Meanwhile, I looked around and realized my surfboard was gone. It had probably drifted out to sea. Just my luck.
“Brian, where’s my board?” I wondered aloud. “It was a rental. The board-rental guy’s gonna kill me.”
“No one who’s seen you would kill you,” Brian said. I turned to face him, surprised, and he stammered, “I-I mean, if he saw the accident and all, he knows you have a legitimate reason. Yeah.” He was a little red in the face by now. I decided to let it slide.
“Right,” I said. “I gotta go explain it to him. Will you come with me as a witness?”
“Sure. I’m staying with you till I’m absolutely sure you’re all right,” he reminded me.
Now that I had a chance to protest, I decided to. “You know, you don’t have to do that.”
“Well, I’m going to anyway,” he told me. “I’m kind of responsible for this happening to you, so I feel like I have to do it.”
“Thanks,” I said. I started for the board-rental booth, but my legs were shaky, my head really hurt, and I was still nauseous from swallowing all that salt water. I was having trouble walking in a straight line.
“If you need to lean on me, you can,” Brian offered.
“Thanks,” I said. “I may just have to. I feel like I’m about to fall over. My head just...” I mimicked an explosion with my hands. “I hit it on the board. That’s why I passed out.”
Brian winced. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s OK. You’re redeeming yourself. You’re doing more for me than you have to.”
“Stupid as it may sound, the little voice in my head was saying, ‘You idiot, she needs help.’ And the last time I ignored that little voice, I ended up so toasted I couldn’t see for about a day. I was like, ‘Huh what, where am I?’” He pretended to stagger around like a drunk, and I couldn’t help laughing.
“Come on, I have to go negotiate with the board guy,” I said. “It’s kind of important that he doesn’t hate me for losing his board. And besides, he’s got my stuff.”
We walked – actually, Brian walked and I leaned on him, because I really didn’t feel well – over to the board-rental booth. As it turned out, the guy had seen the accident, and he even gave me my money back. I took my stuff and found a prime spot on the sand. I laid out my towel and sat down on one end, with Brian sitting on the other.
Neither one of s spoke for a few minutes, just sneaked glances at each other. Then someone nearby turned on a radio, and Fatboy Slim’s “The Rockafeller Skank” blasted from the speakers. It was my favorite song, and I couldn’t keep myself from singing along.
“Right about now, the funk soul brother. Check it out now, the funk soul brother,” I sang along softly. Brian joined in, and we sat there singing like a couple of idiots for about five lines. Then we looked at each other and cracked up.
“I love that song,” I confessed.
“Yeah, it’s cool.”
“So…what brings you guys to Hawaii?” I asked.
“We really needed a vacation after all the work we did on the new album. We went to Maui a couple years ago after we did a bunch of work, and we liked it, so we came back. Only this time we’re here, obviously.”
“Yeah.”
“So where are you from?”
“San Francisco. I go to UC Berkeley. The blond girl, Michelle, is my stepsister, so we’re both from there.”
“She’s not in college too, is she? She looks younger than you.”
“Only a year and a half. She is still in high school, though.”
“Oh, okay.” He paused. “You know, I never did find out your name.”
I was a little surprised that he wanted to know, but then I reminded myself he probably hung out like this with the fans on occasion. (Just not under the same circumstances…of that I was sure.) It made me feel bad to rationalize like this, but it was the truth, as far as I was concerned.
“Natalie,” I told him. “Natalie Patterson.”
Brian smiled. “I always thought that was a beautiful name. I guess it makes sense that it’s your name.” Then he clapped his hand over his mouth. “Did I just say that out loud?”
I nodded, blushing a little. “That’s your second slip so far, and we haven’t known each other 15 minutes.” This guy was either a real smooth liar, or he liked me. And either way, I was flattered. Sure, I was well-liked and all – or at least, I liked to think so – but I always felt kinda, well, plain compared to Michelle and a lot of my other friends. They were so good at snagging the guys they wanted. But I hadn’t had a boyfriend since the summer before my senior year of high school. And that guy had left me for the captain of the cheerleading squad – who, I might add, he had been cheating on me with – a week before our three-month anniversary because I wouldn’t sleep with him. And I had loved him, too. Ever since then, it had been hard for me to trust guys, no matter how nice they seemed, because of that one bad relationship. I just didn’t want to get hurt.
“Well, I’m just telling the truth,” Brian said quietly.
I smiled at him. “Thank you.”
There was an awkward silence after that. After a few minutes, Brian said, “So...uh...you a basketball fan?”
I smiled. Finally something we could talk about without a risk of awkward compliments. “Yeah, I’m into it.”
“I know what you’re gonna say...’Warriors pride’.”
I made a face. “Ugh. I hate to bash my hometown team…actually, I don’t…but I’m not proud of them in the least. I’m the one people glare at for cheering on the other team. Latrell Sprewell gave us a bad name. No, I’m more for the Spurs. They’re awesome.”
“I know. They’re doing so well this season. Tim Duncan’s gonna lead them to victory.” He grinned. “If the Knicks don’t beat ‘em first.”
“Come on!” I exclaimed. “The Knicks suck! Maybe they have Patrick Ewing, and that’s all fine and good. But now they also have Latrell Sprewell, and for that reason they can all just die.”
Brian gave me a funny look. “You really don’t like Sprewell, do you?”
“He beat up his coach. What would you have done, gotten out the wine and the funny hats and celebrated?” As I realized how stupid I sounded, I burst out laughing. “Sorry, that just sounded better in my head. Hey, shouldn’t you be rooting for the Magic anyway, being from Orlando and all?”
“You kidding? I’d rather watch Shaquille O’Neal try to make free throws than watch the Magic play. And I’d rather watch paint dry than do either of those. I swear to God, I made more free throws in one game of seventh-grade basketball than that man has in his whole career.” I laughed again. Man, this guy was beyond funny.
We talked about basketball a little longer before we changed the subject. We must have talked for a good hour about anything and everything. And I realized that even though I’d just met him, Brian was really growing on me. He was sweet, and funny as hell, and I’d been wrong when I’d thought he was an asshole for running into me. He hadn’t meant to do anything wrong.
Like, forever later, Michelle came up behind me, carrying her surfboard.
“Natalie, you feeling well enough to leave?” she asked me. “I’m done surfing for today.”
During the course of Brian’s and my conversation, any less-than-pleasant feelings had disappeared. Other than the fact that my head still kind of hurt, I was almost 100% again. But I wanted to hang out with Brian more. He was so cool.
You’ll see him again, my mind told me. Just wait.
“Yeah, I feel better. Let’s get going,” I said to Michelle, who headed for the board-rental booth. Brian stood up so I could get my towel, and I packed up my stuff. “It was nice meeting you,” I told him. “See you around.” I started after Michelle, but he stopped me.
“Hey, where are you staying?” he asked me.
“Why?”
He fidgeted a little, like he didn’t do this often, but then he looked me straight in the eye and said, “Well, I wanna get to know you better. Just as friends,” he added hastily. “And I was wondering if I could call you.”
I smiled at him. “Yeah, I’d like that. I’m staying over there”—I pointed across the street toward the Hyatt – “at the Hyatt Regency. The number there’s...”
“Hold on. Did you say the Hyatt?”
“Yeah, why?”
Brian looked shocked, but in a good way. “Get outta town. We’re staying there too, me and the rest of the guys, on the 18th floor. I’m in 1807.”
I grinned, glad to know that this awesome new friend of mine was just a quick elevator ride away. See, what’d I tell you? my mind said triumphantly. “Oh cool, I’m in 2005,” I told him.
“Cool. So...I guess I’ll see ya around, then. Take it easy.”
“I will. Thanks again. Bye.” And I walked over to Michelle, feeling like there was no ground below me, like I was walking on air, like I was going to wake up any second now in my own bed back in San Francisco. That last hour had not just happened to me.
Michelle was grinning at me as I approached, and the first words out of her mouth were “So, did you have fun with Brian?”
I laughed. “How did I know you were gonna say that?”
“Let’s face it, Nat, it’s not every day you meet a Backstreet Boy. Maybe in your wildest dreams...but not in the real world.”
“Oh yeah, he is a Backstreet Boy, isn’t he? I kinda forgot after a while. He’s so normal and nice and sweet...and man, is he funny.”
“Did he hit on you?”
“What?!” I exclaimed, to her laughter. “I mean, he complimented me a couple of times, but he was probably just being nice. I wouldn’t call that being hit on.”
“Well, did he ask for your number?” Michelle persisted.
“No need. We’re all staying in the same hotel, the Hyatt over here,” I told her as we crossed the street and walked back toward the hotel.
Michelle stopped dead in her tracks, right in the middle of traffic. I grabbed her by the arm and pulled her across the street. For a moment, she was absolutely speechless, which was not a common thing for her. At last she said, “What?”
“You heard me. The Backstreet Boys are staying in our hotel.”
She shook her head. “Uh-uh. You lie.”
“I’m not kidding.”
“Yes you are.”
“We’ll see.”
We walked along in silence. After a moment, Michelle asked me, “So, you like him?”
I shrugged. “He’s OK.” Michelle rolled her eyes at me, and I admitted. “All right, he’s better than OK. But not just because he’s a Backstreet Boy. Not at all because of that. Because he’s funny and really sweet...” I smiled as I remembered those incredible eyes gazing down at me when I’d woken up. “And really hot.”
“Ha! I knew that had to be a big part of it.”
I laughed. “Oh, shut up.”
While Michelle and I were talking, Brian and Nick were having a conversation of their own.
“So what’s she like?” Nick asked.
“She’s nice. She’s a cool girl. I kinda wish I hadn’t met her by almost killing her.”
“Yeah, but you saved her life, so that kinda cancels it out.”
Brian shrugged. “I only did...” he began, but Nick cut him off.
“What anyone else would have done. I figured you were gonna say that.”
“Well, it’s the truth.”
“If you say so. Her friend seems cool too.”
Brian shot Nick a sly look. “I know you, man. Did you talk to her at all?”
“Well, no. Not really,” Nick admitted. “Not as much as you talked to what’s-her-name, anyway.”
“Natalie. Her name’s Natalie.” Brian was quiet for a moment. “You wanna know the truth? I like her a lot. I really want to get to know her better.” Then he grinned at Nick. “Guess where they’re staying, Frack?”
“Where?” Suddenly it seemed to dawn on him. “No way.”
“Way. Natalie and Michelle are at the Hyatt.”
Nick laughed. “Bull.” A moment later, “Seriously?”
“Would I lie to you?” Nick gave him an are-you-kidding-me look, and Brian added, “I mean when it’s important? Natalie told me what room they’re in, too. Now you can call Michelle and actually have more than a two-word conversation with her.”
Nick smacked Brian upside the head. “Shut up, Frick.”