Waves, Stars, and Other Things to Catch

Part 3

"So I've got . . . six dollars," I said, as I counted out the crumpled bills I'd found in the front pocket of my jean shorts.

"And I've got a guitar pick," Ford said, as he turned out the pockets of his shorts. "And sand."

We were walking along the side of the road, since Ford was pretty sure there was a gas station a mile or so ahead. He wasn't entirely sure about this, but it had seemed our best option. Ford's surf spot was deserted enough that we couldn't just sit in the car and wait for someone to come by and see if they'd let us use their phone. If either of us had a phone, the whole "keys locked in the trunk thing" would not have been a big deal. Ford could have called Bruce, to see if he or my dad would drive his second set to him. Or he could have called AAA and gotten them to unlock it. But since we had no way of calling anyone, we were off in search of one. We'd looked through our pockets, just on the off chance that there would be something in there that could be helpful, but no such luck.

It wasn't dark out yet. Dusk was falling slowly, and the lights of the passing cars, seemingly going way too fast to try and flag down, were only just beginning to glow against the darkness. Luckily, there was a fairly wide shoulder, so Ford and I could walk next to each other and not be in danger of getting hit.

"Since when do you play guitar?" I asked, looking over at him.

"Since recently," he said with a shrug. He gave me a smile. "What, you think I tell you everything?"

"No," I said, laughing. "I guess I just thought you might have mentioned it." Ford and I communicated only intermittently when we weren't seeing each other. We'd occasionally Skype, or Ford would send me long, rambling e-mails when he was bored in one of his coding seminars. So I knew it wasn't like we were talking every day, but it was still disconcerting to realize that there were big things about him I didn't know.

"Well, I'm not very good yet," he admitted after a few moments of walking in silence. "I actually started learning to impress a girl."

I looked over at him, and felt my eyebrows fly up. Ford had never really talked to me about girls. In the past, I guess I'd just assumed there wasn't all that much to say, since while I'd always thought Ford was cute, the headgear and glasses probably made it harder for the rest of the world to see this. But since Ford had turned into an undeniable hottie, of course there were girls in the picture. Why had I not considered this before? "And did it work?" I asked, trying to keep my voice light, like I wasn't jealous. Because I wasn't-why would I be? Even the thought of that was crazy. I was in love with Teddy.

Ford just looked over at me for a moment, his face lit up briefly by a car's passing headlights. "I'll let you know," he said, and I nodded, trying not to think about who this girl was. It didn't matter to me, after all.

"How's the crusader?" Ford asked, after a small pause.

"Oh, fine," I said immediately, knowing he meant Teddy. Ford knew about him, of course, but maybe because of the crush I used to have on him, I never went into much detail. "Just . . . you know, trying to save the world." My boyfriend was incredibly dedicated to all kinds of charities and causes, and not just for a line on his college applications, but because he actually believed in them. In comparison, I continually felt like an apathetic person who didn't think about her carbon footprint nearly enough. But being with him had gotten me to be a lot better about recycling. "So," I said, after a small internal struggle in which I'd tried to stop myself from asking this question and failed, "who is this girl? The one you want to impress?"