Kavya places her hands at the small of her back and bends backward while exhaling. “Stretching,” she says, her voice wispy as the word escapes with the air in her lungs.

Dominic raises an eyebrow. “For what?”

“For chasing you the fuck out of my pool.” A mom gasps and covers her toddler’s ears, while a few of the SFGs holler, “That’s right!”

“Sure you are.” Dominic laughs, and I just don’t get how he could be so cold. He can laugh at a time like this?

Kavya gets in her swimmer’s stance like she’s waiting for the gun to signal the start of her heat at one of our swim meets. She cocks her head to the side to look at me. “Your breath back?”

“Yeah.”

“Can you hold down the fort for a bit?”

I nod.

“Great.” Kavya looks straight ahead, her eyes dead set on my suddenly ex-boyfriend. “Just say the word.”

I look at Dominic, his lingering smile sending chills through my soul. He thinks this is all a joke. He thinks my pain is a joke. Here I am, lying on the turf in front of too many interested club members, devastated after the real life rom-com of my dreams turns out to be some relationship box office bomb, and he thinks it’s all just a joke.

He can choke on a bag of dicks.

“Get him.”

Kavya takes off, the sound of her feet whipping through the turf mixing with the applause and cheers of “Get his ass!” from a couple of the poolside regulars.

Dominic’s eyes go wide. “What the hell?!” He books it, puffs of sand flying behind his feet when he launches over the fake-ivy-covered fence separating the club from the public Santa Monica beach.

“Oh, I’ll show you hell!” Kavya yells, sprinting after him.

So much for being the one in control, being the director to the rom-com of my life starring me and the guy I thought I’d be with forever. Instead, Dominic yelled “CUT!” and recast my role without ever consulting me about it.

Rom-coms fucking suck.

     Crest     

Trying to convince an Elder you don’t need a chaperone is like trying to pry open a great white’s jaws once it’s clamped down on a fresh kill: impossible.

“Look, Elder Kelp, I promise I can get there on my own.” My voice is positively soaked with sincerity. “Seriously. You’ve told me the way a thousand times. I just follow the North Pacific Current until I hit the Great Pacific Garbage Patch, hang a left, then swim until I get to the California coast. I got this. Los Angeles, here I come!”

Maybe my fake enthusiasm will finally get the old crustacean off my fin.