Sushi and Sun Salutations Read online

  Spencer’s sigh sounded more frustrated than anything else.

  “Please don’t do this, Tess. It’s hard enough to figure out what I’m doing without having to worry about whether or not you approve,” Spencer whined.

  The tone was teasing, but the words struck true.

  Tessa’s eyes burned with sudden emotion. The desire to save her friend from another bad decision warred with her conscience. Not to mention she could really use a friend for herself.

  But there was no way she’d say that.

  Nope.

  She wasn’t going to guilt anyone into ever showing up for her.

  Guilt led to resentment.

  And resentment led to…

  Nothing.

  “Okay,” she forced out around the tightness in her throat and chest. “You’re right. It’s not my call.”

  “Tomorrow is your day off so we’re going to the beach,” Spencer promised. “And I’ll do all the laundry for a week.”

  “All right, babe.” Tessa gathered her gear and got out of the car. “Don’t die.”

  “I won’t. Love you.”

  “Love you, too.”

  Tessa slipped her phone into the opening of her purse before throwing it over her shoulder.

  Was it a bad idea to have margaritas for dinner?

  ***

  KIP

  “You look far away.”

  Kip broke his gaze away from the crashing waves in the distance and came back to the moment. He smiled softly at Clarke, his boss and one of his oldest friends.

  “Maybe that’s because I am far away,” he replied casually.

  Always casual. Always easy.

  Clarke cast a side-eye at him as she moved around the counter. “Anything you wanna talk about?”

  “Aren’t you supposed to be packing?” he asked.

  Clarke rolled her eyes and opened the file cabinet beneath the counter. She tugged out a folder and closed the drawer. “I have a few things to wrap up before I leave.”

  She leaned her hip against the counter and measured him with sisterly eyes.

  Kip’s lips curved into another smile and he shook his head.

  This girl.

  As the younger sister of his best friend Paul, Clarke had always been around. And when Paul had gone off to tour with a rock band, Clarke filled his role in the friend group. And when Paul died of a drug overdose, she had become the heart of that group.

  Any one of them would die for her.

  Even now, after their “adult” lives had begun, and Clarke was married to a rock star and was running the West Coast operations of the fastest growing surf company in the world, the group stuck together.

  This little seaside town felt like the smallest world sometimes.

  Maybe that’s why Kip kept his private life, very private.

  Not because he didn’t trust his friends or anything like that. He just didn’t like the worry and concern brought on by those things. He’d spent years in therapy working on his own anxiety issues. No way was he looking at farming that duty out to his loved ones.

  “You think you can handle these yahoos while I’m gone?” Clarke asked, indicating the interior of the shop with a head tilt.

  “These yahoos” meaning the guys who worked there now. Beach bums with trust funds.

  They’d “grown up” to work for their fearless leader Shane Brookings who’d started his own business a few years ago. Clarke was their direct supervisor, but it had to feel like she was a glorified babysitter most days.

  Kip, Steve, Bo, and Adam each took their turns running and maintaining the shop, along with a handful of younger part-timers. Brady was their most recent acquisition. Except he was off traveling the globe with a girl who was no doubt going to bring him to his knees before it was over.

  Of all the guys, Kip was probably the most responsible.

  Which meant when Clarke was out of town for work or on tour with her rock star husband, Kip was in charge.

  “Yes, I can handle the yahoos,” he reassured her.

  “New product shipment comes in on Thursday,” she reminded.

  “I know.” He nodded to the whiteboard on the wall to his left where it was written.

  She frowned softly. “Are you sure everything’s okay?”

  Ironically, everything was great. Better than it had been in a decade.

  Why Clarke was picking up on any kind of change in him was a little disconcerting.

  Except he knew what it was.

  Or rather who.

  Tessa.

  He hadn’t seen her in years.

  One hand went to the beanie on his head and he tugged it down a little further. Clarke’s eyes flicked up to the movement and her eyebrows quirked.

  Kip took a deep breath and cleared his throat.

  “Everything is fine,” he said soothingly. But he knew he’d have to give her something more. “I just ran into someone today.”

  Or she’d collapsed on him in yoga class, same difference.

  Clarke lifted her chin slightly.

  Kip’s gaze drifted back to the tall windows facing the ocean and his smile turned lazy.

  He had no way of knowing if she was the person he suspected she was—if she was the person he was hoping she was. But he had a feeling he’d find out soon enough.

  And for the first time in a long time, he dared to think about the future.

  The sea is nothing,

  And I am nothing,

  But all my arms are wrapped around you.

  CHAPTER 2

  your hands make words

  my heart longs to touch.

  I want your breath, your soul

  -to spill

  and I’ll clean it up

  with my own.

  -Kip, age 17

  TESSA

  When life wasn’t awesome, you had to make it awesome.

  Still, all the naked dancing and Halsey in the world couldn’t erase the memory of earlier that day.

  Tessa stared at the blender on the counter, deep in thought. It hadn’t been all bad, she acquiesced, thinking about Kip’s floppy hair and green eyes. Just picturing him made her heart stutter. And that hadn’t happened in a very long time.

  Which was why she should be pushing him far from her mind. Cute boys had a habit of crushing her heart, or being jackasses. Usually both.

  “Grr,” she muttered, as the memory of her fall-and-flail took center stage again.

  Good thing she’d made sure to introduce him to the full catastrophe right away. That way he wouldn’t be able to accuse her of hiding her true colors later on.

  Not that there would be a later on, she reminded herself as she gathered all her ingredients on the counter top, and then danced back to the bedroom. She chose a white tank top, cotton panties, and yoga pants that had never and would never be used for yoga.

  They were used for watching The Bachelor and drinking alcohol.

  Like God intended.

  She had only managed to get her panties on and was tugging the tank over her head when a thought crashed into her tired mind.

  Maybe Kip had a Facebook page.

  She dashed into the living room and flung her yoga pants on the nearby couch as she slid into the folding chair in front of the desk. She impatiently scrambled the mouse on the desk trying to wake up the computer. The screen snapped on and the desktop loaded sluggishly.

  Tessa growled, tipping her head back in annoyance. She shoved away from the desk and went back to the kitchen. She shouldn’t be looking Kip up on Facebook. She wasn’t sixteen anymore.

  She tossed the ice and strawberries in the blender and added the tequila. Triple Sec came next and she felt that familiar jolt of satisfaction that came with not having to measure. It was a gift. She had always been able to eye the measurements of anything and everything with scary accuracy. It made the people watching her uncomfortable, but it didn’t stop her.

  The blender whirred, mixing her ingredients and making her mouth water. When she
shut it down the song on her stereo had switched to Niall Horan and Maren Morris’ duet “Seeing Blind.” Tessa belted out the chorus, feeling the words go soul deep.

  Someday.

  She had no doubt.

  One of these days she was going to meet her match. The one and only who would take her to the stars while also being her foundation.

  It was just taking a heck of a long time.

  She set the pitcher on the edge of the desk and tugged her pants off the couch. No, she wasn’t going to pour it into a glass like a civilized person. She had fallen on a cute boy that day. It called for drinking directly out of the pitcher.

  A melodic jingle erupted from the computer speakers and she leaned over to see what it was.

  Oh!

  Lo was calling her via Skype.

  “Finally!” she exhaled while diving for the mouse to answer before she missed the call.

  She hadn’t spoken to Lo in weeks and it was getting hella lonely around here.

  The third part of their trifecta of badass besties, Lo was the bravest of them all. Even now, she was off galivanting around the world with Brady Samson. Probably kissing him under stars and squeezing his manly biceps.

  “Aww, am I missing margarita night?” Lo’s voice came from the speakers.

  Tessa tugged her pants up, but in her haste, the waist band got stuck under her butt cheeks. She was just off screen and knew Lo must be wondering where she was.

  “Hold on!” she called to her friend hoping she wouldn’t hang up. “I’m not wearing pants,” she explained. “Gimme…two seconds.”

  The words had no more left her mouth than the legging gave way and ripped up her backside sending her hands that had been gripping the waistband at her sides flying upwards. She lost her balance (theme of the day, right?) and fell to the floor, her legs knocking over an end table with books and candles on it.

  “Tessa?” Lo asked, concern evident in the one word question.

  “I’m okay!” she yelled, her hands reaching for the desk to leverage herself up. She raised her head for the viewfinder as she finally collapsed into the chair. “I’m okay. Well, I will be okay. As soon as I finish this puppy.” She wrapped both hands around the margarita and pulled it towards her. The table, books, candles, and her ruined pants would have to be dealt with later. Much later. Preferably after this pitcher of pure heaven made its way through her system. “Come to mama,” she murmured more to herself than Lo.

  She took a long slurp of the straw and pretended like Lo’s laughter made no difference to her.

  But it secretly did.

  Not that Tessa thought of herself as a comedian, but being able to make her loved ones laugh was a talent she never took for granted. Maybe it was because she’d lived in a house where the most common phrases were, “Be serious.” And “Stop trying to be funny.”

  It was her own secret rebellion.

  She took a settling breath and smiled at her friend. “Hello, gorgeous.”

  Lo sighed, still smiling. “I missed you.”

  “Not as much as I miss you.” Tessa propped an elbow on the desk and stirred the margarita with the straw. “Did you know about hot yoga?”

  “What?” Lo’s eyebrows knitted together in confusion. “That it exists? Yeah, it’s not exactly new.”

  “No.” Tessa rolled her eyes and took another long drink. Just thinking about it again made her relive it a little and her thirst for tequila increased.

  “I mean, did you know how awful it is? I don’t know why there’s such a debate about our military’s torture tactics when they could just employ hot yoga. Ten minutes in and I was ready to turn over my social security number and bank account information.” She bobbed her head to the side considering what she’d just said. “Of course, maybe that’s the point. All those people sign up and pay to be that miserable. I can get that for free by having dinner with my parents, you know.” She nodded. “Plus, free dinner.”

  Lo’s uncontrolled laughter made Tessa feel less guilty about her mini-rant.

  Laughing was life’s purest form of joy. It was the great equalizer.

  Her mom always accused her of not taking things seriously and using humor as a deflection for responsibility.

  But that wasn’t it.

  It was never like that for her.

  Humor, laughter, joy—those were the things that made life beautiful.

  “I love you,” Lo said, wiping tears from her eyes.

  “And I love you back,” Tessa replied with a happy grin.

  “Where’s Spencer?” Lo asked, peering into the dark living room behind Tessa.

  Tessa filled her cheeks with air and scrunched up her nose. “You don’t want to know.”

  “No!” Lo’s face paled and she placed her palm over her chest. “Not Garrett?” Tessa pursed her lips and shook her head in tiny, jerky motions. “Don’t even get me started.”

  “Garrett is…” Lo trailed off as she sought for an adequate adjective.

  Tessa had a list she would be willing to lend her, but settled for the easiest. “Garrett is the worst,” she declared. “And I hate him.” She slammed her palm on the desk making the monitor shake. “Hate him!”

  So, the tequila was working.

  “Tessa,” Lo replied carefully. “You don’t usually get so worked up.”

  “I’m just tired and sweaty.” Yep, still sweaty, despite the shower. “I haven’t seen Spencer in a week. A week! She keeps saying she’s not back with that scrotum face, but she’s lying! To me! And did I tell you about the hot yoga?”

  Yep, the tequila had done its job at relaxing her. More specifically her tongue and thoughts.

  “Yikes,” Lo muttered. “I’m sorry I’ve been incommunicado.”

  “Oh, it’s not your fault,” Tessa protested. No way was she going to let Lo feel any responsibility for this. She was finally off chasing her heart and doing exactly what she’d been created to do. The last thing Tessa wanted was for Lo to feel guilty for the actions of others.

  People owned their choices.

  Whether they wanted to or not.

  “Please don’t worry about us or me or her. We’re big girls. This will all get resolved.” Tessa’s eyes drifted to the wall behind the computer as she made that promise to herself. “I’m going to make certain of it.”

  “That’s not terrifying,” Lo laughed nervously.

  Time to change the subject.

  “What’s up with you?” Tessa asked.

  Last she’d heard Lo was still pretending like her and Brady Samson wouldn’t make the most beautiful babies in the world.

  The look on Lo’s face changed dramatically, like a thunderhead rolling in. Tessa clenched her stomach, hoping it wasn’t what she thought.

  “Miller—”

  Tessa sucked in a gasp. Her fears confirmed.

  “Boden.”

  “Noooo!”

  “Yes.”

  Lo delved into the details, sparing no expense.

  It was how they did it. The trifecta. Lo, Spencer, Tessa. They had promised on threat of pain to be there for one another. Which wasn’t always easy, but it had only ever strengthened their bond.

  So here was Lo, kissing Brady Samson halfway around the world and her ex shows up to accuse her of having daddy issues.

  Tessa wasn’t surprised.

  By any of it.

  Brady was def kissable.

  And Miller Boden hated to lose.

  “I hate that guy,” Tessa growled tipping her pitcher to the side to suck out the remaining margarita.

  Yes, she’d drained the entire thing.

  Don’t judge.

  “Like, who does he think he is? Some sort of deity? Poseidon maybe? Well, I’ve got news for him, Poseidon was a dick too.”

  Lo sniffed back a laugh.

  Tessa waved a hand in the air. “I’m not kidding. Why do my girls get so caught up in the opinions of these losers? You and Spencer both have a problem with idiots.”

  Lo express
ion darkened. “Maybe we have daddy issues,” she grumbled, refencing Miller’s previous verbal attack.

  Tessa couldn’t handle it.

  “Of course you do!” She bugged out her eyes and set the pitcher back on the desk. “We all do! Why do you think we’re all so friggin’ attached to one another?”

  “What?” Lo asked, her mouth twisting to the side in displeasure. “You actually believe that?”

  Truth was hard for Lo sometimes. And more often than not, Tessa had to be gentle in her delivery.

  Because, daddy issues.

  All three of them had them, just in differing degrees. Lo’s dad was a user who manipulated women. Spencer’s dad was a closet alcoholic who blew his knee out in college and lost his fancy football scholarship. He was also a widower who’d wanted a son. And Tessa’s dad was a rich, arrogant, bored local politician. He had regrets about his life and medicated with expensive call girls and pathological lying.

  Tessa understood Lo’s unspoken fears because all three of them had the same one: they didn’t want to become their parents. Which is what made the trifecta so important. It kept them honest and grounded.

  “Sweetie,” Tessa began, softer and with patience this time. “Miller Boden is an a-hole. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have a point. I honestly believe you don’t realize how self-sabotaging you can be. You picked the guy that you knew would fail every one of your tests so that when you scraped him off, you’d be justified.”

  “Ouch, Tess.”

  “No, I’m not judging you,” Tessa clarified quickly. “Miller Boden is the worst. I hate that guy almost as much as Garrett freaking Hazlaw.” She rolled her eyes dramatically and snorted. “But you already know all of this. That’s not why you’re calling me, is it?”

  Lo’s face gentled and she took a small breath. “I like Brady.”

  Halleluiah! Tessa fist-pumped internally. On the outside, she propped her chin in her first and sighed dreamily. “Yeah?”

  Brady Samson was delectable. Hot surfer with piercing blue eyes and manners to boot. He was perfect for Lo. Tessa approved.

  “Yeah,” Lo confirmed, her cheeks blushing. “I don’t want Miller to be right.” Her voice cracked at the end of her confession.