Page 22 of A Shore Fling

TRAVIS

T he taco truck always draws a crowd, so I’m not surprised by the number of people already sitting at the picnic tables.

The multi-colored string lights flash, drawing the attention of all who pass by.

If the flashing lights aren’t enough to convince them, the scent of grilled steak and fried tortillas is.

As we approach, I see Nina’s eyes go wide, like she’s realizing how great this meal is going to be.

“This place is always busy,” I say, slipping into line behind a couple of teenagers.

“It smells like heaven,” she says. “Do I trust you enough to let you order for me?”

“Depends. Do you want tacos and the best queso you’ve ever had?”

She gives me a skeptical look. “I do… but will they live up to your hype?”

“Hell yeah. This food could solve world problems.”

The truck window slides open, and Teddy, the owner, leans out with a nod. “Hey! How’s it going?”

“I can’t complain. This is Nina. She’s visiting from New York.”

Teddy glances at her. “It’s nice to meet you. What’s a girl like you doing with this guy?”

I shake my head. “Ignore him.”

Nina smiles politely. “It’s nice to meet you, Teddy.”

“What can I get you two?”

Nina looks at me expectantly. “Why don’t you order for us?”

I nod, then order too much food for us to possibly eat, but I want her to be able to try my favorites. We end up at a picnic table near the edge of the lot, close enough to hear the waves hitting the pier even though it’s across the street and two blocks away.

“How long have you been in your current position?” she asks.

“Since my dad retired.”

Her mouth falls open. “Your dad was also the harbormaster?”

“Yep. When I was a teenager, I’d sometimes get to ride around when he’d patrol. I knew then what I wanted to do for my career.”

“That’s sweet. He must be so proud of you.”

“He seems to be. He showed me the ropes, and I’m thankful he was able to teach me so much.”

“Did you go to college?”

“Yeah, I went to a local university and got a business degree.”

“I also have a business degree. Want to come work for my family’s company?” she jokes.

“No, thanks. I couldn’t handle living or working in a city. I need the smell of the salt air and the sound of the waves crashing against the shore to lull me to sleep at night.” I notice Teddy flagging me down, so I stand. “I’ll be right back.”

“Don’t forget napkins,” she reminds me.

Teddy hands me a box with all our food inside and a tray with our drinks. “Nina seems nice,” he says.

“She’s great.”

“Don’t screw it up,” he tells me.

“Why does everyone keep saying that?”

“That’s a question for you to ask yourself,” he says.

I return to Nina, setting the box in the middle of the table.

I place her cup of soda in front of her and mine on my side of the table.

“There are beef tacos, steak tacos, and chicken quesadillas. I also got queso and chips.” I remove the cover from the queso container.

“I couldn’t let you miss the best part.” She dips a chip into the queso, takes a bite, and immediately goes quiet.

“Well?”

She points at me with the next chip. “Okay. I’m mad at you.”

“Why?”

“Because now I’m going to crave this for the rest of my life, and I don’t live here.”

I grin and steal her chip. “Guess you’ll have to come back.”

We eat in easy silence for a while, both of us leaning over our trays to avoid dripping salsa everywhere. Nina keeps looking around at everything and everyone, like she’s trying to memorize the feeling of it all. She wipes her hands on a napkin and then leans back a little.

“Are you getting full?” I ask.

“A little, but I just wanted to take a minute to enjoy this bubble of happiness.”

“What do you mean?”

“Look around us.”

Kids with sandy feet, still in their bathing suits, chase a ball as it rolls between tables while their parents enjoy their meal, an older couple a few tables over share an order of churros, and a teenage couple shyly hold hands as they wait for their order.

“Do you see it too?”

“Yeah.” I place my hand on top of hers where it rests on the table. “I also feel it because of you.”

“Happiness?” she asks.

I nod. “Yes.”

“You make me happy too.”

“I like spending time with you, Nina.”

She smiles.“I like it too.”

“I’m glad you’re here,” I say before I can talk myself out of it.

“Here, as in this zip code or here at the picnic table?”

“Both.”

“Well, I can add damn good tacos and life-changing queso to the list of things Havenport has to offer,” she says.

I grab another chip, scoop up some queso, and pop it between my lips. I’ve overeaten already, but this stuff is addictive.

“Do you ever wonder what you’d be doing if you weren’t here?” she asks.

“Sometimes,” I admit. “But my thoughts always come back to the things that are important to me. Being on the water. Being close to my family. Helping out in the community. I don’t think I was meant for anything else.”

“You don’t ever feel restless?”

I consider her question. “I think everyone does, now and then. But I’ve never thought about leaving. Not really.”

She nods again, slower this time. “That’s the difference between us. I’m always thinking about what’s next. How can I improve my family’s business? What goals I should be working toward.”

“That doesn’t sound like a bad thing.”

“It’s exhausting.” She laughs softly, but there’s another emotion underneath it. “I keep wondering if I even know what I want or if I’m just doing what I’m good at because it’s easier than figuring it out.”

I study her for a second. There’s a vulnerability there she doesn’t usually show. She’s polished, driven, and sharp. But this quiet uncertainty is just as real. Maybe more so.

“What would happen if you stopped chasing the next thing and just let yourself stay still for a while?” I ask.

“That’s my time here is supposed to be about,” she says with a half smile. “I need to figure some things out.”

“Let me know if I can help.”

“That’s nice of you to offer, but this is my stuff to work through.”

We stay there for a few more minutes before we start to clean off our table.

“Do you want the leftover tacos?” I ask.

“No, you take them. You can have them for lunch tomorrow.”

We both rise from the wooden benches. I toss our trash in a nearby barrel and then take Nina’s hand. “We can walk off the queso,” I say, as we start down the sidewalk.

“You mean before we bike it off?” she teases.

I laugh. “I forgot about that.”

“I didn’t. The nervous butterflies are already kicking in.”

“You’ll be fine. I’ve got you.” I give her hand a gentle squeeze.

“I know.”

When we get back to the bike, I drop the wrapped-up leftover tacos in the front basket. Nina climbs on behind me without hesitation this time.

“You ready?” I ask, glancing over my shoulder.

“I think I’ve passed beginner status,” she says, placing her hands on the back handlebars.

“Let’s do this,” I say, pushing off.

We fall into rhythm almost instantly. Her pedaling syncs with mine, and we move along smoothly. It’s nothing like our first ride. There’s no nervous laughter or hesitation on her part.

Halfway down the street, she drags in a deep breath and then exhales a contented sigh. “The air is so fresh and cleansing.”

“What’s the New York City air smell like?” I ask.

“Exhaust, piss, and weed,” she says, laughing.

“I’ve never been.”

“You should come visit,” she suggests.

“After your glowing endorsement? Maybe not.”

“Well, it’s not all bad. I live there.”

“That’s true.” But even so, I can’t see myself visiting. Seeing her in her world would only remind me of how much I don’t belong.

We fall silent for the remainder of the ride. Nina continues pedaling like a champ, her uncertainty gone. I can feel the difference on every turn we take. She’s no longer fighting against the bike’s movements out of fear. Instead, she’s remaining loose and going with the flow.

When we pull into her driveway, I hop off and hold the frame steady so she can climb down. She places a hand on my shoulder for balance, and I catch myself wishing she didn’t let go so quickly.

“I did much better this time,” she says, glowing with pride.

“You did great,” I say, handing her the lobster pin she purchased. I grab the rest of the things from the basket and set them inside the truck’s cab. Lowering the tailgate, I lay the bike on the tarp in the bed and then closed the tailgate.

I walk beside her to the front porch and climb the stairs behind her. At the top she pivots around, facing me. “This night has been perfect.”

“Yeah,” I agree. “It has been.”

She shifts her weight from one foot to the other. “So... we’re just going to pretend like we didn’t have a moment earlier?”

“Which moment? The queso orgasm or the part where I said you make me feel happy?”

She rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling. “Both. But especially the latter.”

“I’m not pretending, Nina.”

“Me either.” She drops her chin slightly, then looks back up. “You make this feel easy.”

“Because it is.”

She nods slowly, like she’s weighing something. “I don’t usually let things be easy.”

“I’ve noticed,” I say gently.

She lets out a quiet laugh. “It’s not intentional. I’m just used to being in control. Planning. Structuring. Working toward something.”

“And this?” I ask.

“This doesn’t feel like something to plan.” She meets my eyes. “That scares me a little.”

“Me too.” As soon as my admission lands between us, I reach for her hand and thread my fingers through hers.

She watches our joined hands for a beat, then lifts her eyes to mine. “Do you want to come in?”

There’s a pause, long enough for me to consider what she’s asking, but I shake my head.

“Not tonight,” I say.

Surprise flickers across her face, or maybe it’s doubt. “Okay.”

“I want to do this right.”

She visibly relaxes. “Okay.”

I take a small step forward, my hand still in hers, and lean down.

This time, I don’t overthink it. Lowering my lips to hers, I kiss her slowly, exploring every inch of her mouth, as if we have all the time in the world.

Her hand rises to rest lightly against my chest, and she kisses me back with quiet certainty, making everything else disappear.

When we part, we don’t move right away. My forehead rests against hers, both of us breathing a little unevenly.

“Goodnight, Nina.”

“Goodnight, Travis.”