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"You make this tea just to toss it?"
She nods fair enough. Takes a long sip. Lets out a soft moan. "This is good."
"What did you expect?"
"I don't know." Her dark eyes find mine. "Your walls are bare."
Yeah, they are. They've been that way for a while. "And?"
"Why?" She moves into the main room. "You can't see any of the white in my bedroom. It's wall-to-wall art."
"Your art?"
"One wall. The rest is other artists. Magazine tear outs. Posters."
"Anyone hot?"
"No." She laughs. "Movie posters."
"Fight Club?"
Her brow scrunches with confusion. "Why Fight Club?"
"It just suits you."
"I thought maybe it was shirtless Brad Pitt."
"Can't object to that."
"Oh."
"Oh?"
"You're not going to start bragging about how you resemble Mr. Pitt?"
"In his dreams he's even close to as hot as I am."
"Uh-huh."
I nod. "Why? You see a resemblance?"
"A little." She takes a long sip of her tea. Lets out a soft sigh. With her next sip, she moves closer. She crosses the distance between us until she's standing in front of the table. "My posters are all old movies. Classics. The ones I used to watch with my mom."
Her mom is gone. I remember that much. "You miss her?"
"A lot." She takes a long sip of her tea. Lets out another soft moan. "What exactly is it we're doing today?"
"Surfing."
A laugh escapes her lips. "Of course. That's perfect."
"I'm not that laid back."
"Yeah, you are. You might as well write nothing bothers me on your forehead."
"You've got me pegged."
She imitates me. "Now, I'll return the favor, sunshine." She makes a show of winking. And throwing out a dorky thumbs-up gesture.
