Wait... Is that a thing?
No. He's drunk.
I ignore him.
"I don't want to lead you on, Cynthia," I say, turning back to her. "I don't really have the money for my own studio yet. But I'm working on it. Thanks for the card."
"Well," Cynthia says, drawing my attention back. "that's actually why I wanted to talk to you. I have an investor looking to fill an empty unit in Malibu. It's been sitting vacant, and they're eager to work with someone who can prove their clientele. They'd be willing to help with the startup costs through a loan."
I freeze. "Are you serious?"
Her wide smile lights up the dimly lit campsite. "I am! But hey, let's not ruin tonight with business talk. How about we grab coffee next weekend and discuss it more?"
"That would be..." I struggle to find the words, feeling a mix of disbelief and elation. "That would be a dream come true. I mean, the studio.But coffee with you sounds nice, too."
She laughs.“We’re friends. I’m happy to hook you up, Andrew.”
I nod, slipping her card into my back pocket and silently telling myself not to get my hopes up. But if this works... Cynthia might just be an angel.
I notice Vince slip away from the group, and I know exactly where he's headed: the same path to the beach I always take.
The weight of that conversationhe wants to havehas been pressing on my chest all week, a heavy stone lodged beneath my ribs. Every morning run, every shared laugh, every casual text has felt like borrowed time before the inevitable. In the quiet hours between midnight and dawn, my mind has replayed every possibility, each one worse than the last.
He's going to sever our friendship, cut me off with those gentle eyes turned cold.
Or worse—he'll tell me I've made him uncomfortable, that my feelings have twisted something pure into something awkward and unwanted.
I've been rehearsing my goodbyes, my explanations, my apologies for wanting more than I should.
But I have my own confession burning a hole in my pocket, a fragile hope I've been nursing all week. Finally, after days of unanswered calls and dead-end messages, Samantha's voice came through the phone line. What she agreed tohas been my secret weapon, my desperate attempt to stitch together what I tore apart. Now, as I watch Vince's silhouette recede toward the beach, I can only pray it's enough to mend what I broke.
Wait.
I suddenly notice Aubrey hasn’t been at my side.
The campsite bustles as usual; Gary's friend group is massive, which is why he always reserves the group site.To my relief, I see Aubrey talking with Frank at one of the tables.
I jog over to Todd, who sits next to Wayne with a beer in hand. Leaning closer so he can hear me over the noise.
“Hey Todd, can you do me a huge favor?"
Todd shoots me a skeptical look. "Depends.”
"Can you babysit Aubrey for a bit? I need to talk to Vince real quick, and I promised Aubrey I wouldn't leave him alone."
Todd groans and exchanges a look with Wayne, who smirks knowingly before taking a sip of his beer. Wayne rarely says much, but when he does, his deep voice with a hint of a Southern accent is always worth hearing.
Todd sighs dramatically. "Andrew, honestly,I'm kind of over Aubrey's drama. He can be a big boy, you know?No one should have to babysit him. He’s in his twenties, acting fifteen."
"I promised him," I insist. "You'd be doing me the favor, not Aubrey."
Todd rolls his eyes.
"You know what? Never mind," I say quickly, deciding not to waste any more time convincing him.
I spot Gary nearby and tug on his elbow. "Hey, can you watch over Aubrey for me? Just for a few minutes. Make sure Eli stays away, and I'll be right back."
Gary frowns playfully. "Where are you running off to, hun?"
