“Yeah, man, you were robbed.”
“You think you’ll be back in for Pipe Masters?”
Trey turned bright pink as his eyes darted from the kids to the ground to me and back. “Uh...not sure.”
An awkward silence ensued, then the guys looked at each other and said, “Well, it was awesome meeting you.”
“And we’re pulling for you, man.”
One guy whipped out his phone and switched on the camera. “Do you think we could get a pic?”
The table trembled as Trey’s knee bounced up and down. He didn’t respond at first, and I could tell he was thinking about which social media outlet this selfie would end up on. Finally, he said, “You know what, guys? I really appreciate your support, but I’m not comfortable taking a photo right now.”
All three of their mouths fell open in unison, totally shocked that anyone would turn down a photo op. It would’ve been hilarious if the vibe wasn’t so tense.
“Cool, yeah.” The guy put his phone back in his pocket. “Well, good luck with everything.”
They took off down Mission Boulevard with their heads huddled together, most likely whispering about what the hell Trey Cantu’s problem was. For his part, Trey regarded the remainder of his burrito with disgust before carelessly tossing it onto a napkin.
The whole thing was so uncomfortable, I didn’t know what to say. So I said nothing and tucked into my food with renewed zeal, while a thousand questions ran through my head: What happened in Sydney? Who was Zander? And why was Trey robbed?
“That was awkward,” Trey said, scrubbing a hand through his salty hair. “Sorry.”
I waved away his apology. “You have nothing to be sorry for. They were just excited to see you. I told you, you’re famous.”
He grunted. “I can’t believe SurfRack made those stupid posters. I mean, I get it, the advertising brings in business. But I told them I wanted to be low-key about it.”
“You can’t really blame them for using your celebrity status to attract customers, though.”
“No, I guess not.” He took a long swig from his Coke. “I think I’m just still feeling burned by Shayla. She always used her relationship with me to score brand partnerships and stuff. Now that she’s with Zander, though, I’m sure she’s getting twice as much work out of it.”
Oh, boy. We were deep in the ex-files. If Trey was still pining over Shayla, perhaps it was a bad idea to keep spending time with him. I wasn’t interested in being his rebound. “When did you guys break up?”
“Five months ago.” He shook his head. “I’m over her completely, I’m just mad at myself for staying with her for so long. We were wrong for each other from the start.”
“I know what you mean. I wasted three years of my life with a part-time dispensary clerk who spent most of his waking hours baked out of his mind. Then, seven months ago, he dumped me out of the blue to go trip his face off with some psychedelic healer in the Amazon rainforest.”
Trey gave a great chuckle of disbelief but abruptly stopped himself. “I’m sorry to laugh, it’s just...who does that?”
“It’s okay to laugh. I’m finally at the point where I can laugh about it, too.” As soon as I said that, I felt it was true. Rob was no longer a negative force in my life. He was completely irrelevant, and I was completely over him. Now he was nothing more than an extended anecdote from my past. A joke.
We bused our table and walked back home, talking about things other than our exes. Positive, happy things, like our mutual love of Jordan Peele movies and the upcoming Pacific Beach Street Fair. As we turned onto Beryl Street, I shifted my purse from one arm to the other and felt my phone buzzing inside. When I pulled it out, Natasha’s name flashed on the screen, so I sent it to voice mail, as usual.
While debating who served the best fish taco in town—I said PB Shore Club, Trey said PB Fish Shop—Natasha called again. Assuming this was another one of her nonemergencies, I declined it, and almost immediately, she sent me a text.
Please call me, Bree. Super urgent.
If Natasha was sending texts, there was definitely something wrong. I interrupted Trey in the middle of his comparative taco analysis to say, “I’m really sorry, but I think my sister has some sort of emergency. I need to call her.”
“Of course. I hope everything’s okay.”
I shrugged and hit the call button, silently hoping everything was okay, too.
Natasha answered before the first ring completed its chime, sounding breathless. “Thank God you called. Are you free tonight?”
“Yes, why, what’s wrong?”
“Tonight’s the San Diego Orthodontists Gala in La Jolla, but our replacement sitter just canceled at the last minute.”
“Oh, I can watch Izzy, no problem.”
She sighed with intense relief. “Thank you so much, you’re a lifesaver. I’ll send a Lyft for you in a couple of hours. Say, three o’clock? That should give you plenty of time to get up here with Friday traffic. And feel free to stay overnight. Stay the whole weekend, if you want.”
“Thanks, I think I will.” A weekend at Natasha’s was like a luxury getaway. Her queen-size guest bed had the fluffiest pillow-top mattress, and the guest bathroom had one of those rainfall showerheads. She subscribed to an expanded cable package with all the premium channels, plus there was a hot tub in the backyard. And, of course, it was always fun to hang out with Izzy.
When I hung up, Trey asked, “All good?”
“Yeah. She just needs me to babysit tonight.” I tossed my phone in my purse and when I looked up, we were already standing in front of the adorable blue bungalow. “I should go get ready, wash this salt out of my hair. I had a great time today.”
“So did I.” He smiled. “Can’t wait to do it again. When can we get you out on a board?”
“I’m spending the weekend at my sister’s, and I’m not sure of my work schedule next week. Text me and we’ll figure something out, okay?”
“Sounds good.” His mouth opened like he was going to say something else, but he quickly closed it. He cleared his throat, rubbed the back of his neck, and tried again. “I want to kiss you right now, but—” he pointed to my lips “—I know you’re in pain, so...” He took my left hand in both of his and raised it to his mouth. Before he made contact, he looked at me, and said, “Is this okay?”
I nodded, and he kissed the back of my hand. His lips were soft and slightly wet, and they lingered for an extra beat before he turned my hand over and kissed my palm in the same slow, sensuous way. It sent sparks shooting up my arm, straight to my heart, and when he ran the pad of his thumb slowly over the soft spot on my inner wrist, I swore my vision got blurry. This simple gesture was arguably more erotic than any sexual experience I’d ever had in the three years I’d been with Rob.