He looks around, studying the restaurant. “It took me a while to find somewhere decent out of town.”
“Thanks for doing this,” I say, lowering my voice slightly. “Honestly…I’m kind of freaking out about tomorrow.”
His brow arches. “Why?”
I shrug. “What if it goes badly? What if I embarrass myself?”
“Kairi,” he huffs. “It’s Brandon Dingalo.”
I laugh despite myself.
“If anything, he’s probably more nervous than you are,” Colton adds.
I smile as I remember him running off to the restroom anytime I said hi to him, but on the dating app he looks and types so confidently, there’s surely no way he’ll still be as skittish.
“Yeah,” I say, deep in thought. “Maybe.”
“Hey,” he says softly. “Forget tomorrow. Let’s just focus on tonight.”
He sits up straighter. “So, tell me about yourself. Who is Kairi Nkosi?”
I snort. “What is this, a job interview?”
“Focus,” he says, fighting a smile. “Pretend this is real.”
“But you already know me.”
“Pretend I don’t,” he says. “Pretend I’m Brandon, or someone random.”
I study him for a moment, trying to shift my mindset and figure out how I would answer that question if he was, in fact, someone random.
“Okay,” I say slowly. “Well, I’m a professional surfer?—”
“Oh, cool,” he cuts in immediately, leaning forward like this is brand new information. “What’s that like?”
“Uhm,” I hesitate.
I could say I love it, but that wouldn’t be completely true because a part of me hates it for how left out it makes me feel in the industry. I sometimes wish I could just quit and move onto something else, but another part of me knows that would break my heart into millions of pieces with no hope of putting it back together.
Surfing is my first love, and I hate that the world makes me feel like I’ll never be good enough for it.
“It’s fun,” I finally say “I have great teammates.”
Colton frowns slightly. “But what about the surfing itself?”
I think back to my practices and even the competitions and I find myself mirroring his frown. It’s not fun. It feels like going out into a battlefield, and not just because it’s a competition, but because it’s usually when I receive the most negativity.
“It’s fun,” I say again.
His frown deepens. “Do you win alot?” he asks, just as our food arrives.
No.
“A decent amount,” I say instead, picking up my fork. “What about you? Who is Colton Harrison?”
He shifts in his seat and pokes at his food. “Well…I’m the youngest of four.”
I blink, because this is new.
