“Matt, I’m so sorry to interrupt,” I mewed pitifully and then slumped onto the arm of the sofa next to him. I pressed my hand against my forehead and squeezed my eyes closed, then barely audibly I whispered, “I don’t feel good.”
Kelsey looked nonplussed by my arrival and her minions stirred, confused by my interruption. Deciding they still weren’t getting it, I pressed my hands to my stomach and hunched over with a whimper. “I feel sick,” I croaked.
The girl directly in front of me scampered back, presumably to avoid any unpleasantness that my guts might have in store for her. Matt leaped to his feet and bent over me. “Is this for real?” he whispered in my ear.
I moaned softly and shook my head no. To our rapt audience, it appeared that my misery was increasing.
“Let’s get you inside,” he said at normal volume. He helped me up and then kept an arm around my shoulders, gently urging me toward the door leading inside. As we passed Kelsey, I caught her shooting a squinty-eyed dagger glare my way. I emitted another theatrical groan, causing her mouth to narrow in irritation.
Matt squeezed my shoulder and murmured, “Watch it. You’re going to sprain your drama if you’re not careful.”
I nodded, hunched over a little farther, and shuffled alongside him into the house. As soon as the door shut behind me, I straightened up and grinned. “You’re welcome,” I said.
“No kidding,” he said. “That’s good for at least two more surf lessons.”
“Whew. I guess I’m off the hook for a date, then,” I joked.
“You are if you want to be,” he answered.
I held his gaze for several seconds and then confessed, “I don’t.”
“Good.”
“So, what do I do with you now?” I asked. “Do I throw you back to the . . . uh . . .” I faltered, not willing to characterize the group of girls outside as sharks out loud.
Matt smiled like he knew what I wasn’t saying. “I don’t deserve that. I rescued you, remember?”
“Oh, right. From my imaginary illness.”
“What pretend sickness did you catch, anyway?”
I rubbed my stomach. “I’m going with spontaneous food poisoning from the carne asada.”
He winced. “Derek will be crushed. It’s his specialty.”
“I told him I was sorry in advance.”
He smiled in admiration. “Man, you really think on your feet.”
“No, I don’t. Thinking and my feet don’t work together at all. That’s why you have to help with the surf thing.”
“Right. Lucky me.”
And before I could wonder if he was being serious or sarcastic, he scuffed his flip-flop lightly against mine and said, “Thanks, Ashley’s feet.”
The door squeaked open again and Kelsey’s head appeared around the side, approximately level with the door knob. Well, maybe not that low, but she was short. Just saying.
She eyed me, obviously suspicious, and asked, “Are you feeling any better?”
Matt threw his arm around my shoulder again and I leaned against him like he was the only thing holding me up.
“I feel okay,” I mumbled. Matt squeezed my shoulder. “I mean, except for being really, really sick,” and then I groaned again. This time I got a pat.
“Oh, that’s too bad.” And I knew Kelsey only meant that it was too bad because my “spell” was keeping me glued to Matt’s side.
“Yeah, I think I’m going to make sure Ashley gets home okay.”
Her face fell. “You’re leaving?”
“Yeah. I feel responsible for her getting sick at my house. Stay and enjoy the party, though,” Matt offered.
“Sure,” Kelsey said, but it was kind of pouty.
Since I didn’t know how far Matt planned to take this, I kept my mouth shut and followed his lead. He slid his hand from my shoulder, down my arm, and slipped it around my hand. With a soft tug, he led me back toward the front of the house, skillfully navigating the clusters of people hanging out in islands of conversation all the way to the front door. Even traveling the relatively short distance took quite a while as friends stopped Matt to greet him or offer him the casual surfer “What’s goin’ on?” It gave me time to observe his house. It was a typical bachelor pad with worn furniture and scuffed wooden floors. Very few personal touches showed besides the snapshots stuck to the fridge and some surf posters on the wall. The only exception was a large framed photograph in the living room of him and another guy posing with huge smiles in front of a store under a sign reading the board shack.
Holding my hand seemed to ward off other girls, and he didn’t let go, so when we made it through the front yard and onto the street, I was growing used to his warm grip. I wondered as we drew even with my Jeep if he would let it go and kind of hoped not.
Instead, he held his other hand out for my keys and said, “I better drive since you’re sick.”
“What? Are you ditching out on your own party?”
He shrugged. “Our barbecues are an excuse for people to hang out. They wouldn’t notice if Derek and I left unless we took the food with us.”
“All right, I’m in. Where are we going?”
He smiled and said nothing.
“You’re not going to tell me,” I guessed.
“Nope. But don’t take it personally. It’s just because I don’t know where we’re going yet, either.”
“That’s one of my favorite places.”
“Yeah, mine too, on a Sunday.” He looked up at the night sky. “What do you think? Is a coast drive still worth it even without the daylight?”
I dug my keys out of my pocket and plopped them in his hand. “Definitely.”