Page 4 of The Sweet Spot

And then there’s Brooke, the blonde I met in my econometrics class last semester. We’ve been flirting via text since classes ended, but when I asked her out last night, she left me on read. I’m not too worried—she’s made her interest clear—but I’d like to see her, maybe tonight.

So, I have reasons for being glued to my phone. Still, I’m sure I look likehalf the adolescent douchebags stumbling blindly around the boardwalk, faces lit up by screens.

Inhaling deeply, I take in the smells, sights, and sounds of the Santa Cruz boardwalk. Funny thing is, I came here way more as a kid living in the Bay Area than I have as a college student attending UCSC. I have a treasure trove of pure childhood memories of days just like today, bright blue skies and puffy white clouds, that cool, sharp breeze whipping in off the water.

My heart tugs a little as one of the surfers out on the water catches a wave. It’s been a long, hectic school year, and I haven’t been surfing for a minute. I elbow Kellan, gazing longingly at the wide strip of blue expanse out beyond the sand. “Let’s hit up Pleasure Point soon.”

“Tomorrow,” he agrees, flicking his blond hair from his face. Out of all my friends, he likes surfing the most, maybe because he grew up here.

Up ahead, Matt’s pointedly checking out a petite brunette who’s stopped to lick the ice cream dripping from her cone to her wrist. Her chest is as big as she is small—Matt’s kryptonite—but she’s with a couple of guys, so I yank homeboy along by the arm before he gets us into a fight. He hasn’t even started drinking yet, and already he’s in a mood.

“I’m thirsty as fuck,” Logan says, dropping into step with me. “Kinda hungry, too.”

“Thanks to your little wake n’ bake.” I shake my head, remembering his and Kellan’s shenanigans this morning involving the bong. “You talk to your girl yet?”

“Nope.” Logan narrows his eyes, scanning the never-ending parade of food stands. “I’d kill for a slushie or an Icee or something right now.”

Kellan glances back over his shoulder, his eyes as glazed as Logan’s. “Slushies and Icees are the same thing, man.”

Logan yawns, stretching. “Whatever. I just know I need something before we go on the Giant Dipper. The cottonmouth struggle is real.”

I grab compulsively for my phone, scrolling quickly to my email account. A promo for some new pizza place in Santa Cruz, an email from a classmate about summer study groups, a reminder from the dentist to schedule my next checkup…and, finally, the email about the internship from Pai.

Chewing my lip, I debate whether or not to open it. Admittedly, I was half hoping he’d just let it go, but I know better. He never lets anything go.Shit.

“Shut the fuck up, Matty,” I hear Logan say, followed by snickering. Ignoring the guys, I open the email.

To: Luca Cardoso

From: Carlos Cardoso

Subject: Pereira Internship

Luca,

Spoke to Pereira this morning; he’d like to have you start by mid-June.

I’m holding a flight for you, leaves next week. You’ll be staying at the apartment in Jardins.

Will call you later to finalize plans.

Pai

Attached are my flight reservations and a brief overview from Marcos Pereira’s secretary, explaining the specifics of the internship.

My stomach knots up as I scan the flight details. I love Brazil, but if I leave now, I won’t be home until Christmas.

“Luca,” snaps Logan. He’s frowning faintly, a wrinkle deepening between his eyebrows. Whoops. He’s probably been trying to get my attention for a minute.

We’re at the Sweet Spot, one of a zillion places on the boardwalk selling ice cream and whatever else people with the munchies are craving. The girl behind the counter stares up at me, a patient smile curving her lips. With her light eyes, long ponytail, and light gold tan, she’s kind of beautiful.

I smile back, caught off guard.

Logan exhales, the very picture of longsuffering. “I asked you what you wanted.”

“Um.” I squint up at the menu. “I’ll have an Icee.”

“No can do.” She wrinkles her nose, bringing my attention to the smattering of freckles sprinkled across it. “Machine’s not working. Sorry.”

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