Before they pulled back onto the roadway, she had him wait while she tapped on her phone.
“Oh, goody! There it is. Look.” She waved her phone so close to his face there was no way to see anything.
“See? Rocky Lobster. Winning!”
She directed him with the efficiency of a turn-by-turn app, warning him in plenty of time for some pretty interesting driving maneuvers until she squealed, “There! See? Up ahead. Pull over, pull over!”
Pounding on his arm, she unleashed her unbridled enthusiasm with typical delight.
“Get ready for a taste bud orgasm. You won’t believe how good this is. Rocky Lobster is a local legend. Come on, come on. Park this thing.”
Was she out the door the minute the vehicle stopped? Yes.
Was she right about the taste bud orgasm? Also, yes.
Once again, her food truck preference scored a home run. They pigged out on lobster rolls and demolished a takeout container of crispy fries sprinkled with sea salt and seasoned with Old Bay.
“What do you want to do now?” he asked her as they gathered their trash and policed the Jeep’s interior. “It’s your day off, so the shots are yours to call.”
“Yeah? Then let’s drive south on PCH toward Ventura. The edge of the continent offers a spectacular view. If we’re lucky, we’ll see the Channel Islands.”
The radio assault began not long after they hit the fabled Pacific Coast Highway 101. Summer was a manic station changer. In rather short order, he discovered she would rather eat raw liver than sit through even one minute of Lynyrd Skynyrd’s “Free Bird.” She also had a weakness for girl singers and didn’t hesitate to stand up, stick her face into the wind, and sing her heart out as they sped along.
“This is my song,” she shrieked when Katy Perry’s “Teenage Dream” played. “Remember?”
Crawling all over him, she vamped it up, and at one point, almost put them in a ditch when she got handsy with his junk. When she stood with her arms wide and crooned about love and skintight jeans, Arnie committed every second to memory.
“I love Carrie Underwood,” she yelled over the loud music when the next song came on.
Until Summer started singing about being an All-American girl, he didn’t have an opinion about the American Idol winner, but his outlook changed after he heard the lyrics. When the song ended, he asked, “Is that what you want, Summer? To be the center of someone’s world?”
She looked at him as though he was crazy. “Arnie, isn’t that what all motherless kids want?”
Oh, shit. She hit the nail on the head.
Lowering the radio’s volume was her signal that she wanted to talk. Sweeping her hair behind one shoulder in a gesture of defiance, she launched into a fascinating speech on modern love and made clear she wasn’t thrilled with today’s hookup culture and would never, ever sign up for online dating.
Summer was a people person, and she genuinely gave a shit about everyone. This trait was rare and set her apart. Lots of people put on a good show, but she led with her heart.
“I know it’s not the norm anymore. Over time, the notion of a commitment lost its implied longevity. People fling the phrase around.” She made air quotes and sneered, “The committed relationship. Bah! When did committed and temporary start meaning the same thing?” Summer’s displeasure was apparent when she spit out, “Lazy relationships. Ergh.”
Silence followed for the next few miles, and then she asked, “What about you?”
Surprising himself, he had an immediate reply. “Being the center of someone’s world is a two-way street. It’s not just women who crave it, Summer. And it’s more complicated than it sounds.”
“So you’re saying yes, you want to be someone’s world.”
“Your world, sunshine girl. That’s the two-way street. You’re at the center with me, and I’m at the center with you. And hopefully at the same time.”
“Are we speaking metaphorically?”
“There’s nothing metaphorical about me and you.”
“We have a bit of a logistics problem,” she said in a cool voice.
What an understatement! But logistics was only a part of it. Beginning a serious relationship in the absence of context presented unusual challenges.
“We’re in a bubble,” Summer murmured.
“How did you get to be so wise?”
“I read Cosmo.”
“You know what we need?” he asked as the serious vibe hanging in the air started to feel uncomfortable. “Ice cream.”
“Nice redirect.” She laughed. “Very smooth.”
He reached for her hand and lifted it to his mouth. Keeping his eyes on the road wasn’t easy.