Page 81 of Britta & the Beach Boy
He laughs. “Check out the size of the tub. Figured you’d enjoy a soak in that.”
“I can’t wait.” I run my fingertips along the curved edge of the free-standing porcelain bathtub, then look back at Dex.
Red creeps across his cheeks and, like a rock over still water, my heart skips.
“Where’s your room?” With my thumb and pinky, I twist Mom’s ring around my finger.
Dex’s eyes don’t leave mine as he wags his head toward the hall. “Right across the hall.”
“So… close?”
He nods.
I swallow.
And Stella yells. “Britta, you’ve got to come see this!”
Dex and I huff a laugh at the same time, our eyes still locked, before I walk past him, closer than I need to in this giant bathroom, because, as I’ve already admitted, I’m like a bear to honey. I can’t stop helping myself to Dex, no matter how sticky the situation might get.
“Coming!” I call, then follow her excited voice to a room only slightly smaller than mine, but with a life-sized picture of the whole squad fromSurf City High.
She spends the next ten minutes asking Archie and Dex random questions about the show’s winding character arcs that are so specific, neither one of them can answer. Dex just laughs, but Archie’s energy depletes faster than a pin-pricked balloon leaking air.
In a moment of silence, when Stella spots a pod of dolphins and runs to her room’s balcony to watch them, Dex says, “we’ll leave you girls to unpack. Archie and I are going to catch a few waves while the surf’s good.”
“Oh… Okay.” I’m not sure why this surprises me—that Dex will go on with his regular life, like nothing’s changed. Technically,nothing really has, even if my life has taken a one-hundred-eighty degree turn in the past four days. “Maybe I’ll see you later tonight, then?”
“Maybe.” Dex bobs his head up and down, then turns to leave.
He’s almost to the door, and my stomach is somewhere near the floor when he stops, pivots, and lets his mouth slide into a mischievous grin. “Unless you’d rather leave unpacking for later and take your first surf lesson instead.”
My stomach may as well be bungee jumping, the way it shoots back up into my chest when Dex’s brown eyes—two smooth, shimmering espressos—meet mine.
“I would absolutely rather surf with you,” I say without even thinking about it.
Only when Archie closes his eyes and, in a tiny, almost imperceptible motion, shakes his head, do I wonder if I should have said no.
But the thought gets lost in Dex’s dimpled smile.
Chapter thirty
Dex
Instead of walking out the back door and surfing a perfect, curling wave, we drive fifteen minutes south to a beach with a nice, fluffy wave, just right for a beginner. Archie’s not happy about it, but he’ll get over it. I’m also not the one who has to go with Stella to rent a longboard, since there was only one at the house, and she wants to learn too. That’s Archie’s job.
My job is to teach my wife how to surf; a job I plan to enjoy.
Britta and I head to the beach while Archie and Stella find a board. We drop our stuff, and Britta peels off her T-shirt and shorts to reveal a colorful bikini with enough blue to highlight her eyes and little enough fabric to show off her shape. She’s tall and thin with the right amount of feminine curves, but notso many that she’ll have trouble popping up on her board. Lotta fellas prefer more up top, but I like a girl with a more athletic build.
Far as I’m concerned, Britta’s got the perfect body. But I might be biased because she’s got a cracker personality, too.
Either way, I hate to cover up the view, but I hand her a wetsuit—one a girl I dated left behind. “You’ll want this. It’s cold out there, and it’ll protect you from board rash. Wax makes the deck rough as sandpaper.”
While Britta sticks her feet into the tight legs and shimmies the neoprene suit over her thighs, I try to keep my focus on her board, pointing out the curved nose, flat deck, the sides we call rails, and finally the fins. At last, she’s done shaking her hips side-to-side in a motion that makes me too hot to even think about putting on my wetsuit. Climate change has nothing on me. Ocean temps are about to rise another degree or two once I get in the water.
I help Britta zip up, then carry her board into the water. When we’re waist deep, I strap the leash onto her ankle before holding the board so she can get on. “First thing is to teach you how to balance on your board and how to paddle.”
Foamy waves roll around us, bobbing Britta’s board up and down and making her wobble.
