Page 49 of Tourist Trap

Claire squeezes my hand once, then lets go, smiling at me before she stands and goes to find her friend to assure her she’s fine.

SEVENTEEN

MILES

“Whole lotta beach, Miles,” Claire says, five days after her injury, stepping off her towering lifeguard chair and moving next to me as I set my board in the sand. There was a small bruise on her forehead the next day, but it’s already gone.

“Yeah?” I ask, trying to keep my eyes on the bag I’m unpacking.

After June walked in, I needed space. Thankfully, I had a full schedule for the next few days, meaning I was able to avoid her completely. But when I realized I had the second half of my day off today with nothing else to fill my time, I decided to grab my board and hit the waves.

It definitely hadnothingto do with Claire asking me when the last time I surfed for myself was.

“Yeah. I think it’s interesting you chose the stretch right in front of my chair to set up.”

My jaw goes tight as I realize what she’s saying and, even more, that she’s not wrong. I could have picked nearly anywhere on the mile stretch of shoreline that is Seaside Point, but instead, I chose the stretch between 16thand 17thAvenue, knowing damn well that’s where Claire would be.

The more I deny my pull to her, the worse it seems my subconscious tugs me.

“I like this spot,” I say nonchalantly, looking to the water once more before shifting my gaze back to her.

She tips her head to the side, her long blonde ponytail falling to the side as she smiles, and I know damn well that means she can see right through me, whether or not I want her to.

“So you’re not ignoring me now?” Claire asks with a smile.

A light blush burns on my cheeks, but I hope it can be explained away as just the heat. “I never was,” I say, even though I definitely was.

Claire keeps telling me I’m into her, teasing and taunting and being an overall brat, but as much as I deny it, she’s not wrong. Something about Claire Donovan calls out to me, even if there’s no universe where she can be mine.

Not with her leaving after the summer and surely not when I need to keep my fucking head down and concentrate, take on as many odd jobs and surf lessons as I can in order to buy out Paul.

Especially with how Brad has been sniffing around lately.

“You’re a bad liar, Miles,” she says.

Even I can’t argue that fact, but I don’t have to when her name is called. She gives the lifeguard a nod over her shoulder and starts walking backward, her gaze still locked on mine.

I shake my head and smile at her as I lift my board and walk toward the water.

* * *

“What are you up to?” I call out two hours later as she stands at the edge of the water, watching me as I walk back onto the shore, surfboard in hand.

There weren’t too many waves, though every time I caught one, I could see Claire watching me, and I don't think it was because it was her job.

“I’m off for the rest of the day. I was just moving up the beach to make sure no one needed anything before I head out,” she says, putting her hands onto her full hips before tipping her chin to the water. “Saw you out there.”

“Nice to be able to surf without having to teach some kid or keeping an eye out for them.” It was also a reminder of how much I love being out on the water and how freeing it is to be out there with no responsibilities or worries.

“Yeah, I’m sure. I wish I could do it.”

I shouldn’t say it. Really, I shouldn’t, because the less time I spend with Claire, the better, especially if that time is spent while she’s in a small bathing suit and soaking wet.

But because I’m a moron, I say it.

“I could teach you.”

Her head moves back like that’s a shock to her. “Really?”

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