Chapter 8 #2
Sauce dribbles down her chin and I absently hold a napkin up, eyes locked on hers. Her cheeks turn slightly pink as she takes the napkin to clean up the mess.
Dammit, I knew I wouldn’t be good at this friend stuff. Friends don’t like staring at their friend’s pouty lips.
“Anyway,” she says, tearing her gaze from mine, changing the subject. “I just love the Bees. Did you hear they all got on the cliff and mooned someone named Jonah Black when he was parking his boat?”
I laugh. “No, I didn’t know that. But I will be sure to give Jonah crap about that.”
“They’re hilarious,” she says.
“They’re something.”
“They really are,” she murmurs, a wistful tone lacing her words. “And this is really good. You keep spoiling me like this, I’ll be here every morning with coffee.”
I wouldn’t hate that.
Marina showed up later and looked at me with a smirk when she saw Silvie working in the corner. She’s still got her laptop open, one leg tucked under her, and she’s been working non-stop.
I ignore Marina’s smirk and pretend to organize receipts, even though I’ve already done it twice.
“Since when do customers bring laptops here to work like we’re a coffee shop?” she whispers as she walks behind me and puts on her apron.
“Ha, ha.” I roll my eyes playfully. “She needed a place to work, and it was quiet here.”
“Mmmm, hmmm,” she says as she clocks in on the cash register. “I’ve seen you chase off tourists for that.”
“She’s Birdie’s. She’s not really a tourist,” I say as I restock the shelves.
The bar is still quiet, and early beachgoers have trickled in for food and drinks.
Marina stops to chat with Silvie, who smiles at her and laughs at something she says.
I love the way her whole face lights up when she talks to people.
Like you’re the only person in the room.
She gives her whole attention. It’s mesmerizing to watch.
Another hour goes by, and I slide back into the chair across from her. She looks up as if she forgot where she was. “Oh my gosh. I’ve been here for a while. I should get out of your hair.”
I hold up a hand. “Just came over to check on you and see if you wanted lunch.”
She bites that sexy, plump lip that I’ve thought about biting.
“I wouldn’t mind a bite to eat,” she says as she reaches for a menu on the table. “Can I buy you lunch?”
I laugh. “No, you don’t have to do that. But I can place your order if you’d like.”
“Can I please get the chicken cobb salad with extra croutons?”
I smirk. “Sure. I’ll get that going.”
I put it in and made up a bunch of orders for the beach crowd. Music changes up, and when I look her way again, she’s dancing a little in her chair, and it’s adorable.
“You always look like that when you work?” I ask as I set down her salad and a water that she didn’t ask for, but I brought anyway.
She glances up. “Like what?”
“I don’t know. Happy?”
She snorts and closes the laptop. “That couldn’t be a farther assessment from the truth.”
I lean back against the counter. “You ever take a real break? Like a real vacation?”
She looks like she’s considering what I’m saying. “I’m trying to. That’s kind of the point of this summer.”
“Yeah?”
She nods. “I’m trying to find myself. Or at least figure out who I am when I’m not working ninety hours a week. I’m supposed to take over the company, but I don’t want the life my dad had. No time for a life and everything revolved around work.”
“That sounds exhausting,” I admit. But then I call myself out on it because I work a heavy load as well. But not near that much.
She smiles sadly. “It is. But I do love most of it.”
Her phone buzzes on the bar. She looks at the screen, and the light in her face dims just a notch. Her jaw goes tight, and she gives a small sigh. She flips the phone face down without answering it. But I did notice “Tyler the Turd” flashing on the screen.
“Who is Tyler the Turd?”
“My ex.” She fidgets in her seat, a frown marring her features.
“Ahh. Turd worthy.”
“Yep, not worth discussing,” she says as she takes a sip of her water. “And thank you for this.”
Since we’re “friends” now, I wonder if she’ll ever confide in me. She says it’s not worth discussing, but it can’t be good bottling it in.
“So, what did you mean when you said you were going to find yourself this summer?” I ask instead of probing about her douchebag ex like I want to. “Are you lost?”
“You could say that,” she says thoughtfully. “I’ve spent the past five years working hard to take over my family’s company. And I haven’t taken breaks. I work non-stop. And last month...everything just fell apart.”
I wait for her to continue. She doesn’t.
“What about you?” she asks instead as she takes another bite. “What’s your story?”
I lean back in the chair. “Nothing much. I’m from Coconut Beach. My mom had me young and raised me here. I’m close with Jonah Black, who owns Cocktails & Chaos. I manage the place for him and bartend.”
“Oh, yes. The guy the Bees mooned,” she says as she grins.
I like her bright smile that’s brought on by the mention of the Bees so much that I want to see more of it. She’s clearly entertained and happy. It inspires me to lean into this new “friend” role just to see if I can make her smile some more.
“What do you like to do?” I ask after a beat.
She blinks. “What do you mean?”
“For fun. What makes you feel good?”
Her eyebrows pinch together as if the question confuses the intelligent workaholic city girl.
“Um, well, back home, I have a pretty solid routine. I get up early and run. Then I work until late and get up and do it again the next day.” She frowns.
“And every day after that looks much the same.” She shakes her head.
“When I say it out loud, it sounds pretty lame.”
I’m glad she found her way to Coconut Beach. This place has a way of making you focus on the things that matter. People can shake off the mundane of their everyday life and do a little soul searching.
“It’s not lame,” I assure her. “I work a lot too. I fish with Jonah on his boat once a week, and I manage the bar and work shifts here. I get it. I work a lot, too.”
Fishing with Jonah though is one of my times of peace where I can just be me. I can turn my brain off and just live in the moment.
“I do like being outside,” she says thoughtfully. “Moving my body until my brain shuts up. Yoga has been surprisingly fun.”
I don’t like thinking about her “moving” her body. Okay, so I do like thinking about that, but I don’t want to.
“I’m a runner too,” I blurt out to shake away the image of her stretching and bending on her yoga mat.
Her eyes flick to mine and she smirks. “Well, well, well. Maybe we do have a few things in common. We both run and work a lot.”
She giggles and my stomach tightens in response. I really like that sound. Being around her is easy. Too easy. My brain is screaming warnings at me: We don’t do this, man.
She’s just a friend, my heart argues back.
“Running keeps me sane,” I admit softly. There’s a pause as she eats her salad, and I say casually, “Maybe we could run together sometime. You know...as friends.”
The word “friends” sits between us, comfortable yet charged.
But “friends” is supposed to be safe, dammit. Why doesn’t it feel safe at all?
She smiles and looks down. “I’d love a running partner. You sure you can keep up? I’m pretty competitive, Cal.”
“Oh, really? Like super-fast or what?” I tease.
“The fastest,” she says, a taunting glint in her eyes. “I’m just kidding. I run like a normal person. Running for me has been a way to think. To get my anxiety and frustrations out. Now...I’ve been doing yoga, and that’s been a change of pace.”
Again, with the yoga and imagining her contorting her lithe body into a million different positions.
I look out at the water, and it clears the filthy images from my mind. “What about surfing?”
“What about it?”
“Ever been?”
She laughs. “No, but I’ve seen you surfing, hot surfer.”
Oh, fuck me. What happened to friends? She’s playing a dangerous game, and my brain isn’t strong enough to resist, no matter how much of an inner pep talk I give myself.
I face her fully, unable to keep from playing with her. “Have you now? Well, I may or may not have happened to notice you doing yoga.” I shrug and shoot her a wink.
This isn’t keeping your distance, Cal. This is you stupidly trying to charm her pants off.
“Oh, really? Are you flirting with me, Cal?” she says.
My lips curve before I can stop them, “Nah, friends don’t flirt. Would you like to go surfing with me sometime?”
She laughs. “Sure. I have no idea how to surf, but I’d be down to try.”
“Can you swim?”
She nods. “I swam competitively in college. I told you. I like to win.”
Relief hits me because I don’t love that my brain jumps to worst case scenarios. I just want her to be safe in the water.
“There’s no need to be competitive in surfing,” I say as I glance out at the ocean, sun catching on the surface, making it glitter. “Just ride the wave. Let yourself have fun. Relax.”
Her gaze remains fixated on the ocean as if she’s visualizing herself out there right now.
“How about tomorrow?” I ask, suddenly feeling nervous. It’s dumb to get the jitters because I love surfing. It calms me. Never makes me anxious.
Maybe it’s just her. A change in the routine.
I don’t go surfing with anyone aside from a few friends I’ve had since high school. I have fun at the bar when I work, but I don’t date, and I don’t flirt with tourists.
But she’s been here over a month now. Hell, she’s starting to feel like a local.
She drums her fingertips on her thigh as if she’s taking this in and considering it.
“Okay,” she finally says.
Relief settles into my chest. “Great. Meet me at sunrise. I’ll have the boards.”
She stands and slings her bag over her shoulder, laying down a few bills even though I never brought her a ticket. “I should go before I talk myself out of this bad idea I just committed myself to and take up more of your day. Thank you, Cal.”
“Surfing is never a bad idea.” I chuckle. “You’ll do fine. See you tomorrow.”
She hesitates and then smiles. “Thanks for being my friend.”
There’s a tender thread of vulnerability in that statement and it lands harder than it should.
Because no one thanks you for that unless they really needed it.
She’s a mega-successful boardroom boss babe and yet she’s grateful for a new friendship with the surfer bartender bro.
It makes me want to haul her to me and hold her in my arms.
As friends, of course.
“Any time, Silvie.”
She leaves, humming, almost bouncing, and smiling easily at everyone. She’s different from the woman who blew in here a month ago in a wedding dress. Silvie fits in here. And when she’s gone, the bar feels lonelier without her in here. Like the energy in the air has shifted.
Tomorrow we’re surfing. For the first time in a while, I have something to look forward to.
Standing behind the bar, with the ocean humming outside, I realize I’m looking forward to it way more than I probably should.