Page 40 of Hula Girl

Leaning her head on my shoulder for a second, she then looks up at me and says, “You’re a romantic, too, Surfer Boy.”

I shrug that off. I’m not about to admit that I can’t recall the last time I felt the urge to do such things with a woman. That it’s only withherthat I’ve considered being that way.

Soon enough we’ve arrived at her car. We both hesitate.

“Well,” she says, being the brave one to speak first, “thanks for making my vacation so wonderful.”

“It was my honor,” I tell her. “Really, I’m just happy that chicken ran you off the road. Worked out in my favor.”

She laughs. “I’d say to text me some time, but I know it’s virtually impossible with your relic of a phone.”

“It’s not impossible.” I think we both know I’m referring to more than texting. I’d love for us to walk away from this believing that somehow, this isn’t really the end.

“Would you mind—would it be okay if I took a selfie of us?” she asks.

“Here,” I say, holding out my hand for her phone, “I’ll do it.”

When she gives me her phone, I deftly find my way to the camera option. She turns sideways, holding me with both arms around the waist and looking up at the phone. Adjusting it so that the blue water and willowy palm trees can be seen behind us, I take several photos.

“Can you even receive photos on that old-fashioned thing you call a phone?” she asks with a laugh.

“No. And I’ve never been so tempted to buy a smartphone.”

“I’ll mail you a copy. Send it to the music school?”

“That would be great.” Again, silence falls between us. “Ava, safe travels. And hey, maybe I’ll get over to the mainland and—”

“I appreciate it, but you don’t have to say that.”

“No, I mean it. I would like—”

“I’d like it, too. But we can be honest that the odds probably aren’t in our favor, right?”

“Well, I guess that’s a pretty pragmatic attitude.”

She smirks. “Pragmatism is usually my default. Just … not so much these past few days.”

“Lucky for me,” I tell her and she laughs with a small shrug.

“And me.”

Smiling, I beckon for her to come in for a hug. She’s petite, but I like the way she fits against me. I hold her longer than a simple hug should last, but finally give her a kiss and let her go. I should tell her that the odds are definitely in our favor because I’ll be in LA soon, but with not knowing exactly how my time there will go, I don’t want to make promises. I’d rather reach out to her once I’m there and know exactly when I have the time to see her. Besides that, if I pushed the idea of seeing her over there, she’d probably pull those walls of hers up and retreat, worrying that her vacation fling is obsessive.

“Take care,” she says, pulling away and getting into her rental car.

“You too.”

And that’s it. She drives off with just a little wave of her hand out the window as she goes.

I’ll be damned if I ever meet someone like her again.

14

Ava

“This is not like you,mija,” my mother says. “I thought you couldn’t wait to get home from vacation and back to work?”

I’ve come here to her house straight from the airport, having spent the five-hour plane ride doing nothing but thinking of Ford while staring at our photo together, like some lovesick teenager. This ache in my chest is so unfamiliar. I thought I could have a little fun with a gorgeous surfer and leave it all behind. I was wrong. He turned out to be more than a vacation fling. God, he was so much more. Why did he have to be so smart and charming and intuitively supportive of me? Why did he have to be, not just a bit of fun, but perfect would-be relationship material?

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