CHAPTER THREE

"THE DOOR INTO SUMMER"

Juliana and Stacy stood at the base of the USC Arts Building, the sprawling campus alive with the energy of mid-afternoon. Juliana adjusted the strap of her backpack, her nerves sparking with anticipation—not from her usual photography assignments, but from the prospect of the day ahead.

The sudden roar of an engine broke through the hum of campus chatter. Juliana turned just in time to see a beat-up Woody station wagon skid to a halt at the curb, its wooden panels gleaming despite the wear. Davy leaned out of the driver's side window, his grin impossibly wide, and called out, "Hop in, ladies! The waves won't wait forever!"

Stacy clapped her hands, laughing as if this were the most natural thing in the world. "You've gotta love Davy," she said, giving Juliana a playful nudge. "Come on, Julie. You didn't move all the way to California to miss this!"

Stacy and Juliana exchanged a quick, silent glance. Stacy was the first to laugh, nudging Juliana playfully. "This is gonna be so much fun," she said, her voice filled with an excited note that made Juliana feel as if she were standing on the edge of something big.

Juliana had only been in California for a few weeks after the move from New York, but it already felt like she was living in a dream. The warm air, the endless beaches, and of course, the group of friends she'd stumbled into—each one as vibrant and unique as the next. Davy, the infectious optimist; Micky, the class clown whose wit could cut through anything; Peter, the kind, soulful presence that always seemed to know exactly what to say; and then, there was Michael.

Michael Nesmith.

Tall, cool, with a quiet intensity that both intrigued and captivated Juliana from the moment they'd met. He wasn't loud like Micky, or always bubbling with energy like Davy. He was something different—an enigma wrapped in mystery with that perfect blend of Texan drawl and rock-star cool. His guitar was an extension of his soul, and when he played, Juliana swore he could pull the entire world into his orbit. It was that calm intensity that had drawn her in from the moment they'd met. She didn't know how to get his attention, though—he had a way of being present without ever really being there, and it was that subtle pull that left her curious and a little unsure of how to connect.

But today? Today wasn't about Michael. Today was about surfing.

Juliana slid into the back seat next to Micky, who had already been picked up from the Architecture building where he had a class. He was bouncing in place, grinning at her as though he'd been waiting all day for this.

"So, who's ready to eat some sand?" Micky asked, his grin as mischievous as ever.

Juliana raised an eyebrow. "Is that a warning or a promise?"

"Both," Micky shot back. "But don't worry, I'll give you some pointers. First rule of surfing? Look cool, even when you're wiping out."

"Sounds easy enough," Juliana said, laughing.

Davy twisted around in his seat, his British accent cutting through the din. "Ignore 'im. The first rule of surfing is not to drown. Everything else is optional."

Stacy rolled her eyes. "You're really selling it, guys."

"So, you're gonna teach me, right?" Juliana asked, trying to mask the nervous flutter in her stomach.

Micky gave a mock salute. "Of course! You're gonna be riding the waves like a pro before you know it," he said, his voice rich with confidence.

Juliana laughed nervously, her fingers fiddling with the straps of her backpack. She'd never surfed before. In fact, the idea of throwing herself into the ocean had both terrified and exhilarated her. But this was California—this was what she'd dreamed about for years. The waves, the freedom, the sun kissing her skin. It was all part of the adventure she had longed for.

The Woody jolted forward, the engine roaring to life as they made their way toward the beach. Juliana couldn't help but laugh at how different everything felt here compared to New York. In the city, life never slowed down. But here? Everything was open. Free. Unscripted.

As the car rumbled down the road, Juliana and Micky fell into an easy conversation. He was full of energy, always teasing her with his witty remarks, but Juliana found herself opening up in a way she hadn't expected. She told him about her family—her father's unpredictable work schedule, which meant she was constantly moving around, always a little out of sync with the world. She talked about her older brother, Tony, who was studying to be a doctor here in California but still kept a drum set in his room. "He's torn between saving lives and making music," Juliana explained, a soft smile tugging at her lips.

"And Tina," she continued, her voice softening. "She's in Japan with her family. Her husband's in the Navy. They've got a little girl,Tracy who's nearly four now, so... I guess that makes me an aunt."

Micky nodded with a grin, clearly moved by the way Juliana spoke of her family, even from afar. "I've got three younger sisters. They drive me insane, but I'd do anything for them. You know how it is."

Juliana chuckled, the sound more genuine than she'd expected. "Oh, I can imagine. I'm the baby of the family, so I definitely get away with a lot," she added with a playful wink. "I like to think it's because I'm just that charming."

Micky raised an eyebrow in mock disbelief. "Charming, huh? I think I see where this is going."

Juliana shrugged, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "Well, my mom always says I was born singing. I've been working since I was one. I started piano when I was five, and now I'm trying to get the hang of guitar. But it's a bit of a struggle."

Micky's eyes lit up at that. "Piano? That's awesome! And you sing, too?"

Juliana laughed, a little self-conscious but amused. "Yeah, I guess it's in my blood. Mom says I never stopped singing from the moment I could talk."

"I like it!" Micky said, nodding with approval. "You've got to come jam with us sometime. Guitar, Bass, drums, percussion and piano. Yeah, it will be a blast." He stroked his chin in thought, " Hmmm, we have to get the right song….."

Micky continued, "You know, Mike"—he paused as if choosing his words carefully—"he's the one who writes most of the songs. And he's an incredible guitar player. He's got this... this way with words that just blows me away."

Juliana's curiosity piqued. "Sounds like a talent to be reckoned with."

Micky's grin softened, the admiration clear in his voice. "You have no idea. Mike has this way of tapping into something... deeper, you know? It's like he channels the universe when he plays. It's... magic."

Juliana felt a small knot tighten in her chest. There was something magnetic about Michael she couldn't quite define. It wasn't just the way he played guitar—though, that was mesmerizing. It was something more. The way he seemed lost in the music, as if he were more than just a guy playing a song.

Just as they reached the beach, the car slowed and Juliana's gaze instinctively sought out the familiar figure standing near the sand. Michael. His tall form was outlined against the fading light of the late afternoon, his gaze lost in the crashing waves as though the world didn't exist outside of that moment.

"There he is," Juliana murmured.

Micky followed her gaze, his voice quieter now, tinged with something like reverence. "Yeah. Mike. He's always like that before we play. The ocean's got a way of making him... think. You'll see."

Juliana nodded, her heart picking up its pace. "He's always like that?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Micky grinned, but there was something almost wistful in his smile. "Yeah. He gets lost in the waves. But when he plays... It's like the world stops for him. It's all about the music. He taps into something bigger than himself."

Juliana's chest tightened at the thought. She understood that feeling all too well—the way music could pull you into another world, where nothing mattered except the sound, the rhythm, the flow. It was that moment of connection that she craved, and maybe, just maybe, it was what she felt whenever Michael played. And it was hard to ignore the pull she felt toward him, even as she sat there chatting with Micky.