sex. Amazing freaking sex. They were the best and most stressful six months of my life.
I splash my hand through the water, sending droplets flying.
“I’ve moved on,” I say to the ocean.
The past several weeks have been wonderful. Okay, they’ve been meh. But the good news is that I still love my job at the shelter. And I can officially call it my job because the lady I was filling in for resigned two weeks ago. She decided she wanted to stay home with her newborn, and Aubrey offered me the job. She said she expected it would happen and knew that if she got me in there, I wouldn’t want to leave. She was right, of course.
No, the past several weeks may
have been rough, but the past six months were huge for me. Game-changing. I changed careers, found a job I absolutely love, moved into my own place, started surfing every day, fell in love, and then had my heart broken. That’s a lot of shit jam-packed into six months.
Honestly, I wouldn’t change it. Well, of course, the heart breaking part I would change. Who would want to keep that? But I fell in love with a good man, and my time with him was wonderful. I just wish I didn’t miss him so much now. The last two weeks of our relationship may have sucked, but he’d become my best friend, and I fell for him hard and fast. In the blink of an eye, he was gone.
I shake my head. I need to get out of my mind this morning. Hell, if I looked up into the sky long enough, I’m pretty sure I would see his face in the clouds. That’s how pitiful I’m being right now.
I take a big breath of ocean air and center my focus. I can see a wave rolling in, so I paddle toward it. It’s time to enjoy the morning the only way I know how—with the waves.
I look down at my waterproof watch and see it’s been more than an hour. I should head back to the beach. I take my time. There are more people on the beach now, the boardwalk opening up for the day. This is normal, which is why I like to get out here so early.
The hairs on the back of my neck rise as I see a lone figure standing on the beach. I can’t see him well, but he’s facing me as if he’s watching me. I can’t make out his features until I get closer. He isn’t very close to the water, only halfway down the beach or so. As my toes connect with the ocean floor, I tuck my board under my arm and slowly continue out of the water. I study him—he’s lean, tall, and dark. He has olive skin and dark hair, and he wears a black sweatshirt and board shorts. His hands are in his pockets. He holds nothing, and there’s nothing beside him. He just stands there in the sand, alone. And I know without a doubt, his gaze is zeroed in on me.
It isn’t lost on me that I’m not scared in the moment. I should be; I’ve clearly caught the attention of a stranger. But I’m not worried. I’m not scared because my mind is a nasty devil and Ben’s name runs through it on a loop.
