Page 63 of Borrowing My Bestie's Brothers

That wasn’t my focus as she walked up her stairs. My eyes scoured the shadows, searching them for any possible threat, not able to take a full breath until she unlocked her front door and then went inside.

My back pressed against the car seat, the low thrum of the engine feeling like it vibrated all through me as I saw lights flick on, then turn off again until the entire apartment went dark.

She was in bed, alone, that body I’d felt against mine when I kissed her sliding between the sheets. Did she stare at the ceiling and remember as I did when I got home, marching down the hall and disappearing into my bedroom. Did her body throb in response to that memory, aching for more? Did she turn her face and bury it into her pillow, only to dream it was my chest she was lying on, my arm around her, stroking her over and over as she fell into sleep?

But she wouldn’t lie there by herself for long.

My brain let me have a couple of hours sleep, but the cool grey of the early morning greeted me when I opened them again, my heart pounding in my chest. I wouldn’t get any more rest this morning, so I jumped out of bed, checking my phone for replies, messages, and in the absence of them, the time. Just after 6 AM, I couldn’t front up to Jamie’s right now and check to see if she was OK, so I grabbed a towel and my wetsuit off the clothes line before jumping in the van to head down to the beach.

There was always something about the sound of the sea that settled me. That steady hiss, the rhythmic shift of the waves was kinda hypnotising, and plenty of times after a long session as kids, I’d sit there and just watch the ocean, all the angst of being a teenager leaching out of me.

Not now.

I felt flat, empty, hollowed out, somehow having ridden a roller coaster of highs and lows last night, but all of that adrenalin hadn’t had anywhere to go. It’s why I pulled on my wetsuit, then tucked my surfboard under my arm as I ran down to the water line.

Scoop, scoop, my mind was forced to focus on the movements of my body as I paddled out to the break. It shifted with the sway of the waves, rising up and then dipping down over the little ones that broke close to the shore, then my strokes got longer the further out to sea as I joined the line up.

“Eh,” one of the blokes sitting there on his board, waiting for a wave, said with a nod. “Which one we got this morning? The smart arse twin or the moody one.”

“Fuck you, Damo,” I replied, but without any real emotion. Every second I spent on the waves brought with it a strange kind of calm.

“Moody one then,” another bloke said with a sly grin. “Where’s your other half, Hayden?”

“Probably jerking off, calling his own name,” I replied.

That provoked a raucous spray of laughter.

“That why he’s not out here this morning?” Damo replied. “Too busy pretending to be a surfer for the camera but not wanting to mess up his hair with salt and sand?”

My eyes narrowed as I saw a wave approach. It was a decent size, my body already tensing, ready to face it.

“Do you wanna fangirl over my brother or do you wanna fucking take this wave?” I snapped.

Damo grinned, his teeth gleaming white in the growing sunlight, then started to paddle forth.

Men don’t tell other men that they really needed this, that the only time the shit swirling around in their head went quiet was when they were moving, doing the things that made them feel strong, but as we all paddled, I think they felt the same thing. Most of our lives were out of our control, but the waves? We knew how to deal with them.

There was a madness to surfing. Australian seas were wild, untamed things, with rips that’d drag you all the way out to sea if you weren’t careful, and surfers? They raced out to pit themselves against it, because then all that adrenalin had somewhere to go. My body moving, my hands paddling, my whole body dropping down low, as if in recognition of the ocean’s might, then as the wave began to swell, we went with it. Damo went for it first, but he didn’t make it, the sounds of his curses music to my ears as I rose up.

My body, my mind, they worked together, finding the crest of the wave, then my centre of balance. My feet landed on my board, the breeze sending a shiver through me as the water chilled on my skin, but that was all background noise to this. Surfing was just like the sea, full of unpredictable, wild fluid movements, and I did the same, hurtling down the face of the wave, then cutting back when I hit the shoulder.

I didn’t want it to end, this feeling of perfect pleasure. My entire focus was narrowed on prolonging the ride, but that’s not how it worked. One moment I was working with and against the momentum of the wave, then it won, crashing back into the sea and leaving me trailing off into the whitewash. This remained, though–a strange kind of peace that had my heart pounding and my head going quiet.

Which helped me to work out what I needed to do.

I couldn’t control Hunter any more than I could the sea. He’d shoot his mouth off, deliver his ‘truth’ like it was some kind of gift, but that had nothing to do with me. I had to make amends, apologise, explain why we hadn’t been upfront with Jamie, and then… I stared at the waves, the guys all moving in to catch the next wave and the next, and there was a pull in my chest to join them, but I couldn’t.

Then I’d have an answer to the question I’d been silently asking for some time. Was Jamie brave enough to see how good things could be between us? There was only one way to find out.

Chapter 29

Jamie

“More irises?” I tried to smile as Hayden brought them in, because otherwise I had to focus on this. Him, so tall it felt like he filled my kitchen, those bare feet tracking sand over my tiled floor. Golden brown skin. A bare chest without an inch of softness on it and then, those eyes. They were like blue lasers, slicing right into me.

“That’s what blokes do when they fuck up, yeah?” He thrust them my way and my hands rose, but I didn’t take them yet. “Bring flowers, apologise.”

I moved around the kitchen, filling the kettle instead, getting out coffee mugs, knowing exactly how he liked his. Almost black with just a splash of milk and no sugar, the freaking savage. But that knowledge was somehow tainted. The fake date, the banter last night, Hunter’s words, and that kiss. My fingers went to my lips and his gaze sharpened. I shoved them back down again, snatching the flowers quite gracelessly before finding another vase to put them in. As I filled it with water, I felt him move.

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