*Ray

Ray swiped the screen to see who had sent a message and what it said. Two more messages arrived. If it was her surfer boy...please let it be him!

Cryptic lines appeared in pastel bubbles, the soft, rounded font totally out of sync with the words.

In silence standing, blue above crashes into blue below

In wait drowning, water around me crashes into water within me

In hope asking, your steps to crash in the sand next to mine

Wow.

She sat back on her butt, staring at the screen and reading the lines again.

What did this mean?

Another message appeared, but in a different tone than the others.

If you want, meet me at Waikiki beach, Royal Hawaiian to surf, Saturday 6:30 am

Then as an afterthought, the writer sent his name in one lonely, last bubble. Zach.

She grabbed a pillow and screamed into it. He wanted to meet her to surf together. He was amazing. He was wonderful. He was hot and sweet and thoughtful and holy cow she had no idea what the rest of his message was supposed to mean.

Was it poetry?

It looked like poetry.

If it was poetry, what did it mean, though? And not just the words, but the fact that Zach (she had to repeat his name a couple of times) sent her a poem. Did he write it?

For her?

She sat stunned, mumbling the words. Poetry. It had to be.

She needed help. She flipped back to incoming calls and held her thumb over the green phone symbol.

But she couldn't call Beth about this. Ray couldn't bother her sister about this or anything in her life until the baby was safe and sound.

Ray stood up to pace, her go-to movement when worried. On the other hand, it wasn't Beth she needed, but her soon-to-be brother-in-law. She needed a man to weigh in on this situation. What did it mean in manspeakese to send a girl a poem to ask her on the first date?

She smacked her head. She didn't need Russell, either. The house was full of men—eight to be exact, although one wouldn't help her. Which was too bad, because Zach was Lokela's friend and if anyone could explain this poem to her it would be him.

Ask Mr. Scowlsalot? Right.

But that left plenty of others. That left seven if they were all home for a change. She would find out.

She hurried across the hall and knocked briskly. Either Travis or Hugh moaned and then mumbled a question. She could tell it was a question because the end of the sentence went up in pitch, not because she understood any of the words.

She turned the knob and opened the door a crack. The air was thick with man smell and unwashed socks. It was the consistency of cream of tomato soup, thick and well, soupy. The stale air poured from the room like the sulfer filled steam from volcano vents cutting deep into the blood and bones of the earth, but less romantic than that sounded.

Ray took a breath through her mouth.

"Hey, can I bug you guys? I have a problem," she whispered in case they said no and decided to go back to sleep. "I need masculine advice on a weird message I just got."

Travis rolled out of his bed. And he must have forgotten he was sleeping in the buff.

"My eyes!" she squeaked at the same time as he glanced down and shouted. She covered her face, glad the dark room hid most of his parts. Hugh started laughing and clambered out of his bed across the room and strolled over to flip on the light. In the meantime, Travis had managed to get the sheet around his waist.

"What's the problem? A stalker? Dick pics? Don't need any more of those in the world with Travis strutting his shit."

"Actually, it's more of poetry problem." Ray held the phone to his face. "What is this, in your opinion? Does it mean he really likes me?"

"Poetry problem?" barked a voice behind her in the hall.

Of course, Lokela would show up when she didn't want him around. And what was it with nearly nude males in this house?

He had a loose towel around his waist and it showed off much more than she should see considering she was a roommate and not dating him. Of course, she had just gotten an eye-full and then some of Travis, but it hadn't affected her the same way. Travis was goofy. Cute, but boyish and fun.

Lokela was...burning up the hallway. Ray tried to twist her hair one handed again, but it came undone and clung to her damp nape and arms. In desperation, she lifted her top to fan herself and averted her eyes.

That V line was not impressive. Nope. Nor was all that creamy dark skin.

"Show me the problem," Hugh said, hand out for the phone. "Besides the fact that there is no such thing as a poetry problem. Poetry is either poetry or crap masquerading as poetry."

Lokela shook his head. "How did you get to be some kind of expert on the subject? You play the guitar in the basement and study Athletics."

"Hobbies, Lokela and minor branches. They take you places. You should try it. Maybe you would relax instead of being a dickhead all the time." Hugh continued to stare at her screen while delivering this speech, Travis checking over his shoulder.

"So, if a guy sends that and then asks you to go surfing what does it mean?" Ray asked.

"We have some nice aesthetics going on. Parallelism in the lines and repetition of the opening word and verb crash."

He pointed and Ray nodded.

"But not identical rhythm or meter. It's a form of free verse for lack of a better term."

"Let me see," Lokela said. He took the phone, read it quickly and shrugged. "Dude wants to ask her out."

"Yes, but he's doing it with style. We assume the writer of the poem and speaker are the same, as in Zach," Hugh continued.

Ray nodded. "Isn't that always the case?"

"Not at all. Robert Browning wrote a poem from the point of view of a Duke who killed his last wife, in My Last Duchess. At least, I'm pretty sure it wasn't a confession."

"That's some kind of messed up poetry," Travis said, shocked.

"So it is a poem," Ray said. To clarify she pointed at her phone.

"Going out on a limb here since I haven't had my coffee and it's true I study Athletics, but yeah."

Travis nodded in agreement. "I took advanced English in high school. We analyzed shit like this all the time."

Hugh continued, pointing at the bubbles. "Beginning line, he uses the image of the sky crashing into the ocean, making the reader think about waves and the beauty of the beach. In silence standing, blue above crashes into blue below. Plus, we have the feeling he is alone. This is reinforced in the second line: In wait drowning, water around me crashes into water within me. Now the writer has taken some liberties, since you wouldn't normally use in wait without phrasing it as lying in wait. However, we have the strong sense of the ocean and waves with drowning, water, and crashes. The water is around him, aka the sea. Water is within him..." Hugh shook his head. "I got nothing."

"Tears? Emotions? Energy?" Travis suggested.

"So like, symbolic water?" Ray asked. "Or the water symbolizes something inside of him?"

"Yeah, we could go with that."

Lokela scoffed. He leaned against the wall with his shoulder touching it, and his arms crossed. It made his pecs and biceps pop, Ray realized. She fanned her shirt a few times.

Did men produce more body heat? Because she was dying in this house. Opposed to air-conditioning for ecological principles, she couldn't bear the thought of buying a window unit, but if she didn't cool off soon she would melt into a puddle.

"You guys and girl know that water is the symbol of life, right?" Lokela asked.

Ray scowled at him. "I know that the acidification of the ocean pH is going to cause more and more damage to the coral reefs among other ecosystems. But symbolism in poetic language is not my forte. All right?"

Travis snorted into his sheet.

"And on that note, the last line: In hope asking, your steps to crash in the sand next to mine. The writer maintains his loose form and we finally know what this is all about. It's an invitation and he leaves us with the lovely image of two people walking together, their steps hitting the sand like the waves of the ocean. All in all, quite nice. He really wants to surf with you, Ray." Hugh said. A tiny sigh escaped his lips.

"You are really reading too much into it," Lokela said. "He likes to surf and he wants you to go."

"You're his friend," Ray said. "If he just wanted to invite me to the beach, why did he write a poem? What does it mean?"

"Probably to get your attention. I wouldn't expect any other poems, though. That's not his usual style."

"And what's his usual style?" she asked.

"His usual style when it comes to girls? I can't say. It's goes counter to the bro handbook." Lokela pushed free from the wall and squeezed past her in the tight hallway. His bare chest rubbed her arm and she sucked in her breath, drawing away. The spots on her arm felt hot as coals and a prickling went through her chest.

Then he was gone. In the bathroom to take a shower.

Travis and Hugh shook their heads at her.

"What goes counter the bro handbook? I didn't even know that was a thing."

"Then what he isn't telling you is that this Zach guy is probably a love 'em and leave 'em kind of guy. You want us to accidently show up at the beach that morning?" Travis asked. He flexed an arm for her in a show of pretend toughness.

She laughed. "No. Well. Maybe. Maybe yes. I'll let you know. Thanks, Hugh

Ray ducked into her room, but before she shut the door, Travis called out. "You know we've got your back, cousin! Your sister's boyfriend said he would hunt us down if anything happened to you. We are all family in this house."

"Thanks, guys. I needed some family this morning. And I can't go into details, but I'm going to be nervous for my sister for the next few months. If I get moody or difficult, don't judge too harshly, yeah?"

Hugh and Travis pulled her into a group hug like it was a choreographed move. "Don't worry, Ray. We've got you."

***Lokela

Lokela shut the door and locked it behind him as fast as he could. "Zach can have her. He can have her if he wants. Dammit. I am fine with this. "

He ran the shower, cold. Nice and cold to cut through the useless noise in his head. Cold enough to numb his skin where he had accidently touched her in the hallway.

She would be Zach's and that was the end of the story.

*** So...Lokela has some mixed emotions? The poster is a vintage image of Waikiki Beach, and one of my favorites! ***