32. Stevens

THIRTY-TWO

Stevens

You're not perfect, sport.

And let me save you the suspense.

This girl you've met, she isn't perfect either.

But the question is whether or not

you're perfect for each other.

~ Good Will Hunting

“ S tevens, hey. What brings you here so early in the morning?”

“I’m up in my head about Alana. I need a sounding board.”

“Come on in. Coffee?”

“Better not. I’m amped up as it is.”

“Surf?”

“Maybe, yeah. After we talk.”

“Have a seat.” Kai waves at his couches.

I sit on the edge of one, resting my elbows on my knees and cupping my head in my hands.

“Did something happen, or are you just freaking out that she’s an internationally famous movie star? ”

“Thanks for that reminder. No. Yeah. Something happened.”

I fill Kai in on the whole parrothead debacle. He laughs at times. Which helps, in a weird way. We’re both laughing by the time I get to the part where I struck an impromptu yoga pose.

“Man. That is not what I expected when you said you were up in your head.”

“I know, right?”

“So where’s your head at now, besides feeling appropriately mortified?”

“I guess after all was said and done, it wasn’t just the fish suit that set me apart.”

“Though, it did set you apart.”

“For sure.”

We both chuckle.

“I mean, usually I see her in this setting. Here on Marbella. In her house. The beach. Out on the water together. She’s more … normal … here. But last night I saw her in that element. And she was at home—she just fit.”

Kai nods. Then he sits back, obviously considering me and my situation.

After a few moments of Kai’s silence, I say, “My parents used to have this St. Bernard. The dog was lethargic and sweet. But, honestly he spent a good portion of the day lying around panting, and on hot days it was worse. We took him with us to my uncle’s cabin in Mammoth one winter. He came to life. It was such a lesson in creatures and their habitats.”

“That would be the lesson you took out of that.”

“Is there another lesson?” I ask.

“Maybe adaptability. That dog had a good life. Sure, he was more lethargic at times here, but he was loved by a family. He could make a life in both climates. He adapted.”

“Well, seeing Alana in that ballroom in that dress …” I shake my head, remembering what she looked like. “That’s her habitat.”

“Are you sure? Because I’ve seen her here—and the other night, on the beach with you? She looked so at home. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her smile like that.”

“Rex,” I mutter.

“What’s that?”

“Rex. He’s her species. I’m not. She’s out of my league. I honestly never saw so acutely the reality of how much they are made for one another until last night. And now I can’t shake it. Up until now she was just Alana, my SaturdayIslandGirl, the one who also acts for a living. But last night—last night she was Alana Graves and I was a guy who has feelings for her, standing there in a fish suit doing yoga.”

Kai studies me. “You think Alana’s out of your league? Does that make you unique? As if Mila’s not out of mine?”

He stares at me.

“You’re an ex pro surfer,” I remind Kai.

His answer is swift. “She’s a better person than me.”

“That’s not the same. And, as awesome as Mila is, I don’t think she’s a better person than you. You two are well matched.”

“What about Ben and Summer?” Kai suggests.

“Ben with anyone.” I laugh and Kai does too.

In reality, Ben is a great guy. I’d tell that joke in front of him and he’d jab back in good fun.

“Summer was just starting out as an actress when they first dated,” I point out. “Alana … she's Alana Graves. It’s not the same. If we had met when we were younger, before she skyrocketed, maybe. But she’s always been destined for this life of superstardom. Her parents are in the business. They predetermined and groomed her for it.”

“She’s not Alana Graves when she’s with you,” Kai points out. “She’s just Alana. And I have a hunch there aren’t a lot of places in the world where that woman gets to be just Alana. You’ve given her something she needed.”

“I think I’m falling for her.”

I haven’t even said those words to myself yet, but they tumble out without a filter. And it’s the truth. I’m falling for Alana, not Alana Graves.

“I want the smallest things with her. Just to take out her trash or cook her a meal. To watch her face light up when she laughs. I want to walk holding her hand. To see the way the sunlight plays across her hair when she’s sitting on the porch looking out at the ocean. I want to see her every chance I get—not just occasionally. My days are measured by the number between the last time I saw her and the next time I’ll be able to. Cheesy, huh?”

“I know that feeling. Man, do I.”

“And? What do I do?”

“You hang on for the wild ride. When it boils down to it, love is never easy. But it’s worth it. And really, we have no choice. Once we fall, we’re gone. It’s too late to course correct. We just make the best of our circumstances and enjoy the sweetness of having found a woman who wrecks us daily with simply a smile or a toss of her hair. Not everyone gets to have that kind of love. So, if you find it, you hang on with both hands. Don’t let the fact that she’s a superstar factor in. You’re just like the rest of us—two people who fell in love. It happens every day. Somewhere, right now, someone is falling in love, or they're about to. But when it’s your day? It feels like your whole life led up to this. Nothing else matters but her and making a life with her.”

I nod. And, this . This is why I came knocking right after the sun came up. My head is right again by the time I walk back to my house. I’m falling for Alana. Her career is secondary. What we feel for one another takes precedence over everything. So her mom met me in a fish costume? That was yesterday. It’s a new day.

Kai and I meet up with Ben and Bodhi for some surfing. I take two tours out later in the day. By nighttime, I haven’t heard from Alana, but I’m sure she’s occupied with photo shoots or interviews, or more events like the one last night. None of that matters. She has a life and a job. I have to keep that in perspective. Acting is her job. I can give her a life—if she’ll let me.

And, I don’t care what Kai says, she’s way out of my league. She would be even if she weren’t a movie star. I’m going to treat my relationship with her like Charlie and his golden ticket. I’m going into Wonka’s factory with a grateful smile on my face, knowing all along I don’t belong there, so I’ll never take this opportunity for granted.

I’m sitting down to dinner when my cell pings with a text notification.

I smile when I see her name.

Alana : Hey. It’s been a hectic twenty-four hours. I’m just now able to text. My mom’s still here, but she’s about to leave.

Stevens : Text me when you’re alone. We need to talk.

Alana : That’s a horrible line, merman. If you were writing a script, that would be the line before the leading man tells the leading lady he’s moving on without her.

Stevens : That’s not what it means here. I’m not in the catch and release program after all.

Alana : Good, because I’m not about to let you off the hook.

Stevens : Good one. Just text me when you can freely chat. Or better yet, call.

Alana : I will.

About fifteen minutes later, my cell rings.

“Hey.”

Alana’s voice is soft. I can hear the exhaustion beneath her words. And instantly, I’m back into a place where nothing matters but what we share. The world around us can judge, shine a spotlight, or attempt to drive us apart. She might be better suited for a match with Rex on paper, but in reality, I know she’s mine.

“Hey. You sound wiped out. Would it be better to talk in the morning?”

“No. I miss you. Waiting until the morning would only mean I wouldn’t sleep well. You didn’t stop running out the ballroom door when I called after you last night. I couldn’t chase you down with so many eyes on me. I couldn’t even raise my voice. But I wanted you to stop so we could talk. Are you okay?”

“I am, actually. I had to process some things. But I’m good.”

“I’m so glad. I worried about you the whole day. I kept trying to find a minute to text you, but I literally had no opportunity. My mother was even at the door of the restroom whenever I went in there. I finally texted you from my balcony and then I had to stash my phone so she wouldn’t try to see what I had texted.”

“Sorry about how she met me. I didn’t know you’d be at that event.”

“My mother sprung it on me as a ‘fundraiser.’ I had no idea the cause or I would have mentioned it.”

“It gave you more exposure with Rex.” I grimace after the sentence leaves my mouth.

“Exactly. My mother has her methods.”

I explain the costume mix-up and she and I have a good laugh about it. We talk a little longer. I listen as she tells me about an interview she did, and an appearance with members of the cast. I’d listen to her tell me about anything. It’s just good to hear her voice—to be the person she calls at the end of a long day.

She yawns and then she asks, “Can you play for a while?”

“I’ll stay up past my bedtime to play with you.”

“Mmm. Good answer,” she practically coos into the phone. “You’re too far away.”

“Agreed. But I’ll see you when you’re back.”

“Tomorrow. I’ll be back tomorrow.”

“Then I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Don’t hang up, okay?” She sounds so sweet, her voice low and drowsy.

“Okay.”

I pull up the game. She already initiated a match.

And her first word stares me in the face: APOLOGY.

“No need,” I say. “I understand.”

“It was unexpected, but I should have introduced you. ”

“No. I’m pretty sure you shouldn’t have. I don’t want to be in a fish costume when I first meet your parents.”

I look at my tiles. And, unbelievably, I’m able to play ACCEPT. “I don’t have an E or a D, but your apology is accepted.”

“I’m so sorry, Stevens. I wanted to protect you from all this. My mother … well, I’d rather you never meet her, to be honest. Fish costume or not, she’s going to give you that same appraising look that broadcasts her disapproval. She’s dead set on certain things which are honestly not her business.”

“You can’t protect me, Alana. Your mother is part of the whole package. The press, exposure to the public eye … it’s all part of the whole package.”

Her voice is tentative when she asks, “Are you ready to request a return label and your full refund?”

“Not even close. I’m here. Now. Let’s play.”

We play nearly a full game while we talk about our days and eventually switch to a revealing game of would-you-rather where I learn a lot of idiosyncrasies and fun details about Alana. She keeps yawning, so I finally insist we set all games aside for the night.

“Don’t hang up on me, okay?” she asks.

“You need sleep.”

“I’m going to sleep. I just want you here with me. Leave your phone on, would you?”

“Okay.”

She goes silent, and in a matter of minutes, I can faintly hear the sound of her breathing through the phone … until I drift off too, connected to her across the miles and everything else that separates us.