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“This early? On your birthday?” He crossed his arms. “I thought you’d sleep in. I was going to make breakfast burritos.”

I clasped my hands. “As a token of my appreciation, you have a perfectly clean prep station.” My smile was so fake my lips felt like they’d split.

He eyed me, a bit suspicious. “Well since you’re up…help me chop these.” He threw me two bell peppers and opened the fridge, mumbling, “That’s weird, I could have sworn we had half an onion in here…”

I, perhaps a little too eagerly, accepted his offer as sous. Dicing the veggies as slowly and purposefully as possible was a good diversion from his comments on the messy state of the fridge and the garlic that also seemed to have disappeared.

Soon the smoke from burnt sausage and the sizzle of bacon filled our cozy galley. It snuffed out my dad’s lingering wariness, watered our eyes, and made both our stomachs rumble.

As my dad measured coffee grounds, I sat down at the table and packed my tortilla with eggs. Hurried footsteps struck the stairs—at least this intruder used the front door.

Javi’s eyes glinted with hunger. “Ah, just in time.” And at least he was human.

It should have made me smile, but all I could think about as he waltzed in and sat down, flipping those black wavy strands out of his eyes as he filled up a plate, was that it might be the last time he interrupted a birthday breakfast. Because who knew what next year at college would bring and if he’d find himself preferring to stay in Santa Barbara instead of coming home for the summer, for my birthday.

Even though I didn’t want to dwell on that, my frown stayed put as I teased him. “Great timing, Jav. The hard work’s over and the feast is about to begin.”

“Perks of being the guest of honor.” His wink combatted my eye roll as my elbow landed on a rogue potato that had rolled off his over-stuffed plate.

I peeled its mushed interior off my skin and threw it at his forehead.

“Bullseye,” he said mid-chomp. That got a stifled laugh out of me.

Gobbling up a cheesy bite, he leaned in and whispered, “You okay this morning? You seemed a little tense when I walked in. Is it what happened with Chet yesterday?”

I chewed a bit more aggressively at the sound of that d-bag’s name. That’s not what bothered me, but I didn’t have the guts to say what did: It’s not Chet—it’s you. And it stirred something in me to see him walk in like he owned the place. I hadn’t realized how much I was going to miss it.

So, I deflected. “No, I just…I had the weirdest dream last night.” A cold shiver worked its way through me as I envisioned the fairy-sprite-creature thing’s bald head rotating almost full circle. I eyed the other side of the kitchen as the teakettle whistled, and my dad poured the hot water into his French press. “You know when you wake up and it feels like you’re still in it—like you’re in some sort of illusion?”

Javi held up his fork, wiggling it to his words. “Ah, lucid dreaming?”

“Hmm. No.”

“Sleepwalking?”

“No.”

“Still half-asleep?”

“Maybe I was.” I shook my head. “I mean…I woke up to a blue sprite the size of a crow, raiding my kitchen, after all.”

He snorted and I swore a droplet of orange juice spewed out of his nostrils. “River, you kill me sometimes.”

“Yeah…” Hadn’t meant for that to be a knee-slapper. “Pretty wild.”

“Surf report looks good today,” my dad announced as he joined us at the table, tendrils of steam wafting from his mug. The caramel streaks in his hair glinted in the light as it curtained his forehead and he dove into his food, too. “You guys want to head to the Point after this?”

Our chipmunk cheeks stopped any verbal answer. Javi nodded and I gave a thumbs up.

“Great. I might need to leave early to work on my syllabus—classes begin next week.” My dad turned to me with a look of sympathy. “When does summer school start for you again, Riv?”

“Monday.” I bowed my head in dismay.

“What about you, Javi? When does school start?”

Javi spread his arms wide, as if they were wings. “I’m a free bird till September.”

This subtle reminder of his imminent departure hit me square in the heart. I tried to let it slide; I knew he hadn’t meant to irk me. “Lucky you,” I muttered.