Chapter Text
Everything about the place was hot. Sand, water, air. The little metal buckle on Christen's beach bag had turned into a branding iron and the bottoms of her feet were being scorched through her flip-flops. Sand sprayed up the backs of her legs as she hurried stiltedly along the beach, head tucked low, phone pressed to her ear and gradually heating like an iron in the fire.
"Just come back, Christen." Crystal implored. Again, for maybe the twelfth time. She sounded absolutely exhausted.
Christen plowed right through the sand.
"I'm done with it, Crystal. With Chicago, New York, and soccer, at least for a couple months. I want-"
"That's fine!" Crystal's voice grew in pitch. She laughed a bit helplessly. "You can have a break, Christen, that's great! But you can't just drop off the map without letting anybody know!"
Christen huffed and squinted through her sunglasses, looking for somewhere to drop all of her stuff. She might need to take a detour to the water before her feet burned off.
"You didn't even tell your agent or coach. Or your friends, Christen. You didn't tell us."
"I'm telling you now, right?" Christen reasoned, annoyed. She trudged through the sand and noted that the beach was less populated the further she went. "I need a break, Crystal, so I'm taking a break. Right now."
Right now actually meant in the middle of the night last week, when Christen had woken up on the floor next to her bed at three a.m. after making probably the worst mistake of her life, hit with the epiphany that she needed to get out of the city.
Maybe if she extracted herself from the situation, it would disappear nicely.
So she booked a flight. For somewhere with no traffic or gray skies, no alarms or match times, no magazines, interviews, exes, expectations, or prying, jaded eyes.
Crystal sighed. She was quiet for a moment. "Where exactly did you say you are?"
"Jupiter." Christen replied evenly.
Another planet. Where the sand scorched her feet, the sun was blinding, and the humidity made her straightened hari turn to its natural form.
"Jupiter." Crystal sounded unamused. "You've been in Florida for three days?"
"I didn't particularly want to leave the country." Christen reasoned. "I needed out of New York and Chicago, and I wasn't going home, so…I thought I would appreciate the beaches."
"The beaches."
Christen shrugged her bag higher on her shoulder and breathed heavily. "Are you just going to repeat everything I say?"
"Christen Press…" Crystal laughed, resigned. "I love you. I don't understand why you're doing this, why you're in Florida , but-"
"Why do you keep accenting Florida like that?" Christen broke in, mildly offended on the state's behalf.
"But, I'm here if you want to talk, okay?" Crystal assured, ignoring her interruption. "I'll-maybe I can fend off your agent, but not for long. I just-I'm worried you're throwing something away. You didn't tell anybody, Chris."
"It was spontaneous." Christen said quietly.
Crystal hummed. Christen was not known for being impulsive.
"I'm alright. I love you too." Christen assured.
"Be careful. Keep me updated. Take pictures and have some…oranges or something."
Christen chuckled. Her phone was a searing block of metal by the time she dropped it back into her bag. She glanced around at her surroundings-water to her right, small sand dunes and condos to her left-satisfied with the lesser number of people.
There were families, surfers, couples- but not unruly, heedless crowds jockeying for position.
Christen nodded to herself, turned to walk closer to the water, and promptly tripped over something hard and dropped all of her belongings. She landed ungracefully on her knees in the sand and her sunglasses slipped forward off her nose.
It was fiberglass, a surfboard. The tail of a shortboard, actually, and Christen immediately clambered to her feet, huffing and puffing and brushing the sand from her knees. She scooped up her bag and caught the owner of the board out of the corner of her eye.
"You know, you should move your surfboard." Christen suggested shortly, annoyed, mostly because she was now delayed and her feet were burning in the sand. And nobody was leaping up to help her.
The owner of the board sat next to it, wearing faded red lifeguard shorts and a white t-shirt. Aviators hid her eyes. When Christen finally focused on her, she noticed sunny brunette hair and a slightly amused smile.
"It's clear that people are walking here." Christen blustered, not having anticipated such a face.
"You should move it out of traffic."
The woman's smile never faltered. "There's a whole beach they can use."
Her voice was low and clear and light, and Christen was surprised again.
"Well…yes, but…" Christen rubbed her foot where she'd caught the surfboard and pouted a little bit.
"I think you're alright." The woman mused.
Christen narrowed her eyes. She wished she could see behind those sunglasses, see whose eyes owned that smile. She huffed and shook her head and stalked away muttering "inconsiderate bitch" because she hadn't come to Florida to argue with beautiful, belligerent surfers.
Tobin chuckled at the name.
Tobin had seen her coming from a hundred yards away. Shuffling quickly and clumsily through the sand in her pretty little sundress and pink flip-flops and oversized sunglasses. Dark hair, long bronze legs, lithe body.
Tobin leaned back with her palms in the sand and watched the woman dump all her stuff near the water. She bit her cheek when the woman kicked off her flip-flops, fidgeted in place for a second, and then bounced quickly over to the wet, cool sand.
But then she pulled the white sundress over her head, revealing a dark blue bikini, and the air seemed to stick in Tobin's throat. She coughed discreetly and watched with interest, an amused smile still playing on her lips.
The waves were flat today, which is why Tobin was lounging in the sand instead of paddling out. The dark-haired woman with beautiful legs still seemed wary of the choppy whitewater rolling up the shore. She carefully moved out into the water, picking her feet up high with every step and jumping back when she was splashed.
Tobin bit her lip and tilted her head.
Christen enjoyed the cool water. She walked out until it was waist high, and then quickly ducked her head under the surface. She emerged and slicked back her hair and coughed a little bit, and she scanned the area for predators -big dorsal fins mostly- before relaxing and floating in the water.
The only thing she noticed was the brunette with the surfboard, who looked like she hadn't moved an inch.
She was probably high or something. That's what surfers did, right? Christen let herself float around for ten minutes, doggy-paddling absently when she felt herself drift too far.
She was standing up and observing other people in the water when she was hit with an intense, sharp, stinging pain along her right leg. She gasped and jumped in shock, moving instinctively backwards, but the burning only moved to the back of her leg.
Christen's heart hammered wildly. It was like her limb had caught fire. Some kind of exotic shark?
She stood absolutely still, trying not to panic and pressing her nails into her palm because it hurt, and she finally spotted the small blue-tinged, air-filled sac floating behind her.
Christen assumed it was a jellyfish. She surged forward, a little light-headed now, and when she left the water she surged straight up the sand to the brunette with the faded lifeguard shorts.
They seemed authentic enough.
"Hi, Miss? I think I'm-I need help, or-or direction, please." Christen babbled breathlessly, looming and dripping over the brunette woman. She dug her fingers into her thigh.
Tobin surveyed her calmly, still leaning back in the sand. She plucked off her sunglasses and set them on her board. Christen was struck by sparkling, knowing brown eyes.
"What makes you think I can help?" Tobin raised an eyebrow.
Christen pointed desperately at her shorts. "You're-you're a lifeguard, right?"
"No, actually."
"Look, I'm sorry I called you an inconsiderate bitch, but there's no need to lie. I need-"
"I'm not a lifeguard." Tobin said slowly, emphatically. She looked up into pained green eyes.
"These aren't mine."
Christen was confused and not in the mood for this. She felt ready to tip over. "You're wearing somebody else's shorts?"
The brunette woman hummed.
Christen stared for a second, unsure of what to do, but her eyes were watering from the pain now and her head was getting dizzier, so she spun unsteadily to find somebody who could actually help her. She was a few feet away when she felt a hand on her arm.
"What's your name?" Tobin wondered, not unkindly, guiding her back towards the water.
"What are you- Christen. I'm Christen."
Tobin smiled slightly. "Well, Christen, you've been stung by a man 'o war. It's like a jellyfish."
And it had left angry, red welts in long lines, wrapping around her leg from mid-thigh to her knee. They burned and stung and shot pain up to her head.
"I…have?" Christen frowned and let this woman lead her to wherever she needed to be. Her cool hands felt nice on Christen's hot skin. "So, do we need to- to urinate on it?"
Christen loudly whispered the word and Tobin's lips quirked in amusement.
"Or find some vinegar? Where are you taking me and how do you know what to do if you're not a lifeguard?"
Tobin shook her head and stopped Christen when they were calf-deep in the water. "Salt water and then hot water. Vinegar makes everything worse with man 'o war stings."
It could also provoke hemorrhaging, but Christen seemed like the type to panic if she was provided with that kind of information. Tobin would see what was happening and then decide if Christen needed emergency assistance.
"What's your name?" Christen asked, noticing that her own voice had grown in pitch as the pain increased. She fidgeted and watched this brunette stranger douse her leg with salt water.
"Just hold still, Christen."
Christen dug her toes into the sand. "What's your name?"
Tobin sighed. She was a persistent little thing. "Call me Tobin."
"But is that your name?"
"Sure."
Christen narrowed her eyes.
Tobin straightened up and rested a hand on Christen's forearm and watched her seriously. "Do you have any allergies, Christen? Any trouble breathing? Feel like you might faint?"
Droplets rolled down from Christen's hairline as she shook her head slowly.
Tobin lifted an eyebrow. "Are you sure?"
"Positive." Christen clipped.
Tobin noticed she was shaking slightly, and decided that they needed hot water sooner rather than later. It would denature the toxins and take away some of Christen's pain.
"Can you walk?" she asked, voice gentler now. "Just…less than a mile?"
Christen hummed vaguely. She didn't really know. All she could focus on was the burning in her leg.
"Yes or no, Christen."
She shifted her gaze to concerned green eyes. "I-yes. I can walk. Tobin."
Tobin searched her face for a moment. She nodded and wrapped a strong arm around Christen's shoulders, and then led her quickly back up the beach. She tucked her shortboard under her arm and guided Christen towards the beach access path.
"What-what about my stuff?" Christen questioned, twisting to see where she'd dropped her bag.
"Did you bring anything valuable?"
Tobin knew the answer already. Of course that overstuffed bag would be filled with valuable goodies-phone, iPod, Kindle. Christen seemed like the type.
"Well, yeah." Christen answered.
Tobin sighed and stopped walking. "Okay, stay here."
Christen watched her jog back to where she'd left her belongings. Tobin moved lightly over the sand, hair shining, board tucked easily under her arm. She stuffed Christen's towel and flip flops haphazardly into the bag, slung it over her shoulder, and then jogged back to where she'd left Christen.
Christen realized that Tobin didn't have any shoes. Not even a towel. All she'd had was her surfboard.
"You probably got sand over everything." Christen complained-brow furrowed-when Tobin returned.
Tobin scoffed. "Inconsiderate bitch, right?" she muttered and seized Christen's forearm to guide her up the beach access path.
Christen winced. "No, that's-sorry. I'm sorry."
Tobin shrugged easily.
"Where are you taking me?" Christen wondered, now wary that maybe she shouldn't be following a complete stranger around. Tobin was calm and confident, and it was comforting, but she could also be psychotic.
"Hot water."
Christen side-eyed her as they walked down the path between a condo complex and a parking lot. "Where's the hot water?"
"This way." Tobin bit her cheek. She'd just met Christen and she already enjoyed riling her up.
Christen balked as they hit the road that ran parallel to the beach. "Look, I'm sure you just want to help, but I'm not getting into a car with you."
Tobin rolled her eyes and turned them down the sidewalk. She noticed Christen's face was growing redder and her walk slower. She put an arm around the woman's shoulders.
"I'm not putting you in a car."
"Then where are we-"
"Right here." Tobin interrupted, striding purposefully into a gravel parking lot.
Christen looked around. There was a restaurant in front of her. Bright blue wooden slats with white borders, some kind of beach café. Connected to that was a slightly taller, dark wooden-slatted building with a bright yellow face and trim. There was a small sign that read Jupiter Surf, a bench out front, several surfboards leaning against the wall, and a rack of drying wetsuits.
Tobin led them around the side of the building and through a squeaky yellow door into the back of the surf shop. She propped her board up next to a faded green couch and watched Christen take in her surroundings.
It smelled like salt, seawater. Maybe rubber from wetsuits. The walls were green and fading fast and the room was small and airy. There were a couple comfortable chairs around the couch, board wax and playing cards on the coffee table, fridge and microwave in the corner.
There was sand in every crevice.
"Do you-are we allowed to be in here?" Christen whispered.
Tobin chuckled. "I'm pretty sure, yeah."
Christen limped a bit further into the room, and Tobin took her hand and pulled her through another doorway. They walked down a short hallway, through a bathroom, and ended at an outdoor shower.
Tobin fiddled with the water temperature while Christen put her hands on her knees and breathed deeply.
"That's…useful, I guess. Having a shower here." Christen mused, watching the water run down the drain.
Tobin directed the stream away from Christen while it heated. "We're a surf shop. Of course we have a shower."
"We? So this- this is yours? You own this place?"
How had Tobin known that Christen would latch onto that? She smiled and shrugged. "Little bit."
Christen scoffed. "Little bit. What does that even mean?"
"It means get over here and stand under the hot water before I send you back to the beach."
Christen opened her mouth to argue, but the pain was reaching critical levels and she thought she might actually be sick, so she shuffled over obediently. Tobin took her shoulders and turned her gently until the hot water sprayed directly onto the affected area. She ran her fingers lightly down Christen's thigh, feeling for welts, and Christen shivered at the cool touch.
Tobin straightened up and met Christen's gaze.
"Now just stand here for twenty minutes, okay? The pain should start to subside." Tobin turned to walk away, biting her tongue when Christen sputtered behind her.
"What-how-where are you going? Are you leaving me here? By myself?"
"Yes?" Tobin raised an eyebrow.
Christen pouted. "Well, when-how will I know when it's been twenty minutes? I don't have a watch."
"Use the sun." Tobin suggested sagely.
Christen stared at her, trying to figure out if she was joking.
Tobin finally smirked. "I'm just going to get you something to wear. Simmer down, Christen Press."
Christen watched Tobin walk away, mouth hanging open. "I never told you my last name!" she called, but Tobin was already through the door.
Maybe she'd finally recognized Christen. Maybe she'd known her all along. A-list athlete, olympian, US Women’s National Soccer Team’s striker, Christen Annemarie Press. At least it didn't seem to impact Tobin's treatment of her.
She was probably sarcastic and frustratingly vague with everybody.
Christen stood under the hot water and sighed repeatedly, glad that the pain seemed to be fading. The sting marks became more distinct, until they looked like a violent red web. Like a net that Christen had wrapped from her thigh to her calf.
She breathed deeply and pressed her palms into her eyes. She could feel a headache coming. She stood by herself under the hot spray for at least ten minutes.
"Are you alright?" Tobin asked, concerned. She leaned against the doorway and studied Christen carefully.
Christen smiled wryly. "That took longer than you said."
"I called the lifeguard tower. They're red-flagging the beach for man 'o war."
"I don't know what that means."
Tobin stepped forward and switched off the water. She held clothes in one hand and examined Christen's welts with the other.
"It means no swimming, Miss Press. Dangerous waters."
"Oh." Christen's voice was small.
"Do you feel alright?" Tobin queried, tracing her eyes over Christen's thigh. Very thoroughly. She tried to ignore the soaked, navy blue bikini bottoms. "Do you need a hospital? Or will you be okay if you just lie down? I have cream to put on it, and Benadryl."
Christen smiled at the flush on Tobin's cheeks. "I asked you before, how do you know all this if you're not a lifeguard?"
"Who says I'm not a lifeguard?"
Christen frowned. "You did?"
"Did I?" Tobin feigned confusion, thoroughly amused with this new person. "Christen, tell me, do you need a hospital or not?"
"Hey, Harry." A messy head of long blonde hair poked around the doorway, an easy grin directed at Tobin's back.
"How's the waves?"
"Flat and crap." Tobin answered without turning around. She handed Christen a towel and some clothes.
The girl caught sight of Christen and her eyes brightened. She stepped fully around the doorway and waved hello. "Have you kidnapped another one?" She directed at the back of Tobin's head. "Tobs, you gotta stop dragging pretty girls home."
"Shut it, Harry."
Christen fidgeted, uncomfortable in her bikini now. Tobin noticed and stepped in front of her, and then turned around.
"Allie, get lost." She flicked water at her and she opened her mouth as if to catch it.
"Wait, you have to introduce me." She implored.
Tobin heaved an annoyed sigh. She advanced on Allie until she could fist the front of her t-shirt. "Christen, Allie. Allie, Christen." She bit out, pushing Allie back through the doorway.
Allie grinned and laughed and pried her fingers off her shirt. "Just Al, Christen! It's nice to meet you!" She shouted. She walked backwards down the hall and pointed at Tobin.
"Tobs, I got two sixes done this morning." She informed her, slightly more seriously. "I just need to seal 'em and find some fins."
"Do what you have to do. Twin-fins." Tobin instructed shortly. "Look in the box under the register."
Allie reached the end of the hall and smirked. "She's pretty, Har." She drawled, and then stepped up through the door before Tobin could jump her.
Tobin ground her teeth and back-tracked to the shower.
Christen was still standing uncertainly in a little puddle of water, clothes clutched in one hand.
"Sorry." Tobin muttered, tapping her thighs. "She's actually harmless."
Christen raised her eyebrows. "Well. At least I know your name is actually Tobin… Or is it Harry? I’m still confused about that."
Tobin cut her eyes to Christen's. "Are you going to change anytime soon? Or do you wanna stand outside half-naked for the rest of the day?" She asked, completely ignoring Christen’s question.
"No need to be rude, Tobs." Christen's eyes sparkled.
Tobin rolled her eyes and spun on her heel. "Holler if you pass out, Christen Press!" She called over her shoulder. She walked back to the lounge and cleared a tangle of surfboard leashes off the green couch. Then she located some hydrocortisone cream and Benadryl, and set them on the coffee table next to a glass of water.
She finally grabbed her board and the wax off the coffee table and settled into the worn leather chair next to the couch. She set to work, humming while waxing the deck.
"I bet they're her shorts, right?"
Christen's voice broke into her thoughts, and Tobin twisted around to see her stepping into the lounge. She was in faded swim shorts and a Jupiter Surf t-shirt.
"Excuse me?" Tobin quirked an eyebrow.
"The lifeguard shorts. Are they Allie's?"
Tobin hummed. Tiny little circles, she told herself. Focus on the tail, where her left foot had been slipping recently.
Christen moved to sit on the couch. "Can I have a straight answer, please?" she asked sardonically. "Just one."
Tobin propped her bare feet on the coffee table. "What's the question?"
Christen grinned. "Are you a lifeguard or not?"
Tobin tipped her head back and forth, weighing her options and observing Christen's reaction. As expected, green eyes rolled and sparkled with quiet laughter. Tobin bit her cheek.
"It's not a hard question." Christen pressed.
"I am not currently a lifeguard, no." Tobin informed, back to her waxing.
Christen opened the tube of cream and started carefully applying it to the stings. She winced every time her finger made contact. "Are you from here?" she wondered absently.
Tobin's eyes flickered over. "I don't think either of us is from here."
"Where are you from?" Christen questioned.
"What are you doing here?" Tobin deflected. She rubbed her wax over the rails. Tiny little circles.
"I'm…taking a break." Christen answered carefully.
Tobin nodded but didn't respond.
"And…since you know who I am, I'd appreciate it if you didn't tell anybody."
Tobin shrugged. "I don't know who you are."
Christen frowned. "But you knew my last name."
"You told me."
"No, I didn't!"
Tobin ran her tongue over her teeth and focused on not laughing. She looked up and met Christen's eyes, a serious expression fixed on her face. "Simmer down, Christen Press. I won't tell anybody."
Christen's mouth opened and closed. She put the cream back on the table, opened the Benadryl, and settled back into the couch, scowling.
"Take a nap, Christen." Tobin glanced up from her board. "Get your head on straight. The headache and dizziness will go away soon."
Christen stared hard at her.
"I won't leave you alone." Tobin added, in a softer tone because she could see the angry red lines on Christen's thigh and knew how painful they were.
The corners of Christen's lips pulled up slightly. "I don't know if I believe you."
Tobin ignored her and resumed humming. It was like a dog and a whistle. Christen sat forward, eyes bright and alert, and Tobin observed this new behavior curiously.
"Dean Martin." Christen declared, almost surprised. She watched Tobin's toes tap the coffee table and traced her eyes up well-muscled calves past red shorts to Tobin's face.
Tobin smiled slightly.
"You're- that's a classic. You have good taste. Musical taste, at least."
"Take a nap, Christen Press." Tobin rolled her eyes.
Christen seemed more willing to comply now that she'd decided Tobin wasn't some kind of uncultured, pothead surfer. She huffed quietly and lay down with her head on the arm, mussing up her curly wet hair.
Tobin watched out of the corner of her eye. Tiny, tiny circles, focus on the tail, no more slipping.
Christen woke up and rolled over and whined at the immediate throbbing pain in her thigh. She pressed her face against the back of the couch and waited for the nausea to pass. There was a light blanket draped over her, which definitely hadn't been there when she'd fallen asleep.
"There's a bucket on the floor." Tobin said lowly, across the room.
Christen turned over as slowly as possible and blinked her eyes open.
Tobin winced sympathetically. She was sitting on the floor, wearing glasses and nursing a beer and dealing with an abundance of spreadsheets. "And there's Aspirin and water." She added. "Don't hurl on my couch."
"It didn't hurt this much before." Christen whined.
Tobin stood up and nodded. "The shock's worn off. Man 'o wars are bad, Christen. You're lucky you didn't need a hospital."
Tobin was still keeping an eye on Christen's neck, making sure nothing was swelling up, no full-body rash forming. She hadn't totally ruled out taking Christen to the hospital, but there was no need to worry her. She crossed the room and pulled the blanket away from Christen, and then sat on the couch by Christen’s knees.
"It's not…too swollen." She observed quietly, brushing her fingers over the long, winding welts.
Christen shivered and tensed at the touch and Tobin moved her hand away.
"And it's not-you know-violently red." Tobin caught Christen's gaze. "You'll probably have a rash for a week, and then-I mean-hopefully the stings won't leave scars."
Christen nodded.
Tobin stared at her for another second, and Christen moved her hand self-consciously up to her humidity and salt-water-curled hair. Tobin smiled slightly and stood up again.
Christen sat up and eyed the red web on her thigh. "What time is it?"
"Five. You talked a little in your sleep." And if Tobin was being honest, it was charming.
"Somniloquy." Christen smiled. "I'm a very verbal person."
"Yeah. Noticed that."
Christen exhaled sharply and looked around the room for her stuff.
"Under the coffee table." Tobin supplied, foraging through the fridge for something to eat. Her employees were wolves who cleaned her out when she stocked up on any kind of food with the slightest appeal. She emerged with a cheese stick and held it up for Christen, unsurprised when Christen shook her head.
Christen cleared her throat and ran a hand through her wildly curled hair. "I guess I'll…How far did we walk? Can I walk back to my hotel from here?"
"I'll wog you 'ome." Tobin said around a mouthful of cheese.
Christen stared at her.
"S'not far." Tobin added.
"You don't have to do that, really." Christen assured. She stood up and waited for the room to stop spinning before gathering up her things. "Thank you for everything."
Tobin rolled her eyes and shoved the rest of the cheese stick into her mouth. She crossed the room and took the bag off Christen's shoulder, and then gestured for Christen to follow her. They went out the side door, right into the warm, thick air of early evening, and Tobin strode purposefully across the gravel parking lot to the sidewalk.
Christen hurried to keep up. "Really, Tobin, you don't have to do this."
"Christen, if you go alone and get yourself kidnapped between here and your hotel, I'm the last one who saw you alive. I can't have that on my conscience."
Christen nearly walked into a light pole.
"Head on straight, Christen Press?"
"I'm…yes, fine."
Tobin smiled to herself and slowed down to Christen's pace.
"How long have you lived here?" Christen wondered, eyeing Tobin's bare feet. Tobin seemed like an easy presence- a toes in the sand, surfing on a hot night kind of girl. Wise, constantly amused brown eyes tinged with sadness. But she was so evasive about everything that Christen would never know.
Tobin shrugged. "Years."
Christen rolled her eyes. "Well…I like your shop. It's charming."
Tobin narrowed her eyes suspiciously. Flattery would get Christen nowhere. She'd built a wall against it many years ago, and accepted nothing from anybody on the other side.
"It is what it is."
"Your non-answers are annoying." Christen stated bluntly.
Tobin ignored her.
"Are you-I don't think you're married, unless you're the new age type who doesn't wear a ring? Do you have a boyfriend? A partner?"
"Do you?" Tobin shot back.
Christen sputtered, not really expecting that and having no idea how to answer it. She skipped to the next question. "Where are you from originally?"
"Candyland." Tobin drawled.
Christen assumed that wasn't a valid answer. "Do you like Jupiter?"
"Nothing beats Candyland, Christen."
"How long have you been surfing?"
Tobin turned them up the drive to Christen's hotel and glanced down at Christen's thigh, making sure it wasn't flaming up from the walk.
"How long have you been playing soccer?" she countered, and then cursed herself internally. Stupid, stupid. Keep to tiny little circles.
Christen gasped with success. "See! I knew you knew who I was! I knew I never told you my last name!"
Tobin moved through the automatic doors into the hotel lobby. It was large and vaulted and airy, and she glanced around at the well-dressed staff and marble fixtures.
"Fancy." She mouthed, uncomfortable in her bare feet.
Christen glanced at her toes and smiled up at her.
"So…get some ice." Tobin instructed. "I'm sure one of these…dapper young folk can help you with that. Ice your leg for the pain, then do Aspirin if ice isn't enough. If some kind of horrible rash forms, or your leg falls off or something, go to the hospital. Red flags should be gone by tomorrow if you want to swim; they never stay up long."
Christen nodded along. "Thank you, Tobin. I don't know anybody here, so just- thank you for everything."
Tobin nodded uncomfortably. She ran a hand through her hair and rocked back on her heels, already shuffling slowly towards the doors.
"Keep your head on straight, Christen Press. Enjoy your stay."
Tobin left with a smile and a wave, and breathed a sigh of relief when her feet hit the warm pavement outside.