He steps up to close the space I created when I started to walk away from him. I can’t find my voice—not sure what to say to something like that.
“Come on,” he continues, a smile slowly etching into his features. “Unless you have somewhere you absolutely have to be the moment you step off that plane in San Diego, it’s not going to hurt you to miss this flight and catch the next one.” His smile broadens and he gestures a hand casually amid the space in front of him. “People miss their flights all the time: woke up late; got stuck in traffic; got clipped in the street by a crazy, bike-riding chick who feeds her victims tortilla chips before she tortures them—pick any excuse and go with it.”
I chuckle lightly, a tiny burst of air pushing through my lips. But I still can’t bring myself to respond, because I’m not sure how. I know what I want to do, but like so much in my life, it doesn’t at all feel like I should.
He gives me puppy-dog eyes.
Seriously?! Puppy-dog eyes? You think that’s actually going to work?
“OK,” I say, caving to some mysterious forces at work here that I need to have a serious talk with later. “Let me call the airline and see if I can get a later flight. My assistant is going to think I’ve lost my mind.”
Beaming, Luke nods and takes a step back as if to give me some privacy. I dig my phone from my bag and unlock the screen. I quickly look up my flight info online and call the airline to find out if there’s a later flight out today. There is, and I book it without even thinking about the extra charges for making a last-minute change.
“I bought myself three hours,” I tell Luke, taking into account the hour it takes to get to the airport. “How are we going to spend it?” I drop my phone inside my bag and suck in a deep, nervous, crazy breath—what am I doing? This is nuts! And why does it feel like my face is about to split in half?
Luke grins back at me.
He steps up to me. I hear the sand crunching underneath his flip-flops. His closeness makes me intimately aware of my own heartbeat. I don’t know why. I don’t care that I don’t. I just know that I don’t want it to stop.
“I’m going to show you,” he says.
“You’re going to show me what? How to surf?”
His smile broadens, enhancing the light in his hazel eyes. He starts to speak, but then it seems that just before the answer leaves his lips, he stops. He thinks on it some more, maybe choosing his words carefully? I can never know, but that’s what it feels like. I just watch and wait patiently, the light in my own eyes never dimming, the smile on my lips never waning.
But his wanes. Just a little.
“What three hours in a place like Hawaii is supposed to be like,” he finally answers.
I think it was far from the answer he had wanted to give.
“I trust you’re a good guide,” I say, grinning. “You should be, being a local and all.”
“Oh, I’m not a local,” he says.
“Really? I assumed you were.”
“Nope.” He crosses his arms over his chest. “I’ve only lived in Hawaii for a year and a half.”
“Where did you move from?”
“Sacramento,” he answers and then holds out his hand, giving his head a quick jerk backward. “Come on, we can talk on the way. Three hours isn’t much time.”
I look down at his hand, wanting to take it, but at the same time feeling that it’s too soon. But maybe it isn’t, because everything inside of me wants to take it and to throw the too-soon rules right out the damn window.
I reach into my bag instead.
“Wait a second,” I say as I retrieve my cell phone again. “Let’s take a picture first.”
Luke looks vaguely surprised.
“All right,” he agrees. “Selfies are doable, but none of that duck-lips stuff.”
I laugh lightly as he steps up beside me and drapes an arm around me from behind.