Hello, everyone! I hope your week has gone well. Mine has been super busy, what with school, work, and summer job interviews, but I still did my best to make time for writing. This chapter is the last of the introductory chapters; I hope to get the actual plot off and running in next week's installment, so stay tuned!
Enjoy, and don't forget to favorite/review!
Disclaimer: I do not own NCIS: Los Angeles
Paul immediately whirled on Deeks. "What the hell? You know her?"
Deeks sat down on one of the stools at the counter and refilled his coffee. "It's like she said: sort of. We met at that party last night. I offered her a drink that wasn't gross beer, and then she got held up by something and I didn't see her again." He looked at his friend apologetically. "I didn't think I'd ever see her again, much less here."
Paul sat down on a stool on his side of the counter, looking defeated. He put his head in his hands and mumbled, "Now that she's seen you, I might as well not exist."
Deeks groaned, "Come on, man. You have to stop thinking that way. There is no way that girl was going to hook up with me last night. Maybe you actually have a shot."
Paul shook his head. "I can't believe you didn't tell me you'd met a girl like that."
"Like I said, I didn't think I'd ever see her again."
Another surfer came up to the counter—a regular—and Paul stood up to make his coffee. All three men kept quiet, and the only sound was the whir of the coffee grinder and the rush of the waves coming in. The calls of seagulls punctuated the silence.
After the surfer had left with his coffee and a murmured 'thanks', Paul spoke again. "You really think I have a chance?" He asked hopefully.
Deeks nodded, knowing he was a good liar and hating himself for it. He'd take all the blame on himself if Paul got hurt pursuing this girl. Kensi.
"Yeah, but dude, you need to work on your conversational skills. That was the most awkward thing I've ever witnessed," Deeks said with a small grin, trying to break the tension between them.
Paul scratched the back of his head a laughed softly. "Yeah…it was, wasn't it? She just made me so nervous."
"Don't let her see you sweat," Deeks repeated his line from last night. Paul nodded, seemingly committing this motto to memory.
"That is if you ever see her again," Deeks added. He knew it wasn't encouraging, but part of him—the selfish part—really didn't want this girl slip through his fingers.
Paul waved this away, his confidence returning as the lights inside the shack turned off automatically as the sun finally cleared the mountains. "We go to the same school. I'll see her again."
Deeks only smiled in encouragement, hating himself even more.
Kensi parked on the street in front of her apartment building and got out of her car. The sun was blindingly bright and reflected across the water. Even as high up as she was—the apartment was built on one side of a slope of road, the other dropped steeply down to the water—the reflection hurt Kensi's eyes. God, it was hot. The car's thermometer had said it was nearly a hundred degrees, not entirely unusual for Southern California, but the humidity was making it so much worse. They'd be getting rain soon, Kensi thought, but the mountains were obviously keeping the clouds from moving in.
Kensi took the steps to her and Monica's apartment. She still had a third of her smoothie left and the condensation from the cool drink was making the plastic cup slick. She fumbled with her keys at the door and dropped the cup. The pink liquid splatted out of the cup as it hit the floor, spreading across the tile. Kensi sighed in exasperation. She forced the door open—it tended to stick on the frame—and dropped her keys in the bowl by the door on her way to the kitchen.
"Hey!" Monica called from her bathroom. "How was your workout?"
"Good," Kensi called back. "It's too hot outside." She grabbed some paper towel off the counter and headed back to the door.
Monica stuck her head out of the bathroom door. Half of her head was a mess of curls, and the other half looked like she'd attempted to straighten it, but had failed miserably. It was starting to crimp up again. "You're telling me. This humidity is ridiculous."
Kensi stifled a laugh at Monica's hair, earning a glare from the other girl. She pulled back into the bathroom and Kensi heard the spritz of a bottle, presumably Monica spraying more product into her hair. Kensi, having a similar hair texture, knew it wouldn't work.
She stepped out into the hall and knelt down, mopping up the mess of melted smoothie on the floor. She really did not have time for this. Her stop at the surf shack had cost her more time than she thought she had, and now she would be scrambling to shower and eat. Not a good way to start the first day of classes.
She did her best, but the floor would probably be sticky until maintenance cleaned it up. Kensi stood up and shook her head at the floor. She already knew it was going to be one of those days.
Kensi hurriedly threw away the paper towel and rushed into her bathroom. She turned on the shower and let it warm up while she peeled off her sweaty, sandy clothes. She shook her hair out of the ponytail and stepped in, the still-cool water making her shiver for a second as it hit her flushed skin.
Kensi showered and thought about how weirdly coincidental it had been that she'd run into that guy at the beach. Marty, and his shy friend Paul. If she told Monica about the encounter, she already knew the girl's response: "It's gotta be fate." Monica loved love stories. She was as pragmatic as Kensi, knowing that soul mates probably didn't exist and love at first sight was pretty much a myth. But she liked the idea of romance, and a chance meeting like this would send her through the roof, only half teasing in her sappy, romantic comedy quips.
Kensi laughed to herself, and for the second time today, thought about the significance that the day held. This time next year, she and Monica would probably be living in other places, working on different careers, only keeping in touch over emails, phone calls, and meetings over coffee. Kensi could already feel all of it slipping away, losing her best friend to the 'real life' that lay beyond college, and it saddened her.
It also terrified her. What would she do without Monica there to fill the silences or make her laugh when the memories started to creep in? Would she be able to cope?
No, Kensi thought as she shut off the water. Stop thinking about that. There's still a whole year to worry about that.
She dried off, or attempted to anyway. The humidity in the air almost seemed to cement the moisture from the shower onto Kensi's skin. She stood in front of the fan in her room and when she was as dry as she was going to get, Kensi threw on a pair of jean shorts and a loose tank top that she vaguely remembered borrowing from Monica quite a while back. Kensi liked it because it didn't cling to her every curve. Monica had bought it because it did, at least in the breast area, and then realized very quickly that it brought on the wrong kind of attention—the kind girls get from older professors and hormonal, perverted teenagers—so she had handed it off to Kensi, who, with a smaller chest, was not in danger of being objectified.
Once she was dressed, Kensi grabbed her backpack and headed out to the conjoined kitchen and living area. Monica had apparently given up on her hair. It was now teased into a high ponytail and she had weighed it down with enough product that the curls looked sleek and loose rather than frizzy. She looked put-together, as always.
Kensi laughed, though, when she realized Monica was also wearing something borrowed. This time, it was from Kensi's closet. It was a long tunic top. At least, on Kensi, it was. On Monica's shorter frame, it made a sort of dress, though she was wearing shorts underneath, the hems only just visible as she raised her arms to open a cupboard in the kitchen.
"What-," Monica started incredulously, but as she turned around, she laughed too. Still smiling, she said, "Hey, whatever works, right?"
Kensi set her backpack down and shrugged, "It looks better on you anyway."
"Likewise." The girls grinned at each other. "Hey, last first day," Monica said brightly, returning to making her coffee. She couldn't live without the stuff.
Kensi's smile faltered. "Yeah. I can't believe how quickly it's flown by."
Monica looked up, sadness tinging her expression. "I know. It's like yesterday we were at that stupid party on the beach and you nearly murdered me."
Kensi giggled. "You were asking for it. Good thing Jack didn't flirt back or I would have murdered both of you," she teased.
"What can I say? I was drunk and naïve. Not a good combination." Monica finished with her coffee and poured it into a travel mug, topping it off with creamer and sugar. "And you can thank me for testing him out. You got piece of mind and a best friend out of the deal." Her eyes widened and she covered her mouth with her hand when she saw Kensi's face, immediately realizing what she had said.
"Oh, my god, Kens, I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking."
Kensi tried to act nonchalant, waving off her friend's apologies and looking down to fiddle with her backpack to hide how she needed to take a few deep breaths. Piece of mind. "It's fine. I'm fine."
"You're obviously not fine, and I'm an asshole." Monica came around the counter to stand next to Kensi, who was still focused on the zipper on her backpack.
Kensi finally looked at her friend, trying to keep her breathing even and her emotion under control. "No, you're not. And I am fine. I just need a second, okay?"
"Oh, yeah, that's okay. Just, you know, I'm sorry. I really need to work on thinking before speaking." Monica stammered. She never stammered, never got nervous. And she rarely walked on eggshells around Kensi. Only with Jack. Everyone was nervous about bringing up Jack. At times, Kensi appreciated that they wanted to respect her feelings, but other times, she just wanted them to say what they were thinking.
Monica hovered nervously for a moment, fidgeting in a very un-Monica-like way, before heading back to the kitchen.
The words had hit Kensi in the chest, winding her. She had absolutely no piece of mind. She'd thought she did. Meeting Jack had been like a breath of air after years of drowning in her grief over her dad. She felt safe with him, and then he'd proposed, and everything felt right and like it was going to stay that way. Now, Kensi didn't believe in loyalty. Even Monica would be leaving her soon.
God, Kens, stop. It's only the first day.
Kensi took a deep breath and set her shoulders. Normally, she'd paste her brightest smile on, but Monica would see right through it. Instead, Kensi went around the counter and stood next to Monica, slotting two halves of a bagel into the toaster as she did.
Monica looked over at her. "Good?"
"Yeah."
"Good. When's your first class?" Monica was good at changing the subject, and knowing when to leave it alone. Psychology degrees did wonders. Or maybe that was just Monica.
Kensi looked at her watch. "Shit. I'm gonna be late."
She pushed the lever on the toaster up, popping out the not quite toasted bagel and hurriedly smothering peanut butter on it. She grabbed a paper towel and wrapped up the two halves of bagel, rushing around the counter to grab her bag.
"Need a ride?" she asked Monica.
Monica was already grabbing her bag and coffee.
They stopped for a second in the hallway so Monica could lock the door. Kensi backed out of her way and felt her sandal stick to the ground. She pulled it up and looked down at the pinkish stain on the tile, hoping maintenance would be in to clean it up before the end of the day; it was bound to attract ants.
"You ready?" Monica asked.
Kensi smiled and nodded, taking a deep breath to prepare herself for the last first day of life as she had known it.