“But?”
I shrug, not wanting to make excuses or offend him. “Show me around instead. Take me somewhere local and fun.”
He laughs and says, “You realize where we are, right? Nothing much around here but touristy things.”
“Come on,” I say. “Show me where you go with the guys. Or where you’d take a local girl on a date if a massive thunderstorm was on the way.”
“Really?”
“Sure, I want the insider’s track to Ocean Beach.”
“If you say so,” he says, still looking skeptical. “Go get ready. I’ll wait out here.”
“Ten minutes,” I say, leaving him under the canopy as the first drops of rain start to fall.
The storm rageshard enough outside that I can hear the thunder over the pinball machines, although the two kids fighting over foosball in the corner are making enough racket to compete. The air is greasy and everything has a fishy, fried smell, but the basket of fries between us tastes like heaven.
“Do you eat hot sauce on everything?” he asks, dipping a fry into his own glob of ketchup.
“Duh. It’s delicious.”
“Gross.”
“Ketchup is gross. It’s all sugar and tomatoes. Barf.” We smile at one another over the dingy, hard booth in the corner of an arcade-snack shop. I asked for the real Ocean Beach. Apparently, this is it. “So this is where you take your local girls, huh?”
He swallows a bite of hamburger and wipes his mouth. “Oh definitely, you know, if we didn’t meet here in the first place.”
“Wait, like, you picked girls up here?” I gave him the side-eye.
“Yeah, this is the hot place to find a girl—especially a tourist type. They love to hook up with a townie.” He flashes me a charming grin. “It’s like fulfilling some summer romance thing for them.”
He gestures over to the foosball table and sure enough, there are two girls, dressed a little nice for an arcade, eyeing the boys showing off. No wonder they were making all that noise. It’s like some kind of adolescent mating call.
“You’re saying you had some kind of notch on your bed post scam going on? Like, how many girls could you bang in asummer?” I’m half kidding. Not really angry, but a little curious. Am I one of those girls?
He shoots me a serious look. “First of all, yeah, I always chased tourist tail. All of us did. The townie girls around here want babies and a trailer before high school graduation. You know that isn’t in our plans. This way we met girls from all over the country, hung out a little, asked a lot of questions and sure, hooked up with a couple.”
“Okay, I get that,” I say, but then narrow my eyes. “How many is a couple?”
“A few?” he dodges, that same damn smile creeping back. “Some of the girls I kept in touch with. Social media and stuff.”
“Ah, a few managed to be more than a summer fling? What about the pact?”
“I don’t know. As much as it could be when you live hundreds of miles apart and the minute they step out of this place you no longer have anything in common.” He lifts his shoulders with a hint of wistfulness and I realize he probably really did like some of them. Maybe that’s another reason they made the pact in the first place. Easier to move on.
“Tell me, Mr. Hawkins, if you and I met here one rainy summer night, how would that go?” I bat my eyelashes at him playfully.
He raises an eyebrow. “Well, we all had our special talents. Nick would go outside and talk about the stars and moon on the bench out front. He’s the romantic. And Pete would talk about music, dropping knowledge all over the place.”
“And Whit?”
“Whit doesn’t have to do anything. Girls just flock around him. He could fuck a different tourist every night and no one would blink.”
Hmmm… “And you?”
“I had a whole system. First I would show off my mad skills on the KISS pinball machine over there.” He jerks his thumb toward the corner. “Then once I got your interest I would cuss a little to show how tough I am.”
“Really? That works?”
