Shortly after they finished their meal at Mariscos Enseneda, Max helped Nina pick out a suitable beginner's board at a local surf shop. He chose a wider, longer one that would provide more stability and balance. Nina insisted on paying for the rental, but Max brushed her card aside and, instead, convinced her to buy him lunch next time as her payment. He was determined to start hanging out with Nina on a regular basis.

Max and Nina headed toward the beach. Together, they trudged barefoot across the coarse brown sand. Nina held onto their flip-flops while Max carried both boards beneath his arms. He stopped about thirty feet away from where the surf met the turf. He set down their boards on the sand to strip off his muscle tee.

Several bikini-clad females around them took notice. They raked admiring gazes across his tall, chiseled form, his broad, bronzed shoulders, his sculpted biceps, his hard pecs, his well-defined six-pack...

Max knew he looked good. He had started working out again over the past couple of weeks. Max winked at his admirers, and they tittered in delight.

Max hoped that Nina was checking him out as well. He stole a peek at her and sucked in a breath. Nina had already taken off her top and was now shimmying out of her denim shorts. She wore a plain white one-piece bathing suit. It was backless with a high-neck halter. The stretchy fabric hugged her sweet, sexy figure in all the right places. The front was fairly modest, but the back showed off her bare skin and dipped enticingly close to the curves of her ass.

As though she had sensed his eyes on her, Nina glanced up and gave him a once-over, too. She raised her eyebrows in appreciation. "Nice."

Max felt a slow heat creep up his neck. He blushed. "Thanks."

They started practicing by laying Nina's board flat on the sand. Max showed her the standard pop-up stance for a good thirty minutes before they even paddled out to the waves. Nina, as expected, was a disaster. She spent more time off the board than on it and ended up inhaling gallons of ocean water through her mouth and nostrils in large salty gulps.

Max had to give it to her, though, the girl didn't give up easily.

They continued to surf for the rest of the afternoon. By the third hour, Nina managed to stay upright on her board for almost twenty seconds before slipping and sliding off her board into the tide. Her knees and shoulders and elbows were all scratched up from the rocky ocean floor, but her smile never waned. She looked like she was having the time of her life, and her unrestrained exuberance rubbed off on Max. He didn't want the day to end.

They left the beach close to 5:00 pm and arrived back at their apartment complex thirty minutes later.

As Max parked his truck in the structure, Nina turned to him with an expression of pure contentment. "Today was absolutely amazing, Max. Thank you so much. I had a blast."

His heart swelled as he smiled back at her. "Yeah? Glad to hear it. We can go again whenever you want."

They started heading up to the third floor. One of the abrasions on Nina's knee started bleeding. The blood trailed down her shins in thin red rivulets. She glanced down. "Ah, damn it."

Max's brow creased with concern. "Hey, I have a first aid kit at home. Did you wanna stop by my place really quick? I can help you clean that up."

"Oh, um... yeah, actually, that's not a bad idea. Thanks."

Max and Nina stepped out into the hallway once the elevator doors opened to their floor. Nina followed Max to his apartment. He unlocked the door. They went inside.

Compared to the vacant nothingness of Nina's apartment, Max's studio was quite the opposite. The entire space was cluttered as fuck. Like a teenage boy's fantasy that had exploded into a full-fledged man cave. There were a few dirty dishes by the sink and socks on the floor, but overall the place was surprisingly neat and tidy.

Fight Club and Eva Green and Zombieland and Call of Duty and Tupac posters were plastered all over the walls alongside silver and gold YouTube plaques. All of the furniture was coordinated in various shades of grays and blacks with leather and metal accents. A queen-sized bed sat in the center of the studio, directly facing a large 86-inch flatscreen TV. A black leather couch flanked the wall on the far side of the studio.

Max told Nina to wait on the couch while he went to retrieve his first aid kit from the bathroom. He reappeared a few minutes later with the box in hand. She took it from him and started cleaning and bandaging her wounds before he could offer his help. Once Nina finished up, she put the rubbing alcohol and band-aids back inside the first aid kit, thanked him again, and handed it to Max.

As Nina rose to leave, Max suddenly called out, "Hey! So... my friends are throwing a barbecue next weekend. I was wondering... would you be interested in going with me?"

"Next weekend?"

"Yeah."

She pursed her lips. "Wouldn't you have more fun without me tagging along? Your friends don't know me, and I don't know them."

"Well, that's the thing," Max mumbled, "I haven't seen any of them since Lexi's video came out. I really don't wanna show up by myself..."

"Oh, gotcha!" Nina's eyes widened with understanding. She smiled. "Okay, I mean, if you're only asking me to be there for moral support, then count me in. I got your back, boo."

"Sweet," Max murmured happily. "Thanks, Nina."

"It's the least I can do after everything you've done for me," she said in easygoing tones. "Happy to do it!"

Max walked her over to the entryway. They said their goodbyes, and, with a click of the door, she headed back to her apartment across the hall.

That night, Max decided to call his mom for the first time in months. It freaked her out. His mom started jumping to a bunch of worst-case scenario conclusions. She automatically assumed that he had gotten into an accident for being a dumbass, arrested for being a dumbass, or worse, impregnated a girl for being a dumbass. It took Max almost ten minutes with his stunted Spanglish to calm her down and convince her that he was only calling to check-in. By the time they hung up, Max's temples were throbbing, talking to his mom always stressed him out, but he felt good about having done it.

Max knew a fifteen-minute phone call wasn't much, but it felt like a start.