“Camp?”
“Oh yeah. My brother and sister attended, so it must be great, right? I spent the entire week with a stomachache, without a swim buddy, crying myself to sleep.”
“I take it you just went the one time.”
“No. She made me go again. And again. Until finally they refused to take me. I think the camp director must have called my mother, told her what a fiasco I was.”
“I doubt—”
“Trust me on this.”
He wore a look of concern that suddenly stilled the whirring in her stomach and cooled the hot flush against her skin. Something about him . . . maybe it was just the freedom of talking to a stranger on a plane . . . but he had a calm, decidedly easy aura about him that allowed her to breathe.
Thank You, Lord, for not putting me next to a jerk.
“The problem is, I’m not sure if my mom is right or if it’s just my inability to say no, to stand up for myself. See, I’ve lived at home my entire life, and everyone seems to think there is more for me, but . . . I don’t know. Maybe.” She looked at him. “Have you ever felt like there was something more for you, but it seemed just out of reach? Like, you know you want it, but somehow, you’re also scared to reach for it? What if, after all this effort, it turns out to be a joke? Or worse—horrible? What if you take the big leap and—?”
“And you fall. And get hurt.” His voice emerged small, even tremulous, as if yes, he understood.
“Then you’re back where you started, only worse because now you know it’s not worth it.”
He had stopped smiling, now considered her. “Yeah,” he said softly.
“That’s what this trip is. Reaching out against my better judgment. And I have this awful feeling I’m going to fall, hard. I’m going to regret getting on this plane.”
“Please don’t say that so loud.”
“Sorry.”
He stared at her a long moment, those magical brown eyes holding hers, and she had the uncanny feeling that he might do something crazy like take her hand. But he didn’t, just finally took a long breath and smiled. It had the effect of yanking her out of the abyss she seemed to be hurtling toward, his voice kind and even enthusiastic.
“Listen, Hawaii is a blast. There’s so much to do. Surfing and snorkeling, parasailing and cliff-diving and turtle watching and beaches . . . not to mention Pearl Harbor and the history of Hawaii. You’re going to have a great time. If you didn’t already have a travel companion, I’d show you around myself.”
“Really?” Oh, she sounded eager. Too eager. It was on the tip of her tongue to say, Travel companion? What travel companion?
“Yeah. I’d take you to this restaurant overlooking Waikiki Beach, and we’d watch the bodysurfers as we ate fish tacos. We’d climb Diamond Head and see the crater, take pictures of the view of Honolulu. Watch the surf break. We’d drive up to the shrimp shacks on the North Shore of the island and then go watch the real surfers on the big waves. On the way home, we’d see if the turtles were still basking on the beaches, maybe take in a sunset.”
She rested a hand on her stomach, but the roil inside had started to subside.
“I’d take you to Pearl Harbor—and to the monument, tour the submarine parked there—and then we’d hit a fresh sushi place for some tuna rolls.”
“I’ve never had sushi.”
“Oh, you’ll love it. It’s . . . Well, you have to promise me to have sushi at least once during your stay.”
“I . . . Yeah. Maybe.”
“That’s not a promise.”
She tried to give him a smile. “You’re very sweet, 9A. But I don’t know how much free time I’ll have.”
He sighed. “I get it. This guy might want you all to himself.”
She laughed. “No . . . it’s not that kind of . . . meeting. He’s just doing my sister a favor. And I’m absolutely mortified. It’s like they recruited him to babysit me. I don’t need babysitting. In fact, I’m not actually there for a vacation. It’s more of a . . . Well, my sister set it up. She wants me to cater her wedding, and she thinks that somehow I’ll be inspired.”
His smile had vanished, and he seemed to go all stiff, a frown creasing his face. “Um . . . why are you going to Hawaii?”
“I’m attending a culinary school. Three weeks of learning to cook. It was a gift from my family.”
Her eyes fell on the magazine in his grip. On the cover, a picture of succulent pasta with summer squash and mushrooms. Then her gaze moved to the bag at his feet, bearing the familiar blue logo of the St. Paul Blue Ox.