Cover

Title Page

Dedication

To Mom and Dad and Mom, for always letting me pretend to be a mermaid

     Sean     

There are a surprising number of similarities between being a lifeguard and being a movie director. Both sit in a labeled chair to watch everything in their surroundings, their eyes squint just as hard thanks to glaring sun or glaring studio lights, and yelling “CUT THAT OUT!” to kids splashing day-drinking moms isn’t all that different from yelling “CUT!” to actors.

Sitting up here in the lifeguard stand makes me feel in control, like I can direct the movie of my life and everyone in it. Which is why when Dominic comes padding across the faux grass around the pool of the Santa Monica Beach Club—his favorite gold Havaianas in hand so he can feel the turf between his toes—my brain switches right into director mode. I mentally frame the establishing shot of the club, the pool busy with families during the only kid-friendly block on Sunday mornings, servers zooming in and out of lounge chairs and cabanas with brunch offerings for members who’ve just walked in from the beach after dipping their feet in the Pacific. Then my mind camera goes in for a close-up on Dominic, his black hair tousled perfectly, his green eyes locking with mine, his lips breaking into a grin that says so much: happy to see me, wanting to kiss me, eager to relive what we did a couple nights ago after my mom went to bed and we stayed up to “watch rom-coms” and “study their structure.”

Only, that’s not what happens. I do the close-up on my boyfriend, but he won’t meet my gaze. Dominic’s eyes are permanently focused on the ground, a deep scowl furrowed into his pale white forehead as he mumbles something to himself. I’m too far away to know what it is, but it seems like he’s practicing something. He looks like the kids in the drama department, whispering lines to make sure they have them right. And based on the way he looks like he could throw up at any second, whatever Dominic’s lines are can’t be good.

I want to scream “Cut!” like when I’m directing my romance shorts for film class. I want to direct that frown, that nervous mumbling, away from Dominic’s face. Or maybe jump into the ocean with him like we do every weekend and have the salty water wipe his concern away before I pull him into a kiss while the waves surge past our waists.