Smitten

Fish flashes me a smile I’d caption, Silly girl. And warmth pools in my chest. He says, “Alessandra, you’re literally the only reason I came to this party tonight. If not for you, I’d have gone home after the pool party and crashed there for the rest of the night.”

“Oh.” I’m too excited to say anything else.

Fish smiles shyly, his cheeks blooming. “So, are you down to get a drink?”

“I’d love it.”

We reach one of the bars in a far corner and take our place at the back of the line, just as a group of musicians starts playing on a large nearby stage.

“Sorry it took me so long to get here tonight,” Fish shouts above the music. “I would have been here an hour ago, but I was at Aloha and Zander’s having drinks, and Aloha demanded we play Cards Against Humanity before heading over.”

“I love that game.”

“I would have preferred to be here with you. Have you been here long?”

My heart is bursting. Fish isn’t being subtle about his attraction to me tonight, is he? And I couldn’t be more elated about it. I say, “Georgina and I were the first to ‘arrive’ tonight, so to speak. But only because we’re staying the night in one of Reed’s guest rooms upstairs.”

“Oh, that’s convenient.”

“Yeah, with me flying back to Boston on Monday morning, we wanted to squeeze in some one-on-one time before then.”

In a heartbeat, Fish’s smile fades. In fact, he looks crestfallen. “I didn’t realize you’re heading back to Boston so soon,” he says. “I assumed, with school out for the summer, you were going to be staying in LA until the fall.”

My heart squeezes at the look of disappointment on his face. In this moment, I can perfectly imagine what he must have looked like at age five, the day his mother first dropped him off at kindergarten. I shake my head. “I only came home for a week—for Georgina’s graduation from UCLA. I’m staying the summer in Boston to work and take a class. I didn’t want to lose my apartment near campus for this coming school year, and they wouldn’t let my roommate and me sublet.”

“Oh.”

I suddenly feel the need to babble. “The good news is I’m taking a really cool summer class that’s impossible to get during the normal school year. And my boss at the café is letting me work twice as many shifts as usual, so I can put away lots of money for tuition and expenses.”

“What’s the class you’re taking?”

I tell him about it—and how excited I am to get to take it from one of the most popular professors in the school. Someone who’s impossible to get during fall and spring semesters. And Fish agrees the class sounds amazing. Something he’d love to take himself, even now.

“It’s the best class I’ve ever taken,” I say. “And that’s saying a lot. Between taking the class and working extra shifts, I should be pretty busy this summer.”

“What’s your work?”

“I wait tables at a popular vegan café near campus.”

“Are you a vegan?”

“No. Pescatarian. The only ‘meat’ I’ll eat is fish.”

Fish smiles, like I’ve made a dirty joke—and I suddenly realize . . . I did. Albeit unwittingly.

“I didn’t mean that like it sounded,” I quickly add. “I meant I literally only eat fish. Lower case ‘f’. As in actual food. I wasn’t trying to say something titillating or naughty . . .” Oh, God. I clamp my mouth shut. Gah. I’m terrible at this.

But Fish looks nothing but amused. “I know you weren’t trying to be ‘titillating.’” He chuckles. “That’s what made your comment so damned cute—because you looked so sweet and clueless when you said it.”

Even as I’m blushing, I can’t help returning his broad smile. Who knew being called clueless could feel like such a supreme compliment?

We reach the front of the bar line and place our orders. A vodka soda for Fish and a water for me.

“You don’t drink?” he asks. “Not that it matters.”

“Sometimes, I do. I’ll drink a White Claw at a party. A beer, now and again. But I’m a total lightweight. So, I don’t want to risk me saying who knows what at a party filled with some of my favorite musicians. This is a work thing for Georgina, and I’m her plus-one, so—”

“Fish!”

It’s another friend of his. Another round of hugs ensues. Another round of introductions, during which Fish, yet again, introduces me to his friend as his date.

But, quickly—far more quickly than I would have expected—Fish says to his friend, “I’ll see you later, dude. Have fun tonight.” Which unmistakably signals his buddy to take a hike.

Fish smiles at me. “Hey, how about a game of ping-pong out back? It’s too crowded in here for my taste.”

“Awesome. Fair warning, though. I suck at ping-pong.”

“So do I. We’ll fight to the death to see who sucks slightly less.” With that, he puts out his hand and I take it. Like it’s a totally normal thing to do. Like I’m his date, as he’s now declared twice. Like he’s just some cute guy at a party near campus, and we’re not at the home of Reed Rivers, surrounded by literal rock stars. And off we go, hand in hand, toward some large French doors leading onto the patio.