Right. Christ.
“Do you think it would be possible for me to sit in? Just so I have... something to do this summer that doesn’t make me feel terribly useless.”
I keep my eyes fixed on Penelope, but I clock the tilt of Weston’s head in my periphery, the way he leans onto the table, becoming more invested in the conversation. His gaze sears the side of my face so intensely I wonder if he may leave me burned.
I wonder if I wouldn’t hate it if he did.
“You are not useless, Willow,” Penelope says quickly, placing her hand over mine before sighing deeply. “But yes, of course you can sit in on the class. In fact...” She smiles. “I actually need a T.A. Would you be interested?”
“Really?”
She nods. “The drive from Santa Monica is a long one, and it cuts into my grading time.
The university already approved me for a student assistant position. You’d earn a couple of credits toward your degree as well, and?—”
“Yes.” The word leaves my mouth so fast I’m gasping for air. “Yes, absolutely. I’d be honored.”
“Class is every Wednesday at two, and I’ll likely keep you a few hours after each week as well. Is that going to work for your schedule?” Penelope asks.
“Oh, I’ll make it work.” Mom makes my schedule anyway, and I know she’ll be as thrilled about this opportunity as I am.
My parents understand now why I left Berkeley, and they’ve been patient while I figure out where I want to go and what I want to do next, but of course, I know they’re still disappointed about my dropping out of school for the time being. I know assisting Penelope this summer will be a way for me to show them I’m still serious about my education.
A way for me to take it back for myself.
“Okay, we’ll plan to start next week then, since it appears you’re busy today.” She nods to the Honeysuckle Florals apron I’m wearing.
“Thank you, Penelope.” I place my hand over hers and squeeze gently. “You don’t know what this means to me.”
She squeezes back. “Trust me, I do.”
Weston steals my attention when he leans back in his chair, crossing his arms. The brewing storms in his eyes cast over me as his lips turn downward in a frown.
Right. I’m intruding.
“I’ll leave you two for your visit.” I smile at Penelope before pushing back my seat.
“Stay,” she pleads. “I imagine you get a full lunch break? Eat with us.”
“Oh, no. I?—”
“Stay, Willow.” Weston’s tone invites no argument, and the glare Penelope shoots him must make him realize it, because he softly adds, “Please.”
I toss him a closed-lip smile, pulling back to the table as Penelope turns to Weston. “So, tell me all about your training so far. Have you learned anything?”
He huffs a laugh, taking a sip of his coffee. “I’ve learned I suck, apparently.”
“That’s not what Dad said.” I roll my eyes. “You need to revisit your bottom turn and your cutbacks, while focusing on your endurance and agility so that you can meet large breaks with more head-on precision.”
His brows lift. “Is that so? I didn’t realize you were also coaching me, Willow.”
I can’t tell if he’s trying to flirt with me or if I pissed him off, and the way Penelope’s eyes dart between us tells me she may be thinking the same thing.
I shrug. “I know a thing or two. Maybe you could use the extra help.”
“I thought you didn’t surf.” He tilts his head, appearing genuinely curious now.
“I could surf before I could walk.” I sip from my drink. “I don’t surf competitively due to a lack of interest, not skill or knowledge. I’m better than most.”
