Page 54 of Britta & the Beach Boy
“If you had the money, andBritta’sweren’t in the picture, would you want to buyAnnie’s? Would you leave Paradise for LA?” The wheels in my head spin through possibilities. Archie’s idea is crazy, but it might be an option if Britta wants to stay in LA. If it’s something that would work for her, too.
Her mouth plays at a smile. She crosses her arms and leans forward on the counter. The thread-thin strap of her dress falls over her shoulder, and I tuck my hands in my pockets to keep from sliding it back into place.
“Dex…” she takes a breath, but I’ve lost mine in the sound of my nickname on her lips. “I think I might. I mean, if we’re talking about dreams that will never come true, yeah, I’d love to try something new while still doing something I love. Because I do love having my coffee shop, I just feel stuck in Paradise sometimes.” She tilts her head to the side. “Most of the time, actually.”
Her voice is wispy, like dandelion fluff floating through the air, almost within reach before it’s carried away on a breeze.
I’ve been pummeled by a rogue wave—Britta would stay in LA if she had the money to buyAnnie’s.As I recover from the surprise of that info, my crazy thought surfaces as a fully formed idea. Getting married could mean Britta gets her dream, too.
“What about you? Do you have an impossible dream now that you’ve reached the pinnacle of surfing?” she asks, as though she’s read my mind, and cracks open a window of opportunity. “Or do you feel like nothing is out of reach now that you’ve won the giant champagne glass?” Her eyes sparkle in the light of flickering candle votive between us, like the night sky above is a campfire.
“The Olympics. That’s my dream.” I don’t hesitate, even though I’ve only told my closest friends that’s what I want more than anything.
“Ohh. That’s a good one. There’s no surfing in the Olympics, right? So it’s even more impossible than my dream.” Britta picks the crab off the top of a roll with no idea how wrong she is.
“Surfing was added in 2020.” I fake being chill.
Inside, I’m on high alert, waiting for the right moment to drop in with my idea and ride the trickiest wave of my life to completion.
“Really?” She laughs. “I haven’t watched the Summer Olympics since I was a kid. I’m always too busy to even pay attention during the summer. And there’s no hockey.”
“There’s field hockey.”
Britta raises a disappointed eyebrow. “Like I said, there’s no hockey in the Summer Olympics.”
I laugh, and she cracks a smile.
“So your dream isn’t impossible at all. You could be on the Australian team, couldn’t you? I mean, you’re The World Champion Surfer.” She emphasizes each word, like she did the first time she said them.
“Probably not the Australian team.”Thisis my moment. “But possibly the American team.”
“American team?” Britta’s face scrunches into a confused expression. “Don’t you have to be American to be on the American team?”
“My mum’s got dual citizenship, so I have a connection to the US, but I don’t have citizenship.”
“And you’d need that to be on the team?”
I nod.
“What do you have to do to get it?” She picks another piece of crab off a roll, pops it in her mouth, then slides the tip of her tongue over her lips. “Whatever that is, it’s fantastic.”
“Crab. It’s crab.” I slide my sweating palms down my trousers. “Yeah, I’d have to officially immigrate and do heaps of paperwork. I’ve got a lawyer working on that. It’s a long process, lots of hoops and waiting periods. We’re hoping we can get it done in time for me to qualify for the next Olympics, but I’m not sure if that’s possible.”
“That sounds stressful.” She props her chin on her fist, leaning close enough I could kiss her. “What about the Olympics after that? Could you be on the American team then?”
“Eight years from now?” I say, lifting my eyebrows and giving her a smile. “The Games are in Brisbane, so I’d want to surf for Australia, but I’m already getting old for this sport. I go up against guys ten years my junior. I think I can do the next Olympics in four years if I give it everything I’ve got, but to compete for the first time when I’m almost forty isn’t even unreachable-dream level. It’s impossible.” I shrug, trying to hide how discouraging it is to say all this out loud and pick up another piece of sushi.
Britta grabs another piece of sushi. “So, then, the only other option is to marry an American, right?”
My head snaps up and I drop the sushi into the wasabi-soy sauce. I stare at her hand covering her mouth. Is she chewing? Or wishing she could take back what she’s said? Her eyes sparkle, which may mean she’s joking, or may just be the light bouncing off her blue irises. I can’t be sure, but I don’t want to miss my chance if she’s serious.
“Funny story…” I suck in my breath, then I go for it.
I tell her Archie’s plan, which suddenly doesn’t seem quite so mad, knowing she has a dream of her own I could make happen if I add a twist of my own:
I give Britta enough money for a down payment onAnnie’s, and she marries me so I can become an American Olympian.
Chapter twenty-one
