Page 63 of All Signs Point to Malibu

“They double-booked.” Hailey paces, rubs her temples, tries to sober up to deal with the latest crisis. But then she pauses, lured into a deep conversation about aliens with a potted cactus.

I have to pull it together.

I climb out of the pool and bend at the knees to look into her face. “Don’t sweat it. I have a few at my place.”

Hailey looks at me like I’ve just discovered a way to maintain world peace. “When did you become Mr. Save the Day?”

I’ll admit coming to the rescue—herrescue—has an odd effect on me. Probably because she’s so self-sufficient and composed all the time. Watching her stressed and unraveling and knowing I can help is empowering.

“What can I say—America’s Hero,” I say with a wink.

“Okay, hotshot, let’s go.”

Twenty minutes later, Warren pulls his Jeep in front of a modest two-story house in a nice neighborhood. He drove, as apparently having only one percent body fat helped him metabolize the cannabis quicker, and I’m still sporadically hearing inanimate objects. What the hell was in those desserts?

I frown and say, “I thought you lived in that bungalow on 8th Street?”

Warren laughs. “You thought I still lived in the house near campus I shared with six other dudes?”

“Um, yeah.”

He shakes his head as we open the doors and climb out.

Inside, the house is even more of a shocker. It’s a neat, nicely decorated home. Football-themed items throughout but not tacky. I’m impressed by the matching decor and modern color scheme, sleek appliances, and even a few house plants that look to be thriving. “This place is really not bad.”

Warren’s earlier easygoing demeanor has changed. He’s back to slightly tense and broody, as though having me in his personal space puts him on edge. “Glad it meets your approval,” he says. “Don’t touch anything.”

I send him a look. So much for my knight in shining armor. Or rather, diamond-encrusted sunglasses. Looking at him now, I can’t even recognize him as the guy who was envisioning unicorn-shaped clouds and taking about existential crises.

“Tables are downstairs,” he says.

I nod but then notice a certificate from California State University on a table near the door, next to a frame that he’s yet to put it in. I pick it up and read the fancy script that says... “You have a diploma in sports psychology?” Shocked would be an understatement.

Annoyed, Warren takes it from me. “I told you not to touch anything,” he grumbles.

“When did you get time to do this?”

He shrugs. “Maybe some days I get up before noon.”

Okay, so maybe I’ve misjudged him.

“Come on,” he says leading the way down the hall to a flight of stairs.

I follow close behind, still trying to process the idea of him studying to become a sports therapist. Not that I doubt he’s capable of that, but because it’s impressive in ways I wasn’t expecting and now I’m questioning everything I know about him and wanting to learn more.

I’ve known him most of my life, but the relationship has always been superficial. We’ve never really had deep, meaningful conversations. He was Liam’s best friend—a fun, easygoing third wheel with a solitary focus on football. We lost touch after the breakup, until that day at the airport. Working together to plan this party has been a mix of tearing one another’s throats out and flirting until it’s not safe, then reining it in.

But now I find myself wanting to actually know him. Know why he chose online studies, why he coaches on a local level instead of accepting offers from big colleges he must be receiving... Why he’s still single.

But getting to know him would be dangerous and being completely vulnerable with him is impossible, hence the standstill that is the story of my life.

I follow him down a flight of stairs into...

Ah, the man cave.

Downstairs is more of what I was expecting. Large, comfy-looking sofas and chairs. A flat-screen TV the size of a small movie theatre screen. A poker table in the corner near a bar with a stocked liquor shelf and beer fridge.

I pause, seeing his sports accomplishments on display along one wall. Football championship trophies and medals from junior high to his professional days. Top athlete awards and VIP trophies. He was an all-state champ and held the top stats for three years as a quarterback. Photos show him in uniform with various teams, from the ones with Liam in high school to professional teams. I peruse them all in real amazement. He has had one hell of an impressive career.

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