Elle threw up her hands in mock exasperation. “Well, if you keep peddling the damn hummus so hard. Sure. Let’s have hummus.”
Gia wasn’t sure if breaking bread and dining on hummus were synonymous, but once everyone returned to set and they picked up the shoot, Elle seemed lighter. Fun, even, so maybe her efforts had been worthwhile.
“Oh, I think you just smashed into a ghost,” she said quietly, when Gia had trouble with the prop door a few takes in. “Wanna try that again?”
“This damn door shall not defeat me,” Gia said, with a raised eyebrow, and stepped backward through it as if on rewind.
“See? Now that was way more impressive,” Elle called. “Colleen, maybe Gia could do her part in reverse?”
“I think we’ll stick to the script,” Colleen said, with a wink.
“Hey, Gia,” Elle called through the door. “If you put that same kind of finesse into your surfing, you could really make something of yourself.”
Gia stepped back through the door, her mouth agape. “You won’t be laughing when you’re number two in the rankings.”
“No, I definitely won’t,” Elle said serenely, “because that will never happen.”
“Did you work out today?” Gia asked, recalling her own four-hour intensive session at the gym.
“I work out every day,” Elle said simply. “That’s not even a question. I’m like Ms. Pac-Man on Red Bull.”
Gia laughed. “Okay, but not even close.” She shook her head and reset herself for the shot. The competitive banter was light and surprisingly fun. Not only that, but it seemed to liven them up. Take after take, their comedic timing and give-and-take came together all the more.
“Am I wrong or do we have another one of these next week?” Elle asked, as they walked together down the hallway to their respective dressing rooms.
“You’re not wrong. We’re back on Thursday for the second commercial.”
Elle paused in front of the door that was hers, her facial expression sincere. “Thanks for bailing me out earlier.”
“I didn’t do much.”
“You did, and we both know it.” She sighed and ran a hand through her hair, pushing it off her forehead.
Gia was learning she did this a lot. Hair moves.
“Just a weird day.”
She wanted to ask why, to find out what had Elle on her heels in a manner Gia had never once witnessed in the past, even in the midst of the most intense pressure imaginable. She didn’t, however. That information didn’t seem to be hers to ask for. “Well, you rebounded nicely.”
“Thanks. I guess I’ll see you Thursday?”
“I’ll be here.”
Two down and only a handful more to go. As Gia made her way to her own dressing room, she took note of the smile on her face. Somewhere along the way, she’d started to enjoy these little promotional shoots.
How had that happened?
She glanced behind her at the closed door to Elle’s dressing room, shook her head, and went inside her own. The olive branch was nice, but this didn’t mean she wasn’t still going to take Elle down at the next tournament stop. Nope. That part was still on. Hummus or no hummus.
Chapter Six
“We need our own bar,” Autumn mused, glancing around the décor of Dive while sipping her virgin daiquiri. “This one’s fine, but it’s not ours, you know?”
“I like it,” Gia said. It had been her turn to pick the locale for their night out, so of course, she’d chosen Dive, the little spot off the water that catered to locals. Okay, mainly the surf crowd, but she knew her friends would assimilate well enough.
“What do you mean, our own bar?” Isabel asked Autumn.
“Somewhere that just says us, you know?”
Gia scoffed. “So, no surfboards lining the walls, then?”
Autumn squinted. “The surfboards are a nice touch. Very Venice.”
Isabel nodded. “Very you. Just not us. Speaking of, aren’t those friends of yours?” Isabel inclined her head to the table across the way made up of some surfers Gia hung with on Venice Beach.
“Yep. That’s Ozzie, and Ricky, and Marilyn D,” she told them.
“What’s the D stand for?” Hadley asked.
Gia shook her head. “No one knows.”
“Mysterious. I think at some point tonight, we’ll need to find out,” Autumn said. “Speaking of our neighbors, I wasn’t going to mention this, because sometimes you get a little bent out of shape, but Elle Britton walked in about five minutes ago and is sitting two tables behind you.”
Isabel’s eyes lit up. “Fuck, yeah. The plot thickens at Dive.” She sat back in her chair with satisfaction as if ready to take it all in.
Gia stole a quick glance behind her, and Autumn hadn’t been messing around. Elle, wearing dark jeans and a black camisole, sat at a small table with two men and a woman. One of them was probably that guy from the date she’d had the week prior. Patrick, Jason, Trevor. Something bland enough for Gia to forget. Aha, yes, that must be him, the one with his hand on her forearm. They were drinking from carved-out pineapples generally reserved for tourist types and laughing at something. They were actually laughing a lot. She was hardly the cool police, and tried not to be judgmental about the pineapples. She lost the battle.
“Guess you’re not the only surfer who knows about this place,” Hadley said, with an interested grin. “You going to go over there and say hello soon?”
“What? No,” Gia said adamantly, and shook her head. Then she thought on it. Maybe it would be rude not to, now that they kind of worked together. Elle seemed the type to be cognizant of etiquette. Was there protocol for public sightings of your work friend? She’d never had the kind of traditional job that required that skillset. “Should I?”
“Your call,” Isabel said. “Might be weird later if you don’t. Aren’t you two trying to get past the hateful toe-to-toe grudge match of old?”
“Yeah,” she said, reluctantly. Isabel had a point. She glanced over and caught sight of Elle walking to the bar with the slightest sway of her hips. She had her customary smile in play and stopped to chat with a table of in-awe college kids who had flagged her down for an autograph. “Be right back.”
As Elle leaned across the bar to catch the bartender’s eye, Gia took the spot at the rail next to her. “Of all the surf bars in all of Venice, you had to walk into mine.”
“Oh my God,” Elle said, brightening and looking around. “You came out of nowhere.” A pause, followed by a growing smile. “Hey.”
“Hey.” Gia smiled back. “Just stalking my competitors in my downtime and surprising them when they least expect it.” She needed stronger social skills. She’d pay for them if she had to.
Elle turned, leaned back against the bar, and dropped her tone to sincerity. “Sorry for crashing your turf. I wanted to show Christopher a little bit of my world. My people.”
Ah, yes. Christopher. That was his name. She committed it to memory for stupid reasons not worthy of reflection. “What’s the verdict?”
Elle glanced back at him, her brow furrowed. “He’s still taking it all in, I think. He’s a little more buttoned up. You know the type.”
“Nope. But I’ve seen them around.” Gia tapped the bar. “I won’t keep you. Wanted to say hi and all. Have fun tonight.”
Elle nodded as the bartender approached. “Thanks. You, too.”
The night played on, and more and more people jammed the small space. They’d taken one of the walls down, which allowed a nice breeze off the water to keep everyone cool and comfortable. As Isabel expounded loudly about Taylor’s uncanny ability to know when she was craving Chinese food, Gia politely excused herself to the restroom, which was not as awful as she was imagining it might be.
Her second surprise came when she emerged from the stall and ran into Elle, who stood at one of the sinks…not looking too great.
“Too many hollowed-out pineapples?” she asked, washing her hands at the sink next to Elle’s.
“Just a hunch. You okay?”
“Nope. I’ve had too many, I’m afraid. I don’t normally do this when I’m training. Drink more than one or two. Today was weird, though.” She held on to the countertop for balance.
“You mean the shoot today?” Gia turned off the faucet and reached for a paper towel.
Elle nodded about eight times. “It was awful. I was ready to see you, and then I did, and it was…whoa, and then so hard to act normal, you know?”
She wasn’t making sense. “Not sure I do.”
Elle covered her face the way girls did when they were making a decision that embarrassed them. “Okay, why not just say it, right?” She laughed. Her cheeks were pink, and it was spreading into an impressive blush.
“Right,” Gia said, still not following.
“So, I had a dream. A crazy one.”
“Gotcha.” She waited. Nothing. “Was I in this dream, or…?”
“Oh, yeah. You were definitely involved.”
“Ah. Well, I hope I didn’t do anything too crazy or mean.” She nodded and turned to go.
“It was one of those dreams,” Elle said. “God, I can’t believe I’m telling it all right now.” She seemed to refocus as Gia turned back and met her gaze. “And then seeing you on set was so…odd. After we’d…you know.”
Wait. Gia stopped and played the whole thing back. She took a step toward Elle, and even though they were alone in the restroom, she made sure the coast was clear and dropped her tone. “Are you saying you had a sex dream about me?”
Elle pointed at her, seemingly more confident and exceptionally drunk. “Bingo.”
“Oh.” And then, “Wow.”
“I know,” Drunk Elle said. “No idea why. Well, it might have been that online article that we were dating.”
“The internet prompted this?”
“That’s what I said. Like, more than three times to myself. Because we’re not. Dating.”
“Didn’t see that particular article.” But then Gia didn’t really pay attention to what was said in the press. “Let me get this straight. You’re saying that there was an article about you and me that inspired a dream in which we were—”
“Naked, and kissing, and it was really good.” Elle gave her head a shake, as if the details were all consuming. “Sooo good.” She then glanced around, realizing her hands were still damp from the faucet. “Are there paper towels in here anywhere?”
Gia retrieved one for her, trying to figure out how to play this cool and keep everything status quo with her thoughts moving a mile a minute. She decided it was best to just check in on Elle’s state of mind. “Are you okay with everything? Just a dream, right? Nothing more.”
Elle put her hand on her heart as if relieved. “Right? A silly dream that messed with me temporarily. Feeling so much better now if only the floor would stop doing that. Maybe I need another drink.”
“Maybe not, though. I’m feeling like that would be a bad idea.”
Elle nodded vaguely and pointed at Gia. “You’re very wise. I never knew how wise you were until now and the Ms. Pac-Man advice. And you’re much nicer than I ever thought, too.” She downgraded to a whisper. “And very pretty. Like…don’t get me started.”
“Thanks.” Gia shifted uneasily. “I should get back to my friends now. You going to be okay?”
“Yeah. Sticking with water, I think, so I don’t make any other embarrassing confessions.”
“I think you’re in the clear.” A pause as they stared at each other. “Take care, Elle.”
“You, too. See ya out there.”
Gia, wanting to make sure Elle made it back to her friends safely, took a spot at the bar where she could observe the restroom door. It was only a moment or two before Elle emerged and joined her friends. Just as promised, she latched onto a giant glass of ice water. Knowing that all was well, Gia headed back to her own table, where she found her friends musing about Autumn’s future menu prospects.
“I’m just wondering if you decided to offer a few actual entrees, like French toast in the mornings, if you would make a killing,” Isabel said casually.
Autumn held up a finger. “Except I would never do that, because Pajamas is about the coffee. The coffee is the star. Nothing can overshadow it. You just want convenient French toast.”
“Is that a crime?”
“You guys,” Gia said, in a bit of a fog.
“I get Autumn’s point, though.” Hadley chimed in. “It’s a branding issue. She can’t confuse the message just so your life is more convenient. Though I do love French toast. Hey, Gia’s back!”
“Depperschmidtson!” Isabel yelled and pointed.
Gia stared at her, lost.
“Marilyn D’s name. We gave Hadley five dollars to go and ask.”
“I get why she just goes with D,” Autumn said, sadly.
Isabel winced. “Wouldn’t you? Think about it. Hi, I’m Marilyn Depper—”
“I think I just discovered why Elle was so out of it at the commercial shoot today.”
“And why is that?” Isabel asked, still clearly in the land of Depperschmidtson.
“She apparently had a sex dream about me.”
Three faces froze.
“More,” Hadley said, with the come-here gesture. “We’re going to need so much more.”
Autumn nodded, setting down her virgin daiquiri. “A bomb has been dropped.”
“Can I just say that I’ve been waiting patiently for such a bomb?” Isabel said with a know-it-all grin.
“No, not like that. This is a straight girl bomb,” Gia said, still trying to laugh off what she’d just learned and wrap her mind around it at the same time. “And no, you can’t say that,” she told Isabel. “You have to stop with the harassment.”
“I’d like to know how I’m harassing you so I can be more effective at it.”
“Well, to start with, you’re constantly insinuating with the—I don’t even know. With the sparks talk and the whatever, the tension—”
“Do we know that she’s straight?” Hadley said quietly, attempting to regroup the conversation. “Do we know for sure?”
Isabel shrugged. “We were all straight once. Just saying. Don’t get me started on Cindy Mackleroy tossing her hair in the seventh grade. She changed my entire life for the better. I should send her a gift basket, now that I’m thinking about it.”
“Not me,” Autumn said. “Not even for a swift second. Women from day one.”
“Prophetic,” Isabel said, and fist-bumped Autumn. “Doesn’t surprise me. You’ve always been ahead of your time.”
Autumn grinned. “Right? I knew hot chicks were destined to be my calling, and in the end, I nabbed the hottest one and now we’re happily knocked up.” A second fist bump, this time from Hadley. Gia struggled to follow the thread of the conversation, as her mind was on the events of the last fifteen minutes.
“While Kate is extra yummy,” Hadley said, gesturing to Gia to take the floor, “I think we need to hear more about this dream. The details need coloring in.”
“Oh,” Gia said. She paused as her three friends stared at her expectantly while she tried to figure out how to articulate the random, drunkenly dropped details. “She didn’t give me much. Just that there was kissing and we were apparently naked and that it was good. Wait. I think she said sooo good.” The sooo stuck out in Gia’s mind. For some reason, it mattered.
“Doesn’t look like she was the only one who was surprised.”
“I’m not surprised.” Damn. She couldn’t sell that. “Okay, maybe a little. The thing is, I’ve never imagined myself naked with Elle Britton, and now I am. So, yeah, I’m figuring it out.” Even hearing those vague descriptions played back had Gia…affected and dealing with the creative images they inspired. Her face felt hot. She sipped her apple whiskey, hoping it somehow contained the antidote to right her shell-shocked ship, because things were extra upside down.
<
br /> Elle Britton had a sex dream about her? Really? That was reality?
Regardless, the knowledge should have rolled right off her back. Instead she was imagining herself on it beneath Elle’s touch. This wasn’t good and so shallow. She felt dizzy from the aggressively battling emotions.
Meanwhile, her friends continued to patter back and forth about the dream and what it meant. Luckily, they kept their voices quiet enough that nearby tables wouldn’t pick up on the direction of the conversation, which was rare for them. All the while, Gia tried her best not to look over at Elle. But that was hard because she really did radiate tonight, all loosened up and less “on” than Gia had ever seen her. She was just…a person. Apparently, the after-hours suited her. And it wasn’t like Gia was lusting after Elle, either. It so wasn’t. She was merely intrigued by the week’s series of events. Hostility, friendship, support, and now…this. Gia thought back to a phrase her mother used often when she was a kid. Will wonders never cease? Yeah, that one. And would they? Fucking wonders.
* * *
Why was there a drumbeat inside her head? Elle opened her eyes. Oh no, that felt awful. Opening her eyes had been a bad idea, and who was doing the drumming? And why wouldn’t they stop? The searing pain when she tried to sit up was enough to keep her lying down for the foreseeable future, which was unfortunate because she really needed to train. She looked around and attempted to get her bearings. She was on the couch, apparently. How had she ended up on her couch? She didn’t remember that part.
There was a glass of water and two Advil on the coffee table across from her with a note that read Take me, please. Aha, Holly’s handwriting. She smiled, as much as one could when their face was about to fall off. She’d left the exact same note for Holly last year when she’d gotten blitzed on New Year’s Eve. So, that was it. She’d had way too much to drink last night and Holly and Christopher had made sure she was home safe and sound. There had been pineapple margaritas, chips and queso, the memory of which turned her stomach, and some sort of running joke about her loosening up and how nice it was. And oh, she had, too. That was the problem, and she was paying for it dearly. She wouldn’t drink a margarita for the rest of her life. She promised the heavens, offered them this sacrifice, if they would just take away the awful.
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