“But these are organic,” he said. “Let’s go over it once more.” He held up the rectangular Hot Pocket. “Unwrap this.” He tapped the microwave. “Open this.” He mimed punching the numbers. “Set it.” He narrowed his eyes. “And don’t forget it. But if you do . . .” He wiggled his phone. “Have the fire department on speed dial.”

“Isn’t that just 911?”

He cocked his head.

“For emergencies, don’t you just call 911?”

He stared at her, raised a hand to each side of his head, and made a pfft sound. “Mind blown, Illinois. Mind blown.” He slung a backpack over one shoulder and said, “Now go forth and feed.”

Delia bit her bottom lip. She managed to contain herself until he was halfway across the room before she burst out laughing.

“Where am I?” she said to herself.

“Been asking myself the same thing,” came a voice from behind her.

Delia turned to see a guy, tall and fit, with tanned white skin and light brown hair, buzzed on the sides, long and soft on top, smiling at her.

Immediately a warmth spread under her skin, and she knew she was glowing pink.

“That’s the second dude in a wetsuit I’ve seen since I got here.”

“Strange,” Delia said.

“You want strange? Had two girls come by drinking pea milk lattes.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“That’s what I said.”

Delia knew she was now bright red, but she had to ask. “I really hope you mean the vegetable. . . .”

“Yup. Milk made from peas—the little green ones I realized my grandma would stop serving if they ended up in my nose more often than my mouth.” He grinned. “And I thought Denver had its quirks. I’m starting to think I’m in for a bizarre summer.”

“You’re from Denver?” Was everyone from somewhere cool? And cool was probably not even the right adjective. Hip? Rad? Delia was going to have to study Urban Dictionary.

“Born and fed,” he joked. “That guy . . . let’s just say I’m glad you took over his shift. He was practicing surf stances for an hour before you got here.”

“And the ocean is . . .”

“Not close. I double-checked. You know what he said?” The guy stepped out from behind the counter of his kiosk and jumped, ending in a squat with his hands straight out to each side. He lowered his voice and spoke slowly, “When the waves call, it doesn’t matter how far, I’ll hear them, and I’ll heed them, bro.”

Delia giggled. Ugh. Laugh, don’t giggle, Delia.

He reclaimed his full height and hopped up onto the counter behind him. “I’m Eric Shaw.”

“Delia Meyer.”

“Lemme guess, ValleyStart?”

Delia looked down at her plain jeans and long-sleeved tee. “Coder. Am I that obvious?”

“Sure, but only because of that.” Eric tipped his clean-shaven chin to her backpack. Her ValleyStart ID card and room key dangled off a carabiner on the side.