Sebastian stops and motions to a spot on the beach that is a bit more secluded. He sits beside me on the sand, like he’s going to stand guard. I guess the least I can do is offer him half of my sandwich in thanks. And maybe it’ll get him to stick around a little longer. It’s nice to hang out with someone my age for once.
Eyeing the sandwich in my outstretched hand, he gives me a lopsided smile. “You sure? You don’t need to share with me.”
“It’s a big sandwich,” I reply with a shrug. Satisfaction expands my chest when he takes it. “So, hockey?”
“Oh, yeah. I play goalie. The pads and equipment are pretty expensive, so I wanted to help pay for all of it now that I’m old enough to get a job. I work at the pool a few days a week. It’s not much, but my parents do so much for me, you know?” He looks so earnest as he eats his sandwich.
It’s a huge difference compared to the kids I go to school with. I think if you told one of them they had to get a job, they’d lose their minds. My world is all about how much money youhave, who your parents are, how famous your family is, and what you look like.
I hate it.
“That’s really cool,” I tell him honestly. “How long have you been playing hockey?”
“Pretty much since I could walk.” He grins at me, and my heart flutters again. “It’s my favorite thing. There’s nothing better than being on the ice, stopping what should be an unstoppable shot.”
Have I ever felt that kind of love for something? I’m not sure I have. I love reading—it’s my only real escape from my parents’ world—and I’ve had fun writing short stories in English class, but Sebastian talks about hockey the way my parents talk about acting. Like he’d die if he couldn’t play.
“I’ve never watched a hockey game.”
The way his eyebrows rise is so cute. “Seriously?”
“I live in LA. Not much ice there.”
Sebastian laughs. “LA has a hockey team. The Stars. They’re a solid team. Made it into the first round of the playoffs this season.” He takes a bite of his sandwich and looks at me thoughtfully as he chews. “We could watch a game together. I can explain everything so you know what’s happening.”
He wants to hang out with me and watch a hockey game?
“Really? That would be fun.”
“And I could show you around the island. If you want. A lot of it’s pretty touristy, but there are some fun hidden spots if you know where to look.”
Butterflies take flight in my stomach, and I tell myself not to look too eager. Even though I am. “Oh, yeah. That would be cool.”
“Great. Here, let me put my number in your phone.” He holds out his hand, and I hurry to unlock my phone and open it to the contacts list. He types his number in, along with hisfull name—Sebastian Navarro—and then he sends himself a text from my phone. When he looks up at me, I feel myself flushing again. “There. Now we have each other’s numbers. I don’t work tomorrow, but I can come in with my dad. Do you have plans?”
“Nope.” God, I hope I sounded cool and unaffected and not as nervous as I feel. I’ve never hung out with a boy this cute before. At least not one who had no idea who my parents are. Sebastian doesn’t, and he still wants to be friends with me.
“Well, you do, now, Rosebud.”
My words come out a little breathless when I say, “Rosebud?”
His laughter is warm as it rolls over me, leaving goosebumps in its wake. “Yeah. Your middle name is Rose and your cheeks are the cutest shade of pink.”
He winks at me, and I swear my whole face changes color. If anyone else gave me a nickname like that, I would hate it. But something about this boy makes it different. It feels like a compliment, not a joke at my expense.
I think I like it.
I expected this summer to be boring, even though I was looking forward to getting out of LA. But it’s only our third day here, and I’ve been attacked by a flock of seagulls and saved by the cutest boy I’ve ever met. Who gave me a nickname. And he wants to hang out with me. More than once.
Maybe this summer won’t be so boring after all.
Maybe it will even be the best summer of my life.
And maybe, just maybe, I’ve finally found someone who won’t look at me and see all the ways I fail to measure up to my parents.
one
INDIGO
