“What are you grinning about?” He grins back at me as he puts on his own helmet.
“You, acting like that guy was trying to cop a feel or something.” I recreate his frown and imitate his gravelly voice. “I’ll do it.”
“He was flirting with you the whole time. You didn’t notice?”
“No, I really didn’t.”
He rolls his eyes and says, “Figures,” under his breath.
“Are you one of those jealous, possessive boyfriends?”
I’m a foolhardy idiot for asking him. I’m baiting a shark with a baby worm, but I want to know how he is when he’s off the friend leash.
“I’ve only ever had one girlfriend.” He walks over to the dune buggy and leans against the frame, nodding his head for me to get in. “And, no, I wasn’t jealous at all.”
That’s not possible, right? Rhyson’s twenty-eight years old.
“One girlfriend ever?” I buckle in and wait for him to do the same.
“Yeah, I was seventeen, and she cheated on me, like Carrie cheated on Aiden.”
“I knew you were watching!” I point an I-told-you-so finger at him. “Admit it. You loved Sex and the City.”
“Love is a strong word.” Rhyson rolls his eyes. “But Carrie did Aiden dirty, and that whole thing with Big was just a train wreck.”
“So, is that what happened with you and her? A train wreck?”
“She cheated with a supposed friend of mine, so it was kind of a train wreck.” Rhyson shrugs. “I don’t know that I was even really that hurt. Our parents wanted us together. It was just . . . messy. That was enough for me. I decided I just wanted to fuck, and I’ve never looked back.”
He challenges me with that look that reminds me that if all I want is to be one of the boys, he’ll talk to me like one. I prefer his frankness though. It’s one of the things I love about our tenuous arrangement.
“I’m just surprised, I guess, that there hasn’t been anyone you’ve wanted more with,” I say as we settle into our seats.
“Believe me, most girls are fine with just fucking as long as they get what they want.”
“And what do they want?”
“Damned if I know.” He adjusts the helmet on his head and turns a few knobs before giving me one last grin and gunning the engine. “Apparently just to sleep with a rock star since that’s all they ever get from me.”
Anger stirs in my chest and tightens my lips. I’d like to meet all these girls who were fine with “just fucking” Rhyson. Who are these nameless, faceless bimbos who have jaded him so much? And who was the adolescent idiot who at seventeen made him feel this was all he needed? If he did get off that leash, is that all he would want from me?
“Hey, you gonna fall asleep on me again?” Rhyson raises his voice over the revving engine, jarring me from my wayward thoughts.
“No. Sorry.”
“I’ll forgive you if you say yes to what I’m about to ask.”
I wasn’t born yesterday at ten o’clock. I’d never agree to anything Rhyson proposes sight unseen.
“Yes to what?”
“Yes, you’ll go with me to a birthday party next week when I get back from New York.”
“We’ll have to see about . . .” I frown as I process two things at once. “When do you leave for New York?”
“Wednesday. I’m there for a few days. I’m doing Fallon and some more session stuff for the new album.” The look he gives me is half teasing, half earnest. “You gonna miss me when I’m gone?”
“Sure.” I grin at him. “You think I like taking the bus?”
“Nice. That’s all I’m good for, huh? Transportation?”
“Girl’s gotta get around.”
“So will you come or not?” he persists. “It’s a private party. Just some friends at a bowling alley.”
I never know what Rhyson’s up to. This party at a bowling alley with “just some friends” has me intrigued.
“We’ll see.” I brace my hands against the dashboard as if ready for a crash. “Now are we gonna chew the fat all day, or you gonna drive this thing?”
My curiosity, my worries about medical bills, my fatigue from working like an indentured servant, all blow back and off my shoulders once we’re speeding across this vast stretch of sand butting up against the ocean. My stomach rises and falls when Rhyson races over hills. The Pacific, the sand, the birds meandering over the horizon—it’s all a beautiful blur zipping by. The only thing in clear focus is Rhyson and me in this niche of space and time, sailing over dunes.
And joy! This joy starts as a kernel in some long-neglected corner of my heart, and it burgeons with every second of freedom this ride offers. Before I know it, a laugh breaks free from my chest and spills all around us. My arms stretch wide and high over my head. Even though I’m strapped in, I’m flying. I’m propelled by this great joy forward, up, high! And Rhyson is right there with me, laughing and throwing his head back, as free as I am.
How long we ride, I don’t care and I don’t know. How long will I remember this gorgeous day with this gorgeous man? And this rediscovered joy that I thought maybe was lost?
Forever. I’ll remember it all forever.
“PLEASE TELL ME THAT ISN’T BREAKFAST.”
San’s comment pulls my attention from the bowl of green goop I’m mixing on the counter.
“Hardy har har.” I crease my quick grin with sarcasm. “This is my avocado face mask. You actually could eat it though. You got your avocado, honey, oatmeal, vinegar, and lemon juice. Yum-my.”
“If you say so.” San looks from me to the bowl of goop. “You are planning to eat something though, right?”
He knows I’ve been doing better. I’ve been eating better and feeling better, but his concern lingers.
“You gotta eat, Kai.”
“Yeah, and I will in a minute. Stop worrying so much about me. Now if you’ll excuse me, it’s homemade spa time.”
I head to my bedroom, scoop my hair up into two loop ponytails high on either side of my head, and spread the avocado mask onto my face. I chill in my Partridge Family nightshirt, flipping through the latest LUCKY magazine while the mask hardens.
“Kai, your phone’s ringing,” San calls from the front room. “R. Geritol calling.”
I’m up and off the bed before I’ve blinked twice, sprinting to the kitchen and snatching up my phone from the counter. Rhyson’s face is onscreen in FaceTime mode.
“Kai, you’ve still got the . . .” San trails off with a small smile. “Never mind.”
“Hi, Rhys.” I walk with the phone back into my bedroom. He’s been in New York for a few days, and it’s so good to see his smile, even if it is on a tiny screen.
“Um . . . Kai?” Rhyson stands outside on a sidewalk, a grin taking up half his face. “What’s that all over your . . . ?”
He circles his face with a finger, and I glance into the corner of the screen and screech like a banshee when my green face stares back at me from the tiny block.
“Oh, God. Let me wash this off.”
“No way. I only have a few minutes.”
“Rhys, do you honestly expect me to have this conversation wearing an avocado mask?”
“I honestly do. You look really cute.”
“Yeah, to aliens. I’m probably excreting extraterrestrial pheromones.”
“Call me ET.” He laughs at his own corny joke. “Cut me some slack. My day has been nonstop, and I’m exhausted. I really do only have a few minutes, so leave the mask for the sake of time.”
I groan and settle onto the edge of the bed, my cheeks burning with a blush that probably headlights through the green goop.
“Look where I am.” He repositions the phone up so I see the sign behind and above him.
“Southern Hospitality, huh?” I think of my salad waiting in the fridge, and my stomach protests with a growl. “Isn’t that Justin Timberlake’s spot?”