The Moment of Letting Go - J. A. Redmerski Page 0,39

and now he owes me.”

I chuckle.

Seth laughs and takes a quick swig from his beer, balancing the bottle neck between his thick, rugged fingers. “You’re so full of shit,” he says.

Luke looks at me—his hand has not only remained on my waist, but it just squeezed me tighter—and smiles. “We’ve been best friends for about six years,” he says. “And Kendra, she’s part of our family.”

Kendra, who has been standing with us the whole time, smiles hugely. She has a lot of freckles, just like me, splashed across her nose and cheeks.

“Your family?” I ask Luke.

“Yeah, that’s one way of putting it,” Kendra says. “So how long are you in Hawaii for?”

I was hoping she’d elaborate.

OK, so everything about me screams tourist. Great.

“Two weeks,” I answer.

Luke is beaming standing next to me. “I had to talk her into it,” he says, and Kendra and Seth exchange a look.

Then they look at me.

“Did he manipulate you?” Kendra says in jest. “He’s good at that. You gotta be careful around this one.” She grins at me.

“All right now,” Luke says and walks with me to the patio. He leans toward my ear and whispers, “Don’t let them get in your head; they’re worse than they try to make me out to be,” but it was hardly low enough they couldn’t hear him.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” I smirk up at him.

Braedon comes walking from around the side of the house looking like a linebacker with four more folded lawn chairs in his hands. Luke’s hand finally slips away from my waist and he takes two of the chairs from Braedon, unfolding them with a snap and setting them side by side on the patio. Some other guy comes walking down the back steps and goes straight over to the barbecue grill, lifting the lid with a giant spatula in his other hand; smoke billows in big puffs into the air as it escapes the confines of the lid. The meat on the grill sizzles and pops as he begins flipping the burgers over.

I hear the shuffling of ice inside a nearby Igloo chest as Luke reaches inside and pulls out two bottles of beer. He pops the lid on one and holds it out to me.

“Thanks.”

He pops the lid on one for himself and we sit down at the same time in the two empty chairs.

“So are you not here with anyone?” Kendra asks in her chair across from us. “I mean, in Hawaii,” she clarifies.

“I was,” I say. “Actually I was here on a job, but after the job was over, I decided to make a vacation of it.” I glance over at Luke sitting next to me and we smile at each other. “He did kind of talk me into staying,” I admit, and then with a smile, I add, “Not that it was very hard to do.”

Kendra and Seth catch Luke’s eyes again, but I pretend not to notice. Pressing the bottle to my lips, I take a small sip.

Music plays from a stereo inside the house, funneling through the screens on the open windows, but it’s not obnoxiously loud, and none of the people here are obnoxiously drunk. It’s more a social gathering than a wild party and I’m glad for that—I’m no angel and like to party every now and then, but with Luke, I just want to hang out and keep things cool.

Luke and Seth start talking about some guy on Kauai who just bought a new hang glider, but he makes it a point to keep me from feeling excluded by interjecting a comment to me about it every now and then. Really, it’s not necessary, but I think it’s sweet of him to worry about me like that and want to make sure I feel comfortable. All of us talk for a long time—though I talk less than anyone because I’m not from around here, am not familiar with surfing or hang gliding or hiking the Pipiwai Trail or even with the everyday conversations, but still, Luke makes sure I never feel excluded. At one point, his hand finds its way to my thigh, where he pats it for a moment, smiling over at me, and then moves it away.

I don’t want him to move it away, but I guess it’s too soon to be suggesting something like that, especially in front of other people, two of whom—Kendra more than Seth—happen to be watching Luke and me with overly curious glances that make me