Sunny wonders the same thing.
She gets back to her place, peels off her sweatshirt, and flings it against the wall. Is it really over over with Boone and me? Can he just let me go like this?
I guess so, she thinks, recalling the image of the little Brit curled up on Boone's couch. Even if what she said about not having sex with Boone was true, it's only a matter of time. The woman is pretty, Sunny thinks. A total betty. Of course Boone would want her.
Yeah, but it's more than sex, isn't it? Sunny thinks as she goes to her computer to log on to the surf report. She's so different, this chick, and maybe that's the point. Maybe Boone wants something totally different for his life, and that's fair.
So do I.
And it's coming. She sees it on the screen. A big whirling splash of red spinning its way toward her, bringing the hope of a different life.
The hope and the threat, she thinks.
Am I ready for this?
Ready for change?
I guess that's what Boone wants.
Is it what I want?
She sits down in front of her little statue of Kuan Yin-the female personification of the Buddha and the Chinese goddess of compassion-and tries to meditate, clear all this relationship shit out of her head. There's no room for it right now. The big swell is coming, it will be here tonight, and she'll be in the water at first light and will need every ounce of concentration and focus she possesses to ride those waves.
So breathe, girl, she tells herself.
Push out the confusion.
Breathe in the clarity.
It's coming.