Waves, Stars, and Other Things to Catch

Part 2

“Gemma?”  Ford interrupted this train of thought, and I looked back at him, hoping I wasn’t blushing and that it wasn’t totally obvious what I’d just been thinking about. 

“Yes?” I asked, trying to remember what his question had been. 

“What do you want to do now?” he asked, as he stepped off the seat and shut the door.  “We could get some pizza or something.”

“What about that seafood place?” I asked.  I’d seen a billboard for it as we’d driven along the Pacific Coast Highway to Ford’s secret spot.  I had a serious weakness for lobster rolls, and was feeling distinctly that I hadn’t had nearly enough of them this summer. 

Ford rolled his eyes.  “You and your lobster rolls,” he said, as he started to walk around the back of the car to the driver’s side, slamming the open trunk shut on his way.  “Tacos?”

“Maybe,” I said, considering that.  “Or . . .”

“You know, Gem,” Ford said, looking at me over the hood of the car, “the type of food you’re eating becomes irrelevant when you’re sharing it with really wonderful company.”

“And that wonderful company would be you?” I asked, smiling at him as I pulled open the door.  “I think this is just your way of trying to get pizza.”  We both got into the car, and I looked across at Ford, who was sitting behind the wheel, his brow furrowed.  “What’s wrong?”

Ford let out a long breath and then looked over at me.  “So remember when I put all our stuff in the trunk?” he asked.  “This was when I still thought you were going to surf,” he added.

“Yeah,” I said, not really sure where he was going with this.  I’d given him my purse, with my wallet and phone inside, and Ford had slung the car keys on some kind of waterproof lanyard round his neck. 

“So when I changed out of my wetsuit, I dropped the keys in the trunk,” he said, and I nodded. 

“Okay,” I said, still nodding.  “And?”

“And I didn’t remember to take them out.” 

I just looked at him, wondering why he looked so upset by this.  “So just pop the trunk,” I said.  “Do you want me to get them?”  Maybe he was really exhausted by the surfing, and this was his way of asking me to do it for him. 

Ford shook his head.  “That’s the thing,” he said, looking pained.  “This car doesn’t have a trunk release.  You can only get the trunk open with the keys.  Which…”

“Which are in the trunk,” I finished, my stomach sinking.  I was beginning to understand why Ford was looking so pale.  “Okay,” I said, trying to think.  “My phone’s in the trunk.  Is yours in the car?” I asked hopefully, looking in the glove compartment, but finding only the owner’s manual, a pack of cards, and a stack of napkins from Ford’s favorite Mexican place. 

“Trunk,” Ford said grimly.  We looked across at each other, and I started to realize just how bad this situation was.  We couldn’t start the car, we didn’t have our phones, and it was beginning to get dark outside. 

“Ruh-roh,” I said, and Ford gave me a half smile. 

“You can say that again.”

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