Page 17 of Wilder Love
I cracked my neck. “It gets to me sometimes, yeah. I mean, this is a whole other league than the QS. Some of those guys I’m competing against are my heroes. Sometimes the crowds and the travel and the little shit gets to me, but when I get out there, I forget about all that. It’s just me… trying to catch the best wave and surf the best I can.”
That was my spiel, the same thing I told journalists who interviewed me. I wasn’t lying, but I was glossing over a few things, making myself sound more chilled than I was.
He chuckled, detecting the veiled lie. “You’re doing good. Find your Zen, exhale the bullshit.”
“Did you see that on a bumper sticker?”
“Facebook,” he joked.
Sometimes competing brought out the worst in me but I didn’t want to talk about that with him. My dad didn’t have a temper like I did. He was more relaxed, more easygoing, let things slide off his back. I didn’t always know how to do that but was always striving to be a better version of myself.
“So, what’s the deal with you and Peony?” I asked, steering the conversation away from me.
My dad snorted and took a pull of his beer. “Her name’s Poppy.”
“I knew it was a flower.”
He shrugged one shoulder. “We’re keeping it casual.”
I read between the lines.She’s not your mother. It would last three months, tops. His longest relationship since my mom was six months. Which had prompted me to move out of the house at nineteen. Our three-bedroom bungalow was close quarters, and we liked our own space.
My dad and I hung out on the back deck for a while, chilling out and talking about life and surfing. After a day of shredding, my body was loose, my skin tingling from the sun I caught, and I was getting drowsy. Another good day. That was how I measured my life. When the good outweighed the bad, I was winning.
When I got home, I lay awake in bed, thinking about my flight to Tahiti tomorrow, and one of the most challenging contests of my career so far.
My cell beeped, and I grabbed it from the bedside table, checking the screen.
Firefly: They’ll be able to see me from Mars now
Shane: That’s the idea, Firefly
Firefly: You didn’t have to do that. You shouldn’t have.
Shane: My conscience…
Firefly: It’s loud
Shane: Keeps me up nights
Why had she only just noticed the lights and reflectors I’d attached to her bike? I sat up in bed, my back against the headboard.
Shane: You’re not out riding now, are you?
I waited for a response but got none. Damn that girl. I scrubbed my hand over my face and groaned. It was midnight and Remy was out there alone, riding a bike.
Remy: I’m home now. Night Shane. And good luck.
Shane: Night Remy. And thanks.
A niggling feeling settled in my gut. I stared at the ceiling for a few minutes then I got up and pulled on a pair of gray sweatpants and a T-shirt. The street was dark, and clouds obscured the moon. I used my phone flashlight to guide my way across the street. Her bike wasn’t there.
Twenty minutes later, I watched from the staircase of her building as she cycled up the hill and turned into the parking lot.
She hadn’t seen me sitting here. I raked both hands through my hair and I waited for her to finish locking up her bike. She stopped short when she saw me, her hand flying to her chest. “Oh God. You scared me.”
“The fuck were you doing, Remy?”
She sighed. “Why are you here, Shane?”
