15. Stevens

FIFTEEN

Stevens

I can't see anything that I don't like about you.

~ Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind

S o, I couldn’t sleep last night . I start typing before our tiles are even dealt.

SaturdayIslandGirl answers me: Really? What kept you from sleeping?

The first move is mine, so I pause, leaning back in my hammock to consider my options. But my mind drifts to the relaxing afternoon I spent snorkeling on the back side of the island. And then, the biggest surprise of all, I bumped into Alana and her assistant. Seeing her away from Joel’s boat was momentarily jarring. And, she wasn’t just anywhere. She was in my cove—not mine, mine, but the one where I go regularly for a private snorkel.

After Alana and Brigitte left, I sat on the beach, watching the waves roll in and out, enjoying an afternoon with no agenda. Then I stopped by Dustin’s so he could tell me about the plans for his move to Tennessee. He and I ended up grabbing burgers, and now I’m here, in my back yard laying in my hammock, watching the sky turn colors as the sun starts to set.

SaturdayIslandGirl types again: Are you going to tell me what kept you from sleeping, or are you just throwing your insomnia out there and leaving me hanging?

I smile. She always makes me smile the kind of smile that starts somewhere behind my rib cage and spreads to my face. It’s a blend of contentment, intrigue and desire I’ve never felt before.

Why does she have to be on the other side of this screen—and this planet?

Sorry. I was studying my tiles so I didn’t answer you. I couldn’t sleep because I kept wondering what you do for a living.

I lay down AQUEOUS, placing the Q on a double point space.

Hold that thought , she types. I have to focus after you laid down twenty-six points to start the game.

I smile. She’s a true competitor. Whatever she does, I have no doubt she’s the best at it. It’s funny how much I know her, and yet, I don’t know her at all.

Not even a minute later, she types: Aha! Take this! and she lays down CUMQUAT, using my Q and gaining a four point lead, just like that.

How did you do that? I marvel.

I’m a woman of many talents.

One of which is your mysterious career path, I retort.

And you actually lost sleep wondering what I do for a living?

Okay, maybe only a few minutes passed while I was wondering about it before I settled in and got my usual eight hours.

Ha. Okay.

So, permission to ask … What do you do? Because, to be honest, I’ve narrowed it down to a few more options than my original guesses.

Oh? Do tell.

I smile. She sounds flirty. Maybe Kai was right.

I’ve been planning what I’d say to SaturdayIslandGirl for most of the day. Here we go …

First: CIA or a spy. You go on missions for a few months at a time. Then you’re reassigned. You can’t get emotionally invested because your country needs you. You sacrifice romance for patriotism. Of course you can’t admit this to me, or you’d have to have me hunted down and captured—or worse.

The dots appear on her side of the chat box. I just snort-laughed and inhaled a part of my smoothie.

I have that effect on women. I joke. It’s something I’d probably never say in person, but here, online, I’m less inhibited—or maybe it’s just her.

You make women snort and choke?

Now I’m laughing. Not exactly. That didn’t end up sounding as smooth when you repeated it back to me as I thought it did when I typed it.

Neither of us type anything in the chat box for a moment. I spell TREBLE off her T in CUMQUAT.

Eight points? She types.

It’s the lack of sleep, I joke. It’s throwing off my game.

The lack of several minutes of sleep you lost imagining I’m a spy?

Exactly. And I’m gathering from your answers that I hit the nail on the head. You’re a spy.

She lays down BACCHIC, using her own C in CUMQUAT to build the eighteen point word. She’s fourteen points ahead now.

Bacchic, what is that? It’s new to me .

It’s something about being riotous. And, I’ve got a confession.

Oh. I’m all ears. Is it that you’re a spy?

Ha! No. It’s not that. I’ve been reading up on vocabulary words … and I subscribed to the Word of the Day on four platforms.

Mm hmm. Stockpiling weapons, I see. Well, you wouldn’t be a competitor if you didn’t arm yourself properly.

Then, without missing a beat, she types: You are eerily close in one odd detail of what you guessed I do for a living, but if I say that as my official answer, it will throw you off.

Well, that’s not cryptic at all.

Stop making me laugh.

Nevahhhhh! (Insert evil laugh).

She types a laughing emoji. And then asks: What’s your other guess ?

Guesses. Plural. More than one guess. I’ve been giving this a significant amount of thought.

Okay, well, what’s your next guess?

I chuckle.

You are a bank robber. Or jewelry thief. You work heists in various cities. Can’t stay still or you’ll be caught. You are on America’s Top Fifty Most Wanted list. You actually work for the mafia. No. No. You’re related to the head of the mafia. You have a strong accent, much like the Godfather, but you’re a female, so … the Godmother?

It’s dead silent on her end. Did I go too far?

Then the dots appear. Oh. My. Gosh. I literally … no. I can’t tell you.

All these secrets are killing me slowly. I tease. You know that, don’t you? What did you just do?

Okay. Okay. I laughed so hard, I spit out what was in my mouth and dribbled smoothie down my shirt. I had to get up and go to my bedroom. I’m grabbing a clean shirt to change into. Give me a minute.

I smile, loving the fact that I made her laugh that hard.

The screen goes dead on her end for a minute. Then she comes back. So, I’m not sure I can take many more guesses at this point. You’re dangerous. I may have to wear a bib, or hire someone to come steam clean if we keep this up.

Alright. My final guess. I smile as I type. You teach indigenous tribes TikTok dances. Your official title is Ambassador of Funk and Groove. You roam the earth spreading the viral trends to unreached people groups. You’re out there on a mission until every person knows how to dance the Toosie Slide and the Whoa.

Oh. My. Gosh …

The cursor just blinks. Then three dots.

You … guessed it!

I knew it! I’m laughing. I hope she is.

I couldn’t breathe through my laughter for a minute. I wish you could hear how hard you had me laughing .

I hesitate, but then I type. Me too .

It seems like I’m simply agreeing, but this urge to hear her laugh feels strong enough to spur me into investigating what it would take to travel to the South Pacific for a quick visit.

Where did you learn about the Toosie Slide and the Whoa ? she asks.

Maybe I’m a traveling TikTok instructor too. It’s destiny that we met.

She doesn’t respond to my destiny comment, but she types: I’m getting T-shirts and merch with that title: Ambassador of Funk and Groove. It might not have been mine before, but I’m claiming it now. And, after all the effort you obviously put into those guesses, and to spare you the insomnia, I’ll have mercy on you.

There’s a long pause as if she’s deliberating. I’m seriously curious why she’s so hesitant to simply tell me what she does for a living. It’s not like I’ll actually be booking a flight to the Caribbean or Bora Bora to meet her once I hear her profession. That would be fruitless. Our situation is strictly online. I’m honestly a little disappointed.

I’m going to tell you, she writes by way of a preface. I …

There’s another pause.

The suspense is excruciating.

Why? Why do I care so much? It’s not as if we’re going to meet—ever.

Finally, she writes, I’m in theater .

Theater? Like doing plays? Like acting on stage? Or directing? Or are you a stage hand? A gaffer? (I don’t know what that is. I just heard the term. Or is that in film? Anyway, are you a gaffer?)

Something like that.

Something like being in plays or directing? Or something like a gaffer—which I just looked up? They run the lighting and electricity on a television or movie set, in case you didn’t know. Great word to keep handy if you have a G and two Fs.

We’ve abandoned the game and are just chatting for now.

My job is something in the wide world of theater. And that’s all I’m giving you for now.

I’ve always wondered if working in theater makes enough to live on. No offense.

I get by.

She lays down I-V and then S to build HIVES off the H in BACCHIC and the E in AQUEOUS.

She’s not typing anything else in the chat. Maybe I offended her. I don’t want her to be embarrassed if she doesn’t make a lot of money doing whatever it is she does in theater. I truly was curious.

Just to be sure, I apologize. Sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up your salary. As long as you’re doing something you love and it pays, that’s all that matters. Right?

Right. Definitely. So, turnabout’s fair play. What do you do, Wordivore?

I stare at the screen. Her answer of something in the wide world of theater was obviously not a full disclosure, so I’ll meet her with the same level of revelation. It’s not that I don’t want her to know I’m a Marine Biologist. I just want to hold my cards close so I have bargaining chips too. If she learns all about me, I’ll have no enticing secrets to barter when I want to learn more about her.

I type: I’m on-call.

Like a doctor?

Something like that . I borrow her phrase and return it to her.

We aren’t being honest, are we? As if she has to ask.

We’re carefully peeling back a layer, I say. At our pace .

Agreed .

I promise not to judge you if you tell me the truth, I assure her.

Maybe one day.

Same here.

How did I let Ben talk me into yet another gathering where I’m the ninth wheel? I already know the answer to that question: Ben. He’s as persuasive as a puppy dragging his own leash to the door and then looking up at you with those pleading eyes. It’s a brand of charm I’ll never acquire, and also, apparently, one I’ll always succumb to.

This time the barbecue is at Ben and Summer’s. I offered to bring a side dish, so I come bearing my mom’s famous potato salad. I made the salad this afternoon after taking a group of marine biology interns out on Catching Wishes . We trawled the waters and, not surprisingly, everyone held the sea cucumber on that tour. I partner with the UC schools to offer hands-on opportunities several times a semester. It’s a nice break from everything else I do with my degree and experience.

“Hey! Hey! Hey!” Ben answers the door with his arms open wide. “Look who’s here! He didn’t shy away, babe!”

Summer steps up behind Ben, extending her hands for the bowl of potato salad.

She looks at her man-child of a husband and says, “I told you he would be here.”

Then she looks at me. “Stevens, I told Ben you’re a man of your word. If you say you’ll be somewhere, you show up.”

“Thank you.”

“Come in. Come in,” Ben says, stepping aside. “Everyone’s in the back yard. Also there’s a friend of Summer’s here.”

I barely process Ben’s comment. And then it occurs to me what he just said.

Noooo. They aren’t trying to fix me up, are they ?

“Don’t worry, man. I’m not on a matchmaking mission. Not exactly. She’s cool and we thought you’d like to meet her. No pressure.”

He follows this promise with a wink at his wife which he probably does with the intention of making me feel assured. It has the opposite effect of the one he's going for. I feel set up. I’m not big into surprises—especially not when I’m out of my element already. I have half a mind to tell Ben I forgot to turn off the stove, or I’m possibly coming down with an ocean-borne bacterial infection. I think I hear my mom calling me.

No. She’d one-hundred percent be behind Ben on this one.

I give Ben and Summer a forced smile that I hope looks more natural than it feels. Then I take a deep breath and walk through their house and out the back door.

Nothing could have prepared me for what I see when my feet hit the back porch. I should have known. An examination of facts would have helped me narrow down an accurate conclusion. Whether I would have been prepared is another question entirely. I wouldn’t. Nothing ever really prepares me for seeing her.

Alana Graves is standing next to one of the two outdoor tables in Ben and Summer’s back yard. She’s leaning a hip casually against the tabletop, holding a drink and chatting with Kalaine. Her blond curls perfectly frame her face and fall past her shoulders. Her bright eyes sparkle. She’s a magnet—the sun, drawing everything into her orbit, but keeping us at just the right distance, because who could handle the overwhelming reality of getting too close to her?

On Joel’s boat, I learned to tone down my responses. She started to feel like someone I knew, just another woman—a gorgeous, captivating woman with not only a beautiful face and body, but a sharp wit and clever mind. I saw her vulnerability and it made her human. Then I ran into her at the cove—my cove. And I had an unexpected moment of complete calm, the after-effect of being underwater in my favorite environment. I mustered confidence and even landed a joke.

But this? Her here, in the midst of my friends? She’s shining brighter than the crepuscular rays from the sol at the center of our universe. No wonder they call celebrities stars.

“Stevens!” Bodhi shouts over to me.

I’m glued to the back porch, unable to move.

“Are you just going to stand there gaping, or are you going to help us grill over here?”

“Uh. Yeah. Grilling. I’ll grill.”

Bodhi chuckles, obviously aware of the source of my bumbling words.

I’m grateful to have a grill and the guys clustered around it. Cooking meat will give me something to do besides worrying about how to act around Alana. We aren’t supposed to know one another. I’m pretty sure I’m carrying that part off without even trying. I haven’t appeared at all familiar or comfortable with her yet.

I think I’m in the clear, but Ben exits his house right behind me.

“Stevens! I want you to meet someone.” His voice booms across the back yard.

Everyone present turns to stare at us. Probably people around the neighborhood would stare if they could see over the fence surrounding the yard.

Subtlety is not in Ben’s wheelhouse.

“Kalaine, I hate to interrupt,” Ben says as he ushers me close to the two women and barges into their conversation with all the finesse of a timeshare salesman.

“You do not hate to interrupt,” Kalaine says with an adoring smile at Ben.

“Took the words right out of my mouth,” I mumble.

Alana’s eyes hook on mine and I can tell she’s waiting to see what I’ll say and how I’ll act. I can’t look away. Whether I had met her before or not, I would not be able to turn away from her at this proximity. Solar magnetism. A pull twice as strong as the earth’s .

Alana giggles lightly at my comment. I’m so focused on her, the rest of the crowd and even the details of the back yard fade into a blur like peripheral objects in portrait mode.

“Alana, this is my friend, Stevens. He’s a nerd, but a cool one. He does marine biology stuff.” Ben claps me on the back. “Stevens, this is Alana Graves, as you know.”

I send up a private thanks that Ben didn’t blurt out what a big fan I am.

“He’s such a massive fan of yours.”

Premature gratitude.

I’m pretty certain I’m blushing.

“So, you’re a fan, huh?” Alana says. Her eyes are playful.

“I admit it. I am.”

“What’s your favorite movie of mine?” she asks.

“You’re going to make me pick?”

She beams.

“I loved you in Twisted … Your performance. I loved your performance.”

“We’re all eagerly awaiting the release of Blasted ,” Kalaine says.

Alana’s still holding my gaze when she thanks Kalaine and then asks me, “ Twisted , huh?”

“You play a great spy. And those martial arts moves? Wow. Impressive.”

I question myself, but apparently all the chill I ever had has exited the premises. “Is that actually you? Or do you have a stunt double?”

Alana smiles widely, dips her head, and then she looks me in the eye again. “That’s all me. I do have a stunt double. She fills in for certain scenes, but I do all my own stunts.”

“Just like the T-shirt!” Ben says with a laugh at his own joke.

“Yeah. Maybe I should get one of those,” Alana says to him.

“You totally should!”

Summer calls Ben’s name to help carry bowls out from the kitchen .

Bodhi walks over and asks, “Hey, guys. Mind if I borrow my wife for a minute? I’m thinking she needs to put her feet up.”

Kalaine rolls her eyes at Bodhi, but she follows him across the yard to a chair he’s pulled out for her with a footrest in front of it.

Alana and I are left alone together.

“Thank you,” she nearly whispers to me.

“For loving you in Twisted ?” I manage to tease her comfortably now that we’re alone.

She smiles softly at me. “For acting like we never met.”

If only she knew most of my reaction wasn’t acting.

“You’re welcome. You know you can trust me.”

She studies me for a beat and then she says something I’ll never forget for the rest of my life. “Yeah. I can.”