Mari sat forward in her chair, elbows on the table. “Wait, I thought you were joking. Are you seriously an Instagram influencer now?”
“Kind of. I’m a nano-influencer.”
“What the hell is that?”
“According to The New York Times, nanos are the most powerful of all the influencer groups. They don’t have a ton of followers, but they work with Instagram brands by posting ads in their feeds in exchange for free products.”
“So, you haven’t actually made any money off of this?”
“No.” She grunted, smug, and I quickly added, “But I get paid in free stuff.”
“What brands are you advertising for?”
“A luxury shoe designer just contacted me this morning. And I already did a campaign for a cosmetics company.”
“You mean the lip gloss that made you break out in hives?”
I didn’t have to answer that.
“I’m just saying, this process works. I was skeptical at first, too, but it’s worth giving it a shot. Especially if you’re considering giving up. You’re so talented, Mari, and the world needs your videos.”
She smiled. “Thanks.”
Her smile didn’t last long because there was suddenly an angry customer at the register, screaming at Logan.
“What do you mean you can’t break a hundred-dollar bill?” he bellowed. “What kind of coffee shop doesn’t stock small bills in their register?”
“Goddammit,” Mari whispered under her breath. “These fucking people. You know, if I worked in an office, I would be the one making the coffee orders, not the one taking them.”
“I’m sure you’d treat the baristas with the utmost respect.”
“And I’d always leave a dollar in the tip jar.”
“Where is your manager?” The man was in full disgruntled consumer mode. “I’d like to speak to whomever’s in charge here.”
“That’s you,” I said, with a smirk.
We stood up and exchanged a quick hug. “Keep your phone handy, I might need someone to bail me out if I lose it on this guy.”
“I’m actually headed to the beach right now to go swimming with Trey, so if you get arrested just text me the deets.”
“Swimming? Who are you and what have you done with Bree Bozeman?”
I tapped my temple. “I told you, I’m shifting my mindset.”
“Well, good luck,” she said. “And don’t step on any stingrays this time.”
While Mari went inside to pacify the man with the hundred-dollar bill, I walked around the patio and down the path to Cass Street, then made my way a few blocks west to the beach. It was the perfect day for a dip in the water, with warm, gentle breezes and not a cloud in the sky. But as the ocean came into view, the waves rolling forward and crashing against the sand with echoing cracks, my nerves started to fire on all cylinders.
Maybe this was a mistake. Not everyone was meant to be a water dweller, and I’d already proven myself to be clumsy in the surf. Besides, there were too many potential dangers. Last time, the stingray got me in the foot, but next time it could be my heart.
Worse, I could have a close encounter with a shark, which wasn’t as far-fetched an idea as you might think. Two years ago, a little boy was bitten by a great white while diving for lobsters in Encinitas. By some miracle, he survived, but knowing me, I wouldn’t be so lucky.
I was so close now, though, I couldn’t turn around and leave. Odds were, I’d be fine. This was merely my fear talking. To make progress, I had to push those fears aside, stop making excuses, and start moving forward.
With every step I took toward the lifeguard tower, I muttered an affirmation under my breath.
“I am fierce.”
“I am fearless.”
“I am a warrior.”
And then I saw Trey standing where the sand met the sidewalk, wearing nothing but patterned, blue board shorts. He stared off into the ocean with this intense, brooding look, probably reading the waves or communing with the water or whatever it was he did.
As I approached, he turned toward me with his perfect smile, his eyes all crinkly. “Hey.”
“Hey, yourself.” Man, he was hot.
His smile faded to a concerned frown. “I see what you mean about your face. Are you okay?”
Goddammit.
“I had an allergic reaction. I’m fine now, it’s just...residual.”
“Oh, good.” The smile returned. “You ready?”
“Ready!” I said, with possibly a little too much enthusiasm. Because I wasn’t feeling ready; I was feeling terrified, and now that I was mere steps from the shoreline, I regretted this stupid decision. When I’d said yes, I’d been thinking with my loins instead of my brains, imagining how nice it would be to get up close and personal with Trey, pressing our bodies together in the salty swell of the Pacific as his strong arms supported me and my legs wrapped around his hips and...
Okay, this was a good idea, after all.
“You can leave your bag and stuff in here.” He pointed through the glass doors into the lifeguard station. “They know me, it’s okay.”
“Great.” I pulled my dress over my head and stuffed it in my bag, then set it inside on the floor next to my flip-flops. “Let’s do this.”
He met my eyes, beaming. “Let’s do this.” Then he grabbed me by the hand and led me toward the water.
When his fingers threaded through mine, every last iota of doubt and fear dissolved into nothing. Whatever happened out there, he was my spotter. If I got scared, I could simply cling to him in a completely platonic and not-at-all amorous way.
We paused at the water’s edge, where I took a deep, centering breath. The briny air was sharp and cool.
“How are you feeling?” he asked.
“Surprisingly good.” And I meant it. Sure, there was that low-level fear lingering in the background, but mostly, I was excited to tackle this new challenge. To be the girl who swims fearlessly in the ocean.
“Before we go in,” he said, “I want you to know that you can tell me to stop at any time. We can go at your pace, however fast or slow you want, okay? It’s important to me that you’re comfortable.”
I couldn’t help but smirk. “Exactly what are we getting into here?”
His cheeks flushed when he realized the unintentional double entendre. “I just mean, I don’t want you to get into another situation where you’re panicking. This should be a positive experience, without any fear.”