Page 24 of Britta & the Beach Boy
“Women,” Britta says, and Archie turns his head only enough to peer at her. “We’re women, not girls.”
Archie rolls his eyes, which ratchets the awkwardness up to an uncomfortable tension.
“He doesn’t mean anything by it.” I jump in to diffuse the situation, mostly to protect my mate, but also because I want Britta to stay.
Few people have the guts to stand up to Archie. Not because he’s intimidating, but because of his last name. It packs a lot of power in Australia, and that—plus our long history—packs a lot of influence on me. I know Archie has my best interest at heart, and he’s a ripper coach, but sometimes he’s too protective of me, and I feel isolated from the real world.
Britta is a nice counterbalance to his certainty that he knows what’s best for me.
Her eyes narrow in his direction, but she directs her words at me. “We didn’t plan on staying. We don’t have any extra clothes or toiletries, but thank you for the invitation.”
Archie holds back a smile. He thinks he’s won this little battle.
But Britta’s answer isn’t a no. It’s a problem I can solve.
“The pharmacy will have toiletries,” I shrug. “Rip Tide headquarters isn’t far. They’ll give me samples.”Easy.
“Samples of what?” Britta asks.
“Clothes!” Stella grasps Britta’s arm. “Yes, please! We’re in!”
Archie lets out a loud sigh at the same time Britta says, “No, we’re not!”
As much as I’d like Britta to stay, I won’t push Britta to stay if she’s not comfortable.
But then Archie says, “Good. Dex needs to focus,” and Britta’s eyes shift from the turquoise of Pipeline to the mottled blue of Lowers.
She doesn’t like to be told what to do.
“We really couldn’t let you give us clothes,” she says to me with no conviction.
“Yes! We can!” Stella looks ready to burst out of her skin.
“But we don’t want todistractyou.” Britta sends an angry glance Archie’s way before looking at me again. “I know what a big deal this is. If we interfered with your win, I’d feel terrible.”
Her eyes are back to the startling turquoise color of Pipe. They’re as beautiful and as dangerous as that wave.
I’ve wiped out more on Pipe than any other wave I’ve surfed. I’ve broken my back there and nearly lost my career to it.
But I’ve also had the best rides of my life on Pipe. I’m mesmerized by its beauty. Tempted by its perfection. Scared by its power. And I’m never more alive than when I catch a perfect barrel there.
Britta’s eyes tug at me in the same way.
So, trusting my instincts, instead of agreeing and sending her on her way—knowing I’ll get my hopes up she’ll come back tomorrow—I say, “You won’t be a distraction. We’ll hang out a bit, grab some dinner, then Archie will put me to bed early.”
That gets a quick smile from her.
Archie throws up his arms and shakes his head. “Fine! But I get to choose what’s for dinner—no burgers or tacos or anything heavy. Nutritionist approved only!”
He wags his finger at me like an old nun we had as a teacher in primary school.
“Yes, Sister Patricia.” I fold my hands together, same as we had to for prayer, and bow my head.
Archie mutters, “Dimwit,” then goes into the tent to pack up my stuff.
But Britta smiles. “I need to text Annie to tell her I won’t be there tomorrow. Hopefully, she’s more understanding than Archie. I think we’re both in trouble with him.”
“His bark is worse than his bite. Let me get some trakkies on and we’ll get out of here.” I wave my thumb toward Archie and the tent, then close the flaps behind me.
