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And two, Rick the intern is looking at me. And the expression on his face chills me to the bone.
Chapter Ten
“Come on, Chloe! Let’s go out!” Tori’s whining is driving me crazy, just as she intends. “We haven’t been dancing in forever. ”
“Because the last time we went clubbing, I got groped on the dance floor. You know how I feel about that. ”
“That’s what dance floors are for!” She flops back onto the sofa. “I swear, hanging with you is like hanging with my ninety-year-old grandma. Only without the interesting stories. ”
I don’t take offense. Partly because I know she’s poking at me, hoping to get a rise, and partly because I know she’s right. I’m a pretty boring person. During the school year, I’m too busy to party because of my heavy class load and the job that helps pay for my tuition. Now that it’s summer, I’m busy with my internship. Honestly, it’s a wonder she hasn’t traded me in for a better friend yet.
“Why don’t you go?” I tell her. “I’m perfectly okay just hanging out here. ”
She rolls her eyes. “I bailed on you yesterday. I’m not going to do it two days in a row. ”
“You’re not bailing on me. It’s not like we had plans for tonight. ”
“It was implied when I took off yesterday. ” She sighs heavily. “Fine. No club. What movie do you want to watch?” She sounds so put-upon and so resigned that I can’t help laughing. And try to compromise.
“There’s a bonfire down at the beach tonight. One of the Save Our Oceans groups organized it. They got the fire department involved and everything, so it’s legal. There’s a five-dollar donation to hang out, and they’ll have street tacos. Beer. Margaritas. We could try that. ”
“Yay! Let’s go change. ” She bounces to her feet, throws her arms around my neck. “Thank you for going out with me. ”
I laugh. “Well, it’s not any fun staying home watching movies if you’re not into it. Besides, I like bonfires. ”
“Me too. You know what else I like?” she asks, licking her lips.
“Street tacos?” I tease.
She throws a pillow at me and we both laugh as it hits me in the face. “I was thinking more along the lines of the guys who eat them. ”
Tori already has her shirt off and she hasn’t even left the living room yet. But that’s my roommate for you, no modesty whatsoever. Which makes me worry about her a little, especially when I think about what she considers appropriate public attire. And yes, I know that makes me sound like I really am ninety—but that’s only because you haven’t gone out in public with her when she’s dressed in a see-through shirt with nothing underneath.
I change quickly, into a pair of jean shorts and a white off-the-shoulder peasant blouse. It’s not my usual style—way too relaxed—but Tori bought it for me and I know she’ll love to see me wearing it. Besides, if I can’t relax at a beach bonfire, then I figure there’s no hope for me.
Fifteen minutes after I make the suggestion, we’re walking up Prospect toward La Jolla Shores. One of the best things about living with Tori is the fact that her apartment is only about a mile walk from one of the most beautiful beaches in the country—which is awesome considering the disaster that is parking around here.
The beach is already crowded when we get there—or I suppose I should say still crowded. It’s a beautiful day and the tourists have obviously come out in droves, but Save Our Oceans has set up a pretty large bonfire on the north end of the beach. They’ve also got a bunch of food trucks set up, selling everything from street tacos and margaritas to gourmet cheesecake. Normally San Diego has an ordinance that prohibits drinking on the beach, but SOO has a large area around the bonfire roped off—people inside the ropes can drink, as long as they purchase the alcohol from one of the vendors at the fund-raiser and don’t take it beyond the ropes.
It’ll be at least an hour before the sun sets and a little longer than that before they light the bonfire, so Tori and I pay our entrance fee and then head for the sand castle contest going on down by the shore.
Imperial Beach in South San Diego has one of the most elaborate sand-castle-building competitions in the nation, with people coming from all over to participate or watch the amazing creations the artists come up with. I’ve gone down for it every year that I’ve lived in San Diego, and every year I’m in awe of what people come up with.
I can’t say the same about the castles we’re walking by tonight. Most of them are tiny and ill-formed, slanting sideways, or just plain disastrous. Still, it’s fun to see them, and when Tori grabs a bucket, plops herself down in the middle of a pile of sand, and calls, “Come on, Chloe! Let’s make one,” I can’t resist the invitation.
The only problem is that neither one of us has ever made a sand castle before. Within minutes I’ve got a whole new respect for the small, sad-looking dwellings popping up all around us, because all we’ve managed to do is build a round-looking hill. And it’s not even much of a hill.
I keep packing the bucket with wet sand and then turning it over to dump it out, just like everyone around us. But instead of coming out in the shape of the bucket, our sand just plops out in a crumbly mess. Over and over and over again.
“I’m getting hungry,” Tori says after we’ve tried—and failed—for about the twentieth time.
“We’re not quitting,” I tell her through gritted teeth. “There must be a secret to this. ”
“If there is, we don’t know it. ”
“Well, we’re going to figure it out. ” I nod toward a boy of nine or ten who has managed to build a towering castle, complete with turret and drawbridge. “If he can do that, surely we can build a one room hovel. ”
She looks at my latest disaster with raised brows. “Somehow I’m not so sure. ”
