Chapter 7
Blowing off Jenny last night was a stupid move that resulted in a hundred more text messages from her. I ended up sending another text, a lie, saying sorry but I had gotten sick. And now, two days later, I’m a little terrified of what I’ve gotten myself into.
“This girl is certifiably crazy,” I tell Bryce as I restock the bowl of Lokai bracelets on the counter.
He nods, as if in a daze, while he scrolls through her messages on my phone. He’s been over here since I arrived this morning with my dad. Bryce hit up the bonfire party last night and crashed on the sand.
I don’t envy the hangover he has, but I haven’t camped out on the beach in a while and I miss it. When the air is cool and breezy and the smell of salt water has coated your skin, nothing is more blissful than sleeping on an old blanket on top of the sand. The sound of the ocean lulls you to sleep, and the stars in the sky make a perfect view. I make a promise to myself that I will camp at the beach before the summer is over.
“I don’t know what to do,” I say, using a box cutter to slice open a new box of merchandise. “She knows where I work now.”
“Get a restraining order,” Bryce says, handing the phone back to me with a grimace. “Oh, and delete that dating app. Maybe you can sue them for setting you up with a crazy person.”
I laugh and then take his advice and uninstall that app. “I’d definitely rather be single than have to deal with another girl like Jenny. But I don’t think I’ll go to the cops just yet. They’ll probably find a way to blame it on me.”
“Come out to the bonfire with us,” he says, his dark eyes wide with anticipation.
I lift my shoulders. “You’re not going to find quality girls at the bonfire.”
“Any hot girl is a quality girl,” Bryce says, letting out a groan. “Stop being so picky.”
“I’m notpicky,” I say, emphasizing the word. “I just want someone real and someone that’s not a party girl who will ditch me for the next guy that comes along. That’s not picky, that’s being true to myself.”
He gives me a look and then spots an unopened snack sized bag of Cheetos under the counter and grabs it. “You don’t know how to have a good time, man. Stop worrying about forever and worry about right now.”
My phone goes off with another text, and then two and then five. They’re all from Jenny.
Bryce loves talking shit, but even he looks concerned for me. This situation with a girl I met through a dating app is getting a little out of hand.
I glance up and look for my dad, finding him by the surfboards. To Bryce, I say, “Can you get me if a customer comes up?”
He nods while shoving Cheetos into his mouth, and I slip into the back room and call my cell phone company.
After answering a series of questions to the computer robot on the other end, I’m brought back to the main menu, where the robot voice asks me tosay a few words about why I’m calling.
“I need to block a number,” I say loudly and clearly, but the stupid thing doesn’t get it. “Speak to a representative,” I say, leaning my back against the wall.
The robot voice tells me that the hold time is currently twelve minutes. Great. Stupid music plays over the receiver while I linger around, phone to my ear. I peek out in the shop but we don’t have any customers. Surfers and beach goers don’t really come in before ten in the morning.
The hold music makes me sleepy and I close my eyes while I wait. A few minutes later, Bryce slips into the back room, nodding in a way that means we have customers.
With a sigh, I hang up the phone. Two more texts come in from Jenny, but I ignore them, shoving my phone in my pocket. Maybe I’ll just get an entirely new phone number.
And a new job.
And a new way of meeting girls.
***
By the afternoon, I have a new routine every time I check my phone: delete Jenny’s texts unread.
Honestly, there’s not enough time in the day to read everything she’s sending me, and from what I’ve seen at a glance, her texts are now paragraphs long. She’s telling me about herself and seemingly every detail about her life that she can remember. I delete them all.
Around dinner time, Mom stops by the shop and talks Dad into going out to dinner with her. Apparently my sister is staying at her friend’s house, and Mom thought it’d be a great night for a date with my dad. I wish I hadn’t overheard that though, because the weirdly flirty look she gave my dad kind of made me want to throw up.
But with Dad gone, at least Bryce and I have the shop all to ourselves so we can talk about the latest disaster that is my dating life.
“Dude, she still hasn’t stopped texting me,” I say once a customer leaves.
