“Ballsy,” Holly said. “You gotta give her credit. She was trying to apply pressure.”
“Yeah, well, it worked.” Elle shook her head. “Gia Malone. This tournament bumped her to number two. I’m so exhausted from it all that I can barely see straight, but now? There’s no way I can lay up or take any kind of break. She’s getting better, you know.”
“I do.”
“And I’m not.”
Holly balked and tossed her bouncy dark hair that fell just shy of her chin. That bouncy hair was the most expressive hair Elle had ever seen. She envied Holly for it. “You’re so hard on yourself that I don’t know what to do with you. I want to smack you in your head over it. Do you know how desperately I would kill someone to surf like you do, you little surfing prodigy?”
“Yes,” Elle said glumly. “I should shut up, but I can’t. I’m that competitive. My off switch is broken.”
“No explanation needed. I’ve met you.”
She and Holly had grown up together in San Diego, surfing every minute they had available to them before moving to LA just out of high school. Elle had always been the stronger surfer and had been good enough to pursue professional surfing at just sixteen. Holly had not. So while Elle hit up whatever tournaments her parents could scrape together the funds for, Holly had entered the world of finance, starting off as a teller at a bank and climbing the ranks to loan officer. Elle might possess the flashier lifestyle, but she admired Holly and the place she’d carved for herself in the world. Solid. Stable. Easy. Plus, she didn’t have to travel the way Elle did.
“You’re a wave weasel is what you are,” Holly said, poking her in the ribs.
Elle grimaced at the childhood nickname Holly had assigned her and squirmed from her touch with a squeal. “I’m not a wave weasel. That’s something you made up. I keep telling you.”
“Don’t argue. You’re a wave weasel and always will be.” Holly glanced at her watch. “Is it after four? It is. You know what that means? Rosé!”
“Four feels early when I’m in training.”
“Well, that’s dumb. It’s not. I’ll snag two glasses.”
Elle shrugged. “You never listen to me. I’m the levelheaded one!”
“And I’m the fun one! So pipe down.”
“Hey!” Elle called after her. “I’m fun. C’mon!”
“Once in a while. Not as often as you used to be.”
Elle bristled at the probably accurate statement. Holly told it like it was. Yes, she’d been wildly focused on her career and the media responsibilities that came with it. Wasn’t her fault the requests kept pouring in. She knew how to work the press, to smile in just the right way or toss her hair when she laughed. They were skills like any other that she’d developed over time, especially once she learned how valuable they could be. When Holly returned to Elle’s deck with two glasses of rosé, Elle sent her a pout. “Am I really that bad? Please tell me I’m not. I don’t want to become boring and set in my ways.”
Holly stared at her. “You’re an obsessed zombie hell-bent on world surf domination. You’re admittedly exhausted from it all, but you won’t give yourself a break. I, your much more carefree friend, miss the version of you that lived a little more. Allowed yourself a night out on the town.”
“I go out on the town.”
“You have a million dinners with acquaintances. It’s what you do. Everyone knows your name, but how many people actually know you? Let me ask you this, when was the last time you went on a date?”
“I don’t date,” Elle said. “Look at my life. It never works. When would I date?”
“Therein lies the problem. You’re turning into a spinster.” She shuddered. “There are cobwebs on your lady parts. Allow me to remedy this awful trend and set you up with a buddy of Dash’s from the bank. Finance guys are hot. We can double. Won’t you allow me this pleasure?”
She didn’t love the idea, but she fought the urge to decline. “What are Dash’s friends like?”
“Probably a little like Dash, but he’s a decent catch. You like Dash.”
“Of course I like Dash,” she said, already dreading the idea. Holly and Dash had dated casually for the last six months. The guy was good-natured enough, if a little boring for Elle’s liking. Plus, the men Elle had dated in the past were often intimidated by her or interested only because she was well known. There didn’t seem to be a lot of middle ground, which was why she’d shelved the process altogether. There were other things to focus on. More exciting things.
“You’re never going to find the right one if you don’t look for him.”
“Fine. Set it up,” Elle huffed. Though her expectations were dialed to low, at least no one could accuse her of not trying.
Holly took a moment. She turned her head and regarded Elle suspiciously out of the corner of her eye. “That was too easy. Is the other shoe about to drop?”
“I only have one proverbial shoe. You made a valid point, and guess what? I listen to you.”
“And you won’t cancel, even if The Tonight Show calls?”
This was hard. “I won’t cancel.”
“And when you marry this guy and have eighteen children you’ll thank Aunt Holly and make everyone toast to her and her matchmaking ways.”
Elle shook her head in wonder, not quite sure whether to thank Holly or slug her. “Sure. Whatever you say.”
“That’s what I’m talking about,” Holly said, and clinked her glass to Elle’s. “Two hot chicks like us, out on the town.”
“I don’t want to be called a hot chick.”
“Yes, you do.”
She grinned at her friend and took a sip of rosé. “Maybe a little.”
* * *
Three days later and Elle had changed her outfit at least four different times. What was one supposed to wear on a date with a banker? Her dark pink flirty dress would make her look too frivolous, and her black pleated cocktail number seemed severe when she tried it on. Even her middle-of-the-road sundresses made Elle second-guess ever agreeing to this date in the first place. Indecision was so unlike her! In the end, she’d gone with her peach sleeveless dress with the thin beige belt. Simple meant classic, and that worked. If Christopher, or whatever his name was, hated it, well, that was on him. She sighed at herself in the mirror one last time.
When she arrived at Holly’s house, a cute little one-story not far from Elle’s place along Hermosa Beach, she didn’t bother knocking. Their relationship was beyond knocks and doorbells. She found Holly standing behind her couch, remote control in hand and a giant version of Elle laughing on the television.
“Talk-show-you is so upbeat.”
“Talk-show-me has to be.”
Holly turned to her. “True. She’s like regular-you turned up three notches. It works, though. I mean, look at your endorsement deals. You smile and show your abs and stuff sells. People like you.”
“If it helps pay my tournament entry fees, I’m more than willing to add some pep to my step. I’m nervous.” It all came out like one run-on sentence.
Holly took a moment to unravel the words. “You’re nervous Christopher won’t like you? That’s insane. He’s going to think you’re as adorable and hot as the rest of the world does.”
“No,” Elle said simply. “I’m nervous we’re not going to click, and you’ll be disappointed in me, and think I didn’t try and that I suck at dating, and I don’t like to suck at anything. I’m type A. Get it now?”
Holly looked confused and continued to proverbially scratch her head as she rounded the couch to take a seat. “Humor me.”
“Okay.”
“Here’s what I don’t understand. Whenever there’s any sort of event covered by the media, you have a guy on your arm, and you look like you’re having the time of your life. But it never goes anywhere.”
“Yeah, but those aren’t dates. Those are friends or acquaintances who have agreed to go with me.”
“You click with them?”
“
I don’t know if click is the word, but we have a great time. It’s different. I don’t know.” She thought on it, looking for a way to better explain herself. “Those arrangements come with a much smaller commitment. One evening and some nice conversation versus working toward…more.”
“And you don’t have sex with any of them?”
Elle laughed. “Honestly, who has time for sex these days?”
“Riddle me this, Batman.”
She was nervous about where this was going. “Okay.”
“Do you want more? Level with me. If the answer is no, I’ll stop trying to set you up.”
“I do want more. Yeah.” A pause. “I mean, probably.” There was just never a person she’d wanted that “more” with. That was the core issue. Maybe not everyone was wired for an ongoing relationship, and while that made her sad on one hand, she also took pride in her self-awareness on the other. Maybe she was destined to focus on her career goals and leave the white picket fence and Facebook official relationship statuses to everyone else.
Maybe.
Or maybe she just hadn’t met the right person yet. Maybe she would meet him tonight and put this whole issue to rest. That would be nice, right? To finally feel like a functioning person, like everyone else.
Twenty minutes later, she smiled into warm, dark eyes. The guy Holly had set her up with really was a looker. She had to give her credit. “Elle, meet Christopher VanCamp. He’s a good friend of Dash’s.”
“Hi. Elle Britton,” she said and extended her hand.
“Christopher. Nice to meet you.”
She nodded and took in his perfectly tailored sport coat and color block tie. Not too flashy, but still fashion forward. “Likewise.”
His hand was much larger as he closed it over hers. Firm, but not too firm on the shake. That was promising. Things were looking up.
“I’ve heard many great things about you,” he said. “Dash and Holly are big fans of yours.” He blushed, hearing how that sounded, and closed his eyes momentarily. “I am, too. Didn’t mean to imply otherwise. I’m a fan of your surfing.”
She nodded, letting him struggle. It was cute.
“I just meant that they spoke highly of you. As a person.” He glanced from Holly to Dash and back to Elle again. “I’m a dolt, and hopefully, you can forgive the last thirty seconds.”
“You’re doing great,” Holly said dryly, and then blossomed into a reassuring smile and shoulder bump. “Elle loves bumbling suitors. Tells me all the time.”
Elle grinned. “I do.”
Holly’s humor worked and Christopher seemed to relax. “Then maybe tonight will be a good one for me.” His eyes crinkled slightly and Elle decided she already liked him. He could be in a cologne ad. She passed Holly a secret look that said well done. Holly winked back.
Remembering her tricks of the trade, Elle made sure to light up as she turned to Dash, who she’d yet to greet. His sandy blond hair had less product than usual tonight and fell casually onto his forehead. She had no doubt that was Holly’s doing. “Hi, Dash!” She pulled him into a warm embrace. “Are you caught up on Game of Thrones yet?” She kissed his cheek. “Say yes.”
“Not yet. No spoilers.”
“How are we ever going to bond over this show if you don’t hurry up?” she teased. “You’re turning into a TV slacker.”
“I’m caught up,” Christopher said.
“See?” Elle pointed at him. “The new guy is lapping you.”
Dash turned to Chris and slapped him on the back. “Yeah, well, tell her what you do for a living, new guy.”
“I manage funds, which means I can work from home.”
“I work for the man,” Dash said. “Chris’s on his own schedule.”
“How awesome,” Elle said, looping her arm through his as they headed for the door. “Me, too!”
Elle had a fantastic time at dinner. While her heart longed for the fettuccini alfredo, her head made her order the salad with lots of extra chicken because victory didn’t come to the weak. Luckily, the quality of the company made up for the loss. The four of them killed some wine and after-dinner drinks, and before she knew it, they’d been sitting around that table for more than two hours, shooting the breeze, laughing, as she got to know Christopher.
“You’re really great, you know that?” Christopher said quietly in her ear as Holly and Dash argued about who had noticed who first at work. His breath tickled her ear and she resisted the urge to pull away a little bit. “I’m not just saying that. I was so nervous about tonight, but you really put me at ease.”
It’s what she did best. Elle had always been a people person and got along with most everyone. The fact that Christopher just happened to be an easy guy to talk to only helped the process. “I almost canceled,” she told him and then pulled a face. A guilty one. “But I can safely say that I’m very happy I didn’t.”
The confession seemed to have inspired Christopher, and he glanced behind them. “This restaurant has a really cool garden out back, and a gazebo. Want to go check it out?”
She did.
He took her hand and they excused themselves to Holly and Dash, who grinned at them victoriously.
Once outside, they took a lap from the deck to the walkway, which was lined with tiny white lights. “I’ve always loved this restaurant,” Elle told him. “But I’ve never been back here.”
“So that means I’ve scored a point?”
She liked the way his eyes twinkled. Mysterious, yet proud. Elle smiled and squeezed his hand. “One point for you. Deal.”
“Earlier tonight you talked about traveling for your job. Do you enjoy it?”
She considered the question. “Sometimes more than others. Seeing new places never gets old, but I miss the stability of home. Waking up in my own bed. I have a little house on the water not far from Holly’s in Hermosa Beach.”
“It’s a great neighborhood. Maybe one day I’ll see your place.”
She slapped at his arm playfully. “Christopher, my word, you’re forward.”
He caught her lighthearted tone and laughed. “A guy’s gotta try.”
“Does a guy?” she asked. “Does he?” She was flirting. Even she could tell that much, and it was fun. He was. Their eyes locked, and it got very quiet. They could still hear the distant chatter and ambient music from inside the restaurant. He leaned in slowly, giving her enough time to say no if she didn’t want him to kiss her. She appreciated that opt out, as a lot of guys didn’t offer it. She stood her ground and met his lips when they hovered just shy of hers. The kiss was…fine. A little wet and soft. She wouldn’t expound upon it later in a diary she didn’t own. She wouldn’t gush about it to Holly. Or relive it as she lay in bed that night. But fine was a big endorsement in Elle’s book. She would chalk fine up to a win.
As he pulled his lips from hers, Chris met her gaze. “Can I see you again?”
She nodded. “I was hoping so.”
The foursome laughed their way to Holly’s place, where Elle bid them all good night. She needed to be up with the waves in the morning and had a whole workout planned beforehand. A run on the beach, weights, and her least favorite, abs. Christopher walked her to her car, and Dash followed Holly inside, no doubt for a little one-on-one time.
“Don’t lose anybody’s money this week,” Elle said sweetly.
He covered his heart as if her words had pierced it like an arrow. “I will forgive you because you don’t know how good I am at my job.”
She leaned back against her white VW Beetle with a beige convertible top. She’d drop the top, she decided, once she got inside. The night was too perfect not to. “Thank you for dinner.”
“I had a great time,” Christopher said. “Even the part when you made fun of me for watching cartoons.”
“Well, you are a grown man and should really look into that.”
“Only because it was you who suggested it.” His lips were on hers again. It was a good-night kiss and to be expected after the kind
of date they’d just had. A simpler kiss this time. Less movement of his lips over hers and neither tongue made an appearance, though their lips were slightly parted. Was it odd that she spent the time analyzing the logistics of the kiss rather than focusing on the romance of it? Shouldn’t she be lost in the heat? The exciting connection to another person she actually really liked? She wasn’t, though.
Her end conclusion: the kiss was, again, fine.
She drove home, top down, with her spirits hovering slightly above status quo. Holly had done well this time, and she hoped to see Christopher again someday soon. In the meantime, she had two things to worry about. Three press appearances that week and massive amounts of training before the next stop on the tour.
Bring on the waves.
Chapter Three
The Billabong party was packed, close to overflowing. The music pulsed and the drinks flowed freely as everyone who was anyone in the surf community mingled or danced or sucked up to the person they needed to suck up to most. All part of the game.
Gia knew there’d be a lot of industry folks in attendance, but the fact that she could barely walk three feet without bumping into someone who wanted to chat or take a photo with her had her worn down on smiles. She didn’t mind the people themselves. They were great. But she had trouble staying “on” for an extended period of time. Regardless, she forced yet another smile as she and her agent of three years, Gwendolyn, made their way across the crowded warehouse of a restaurant, rented out entirely for the event.
Gwendolyn stayed very close to Gia’s ear as they walked. She was like a hawk when it came to these events, looking to capitalize on any possible networking opportunity. While it was good for Gia’s career in the long run, she’d much rather be surfing. “Don’t be obvious,” Gwendolyn said, “but over there is an up-and-coming tournament sponsor.”
“Oh yeah?” Gia fist-bumped Lindy Ives, a fellow surfer, as they passed. She’d have to catch up with her later.
Sparks Like Ours Page 3
