Page 32 of Sweet Chaos
Ollie paddled back out to me after riding a wave and straddled his board. I was staring at the horizon, soaking up the afternoon sun, peddling to stay on my board. There might have been a secret smile on my face.
“Are you planning to surf or just daydream?” Ollie teased, but there was an edge to his voice like he knew where my thoughts had taken me, and it didn’t make him happy.
He was right though. I was here to surf. I surfed for fun. For the rush. And sometimes I showed off and made a total idiot of myself. I eyed a set of waves building that looked perfect for what I had in mind and grinned at Ollie. “That wave has my name on it. Just call me Superman.”
Ollie groaned. “Oh no. Fuck no.”
I was laughing as I paddled for the wave, paying no heed to his words. “Don’t even think about it, Smalls. Waves are heavy today.”
The adrenaline was pumping, and I was up on my board, false confidence riding high as I flew off the lip of the wave and caught air. I was Superman, flying high, my board sky-bound just the way I wanted it. Or I would have been Superman if it hadn’t all fallen apart. Airbound and flailing, I windmilled my arms and legs, desperately trying to grip the rails of my board. Needless to say, that never happened. I plummeted back into the water, sans board, and got rag-dolled by the heavy waves. Tumbled and turned until I had no idea which direction was up, and which was down.
What felt like a lifetime later, battered by the surf and dragged across the sandy bottom, I washed up to shore and got on my knees, coughing up the water in my lungs. With all the grace I could muster which was none, I got to my feet on shaky legs, and retrieved my board. And got knocked flat on my ass in the shallows.
By the time I made it to the water’s edge and sat on the sand to catch my breath, I felt like I’d just gone through a full cycle on the washing machine.
“Shit,” Dylan said, appearing out of nowhere. He pushed his board in the sand, fins down to keep it from getting swept out to sea and crouched in front of me. “Are you okay?”
One might think he would be concerned but he was barely suppressing his laughter. Practically bursting to let it out. Couldn’t blame him. Not one of my finer moments. Entertainment gold, no doubt. I sighed. “I’m fine. Except for my bruised ego.”
“You almost had it.” I shot him a dirty look. He couldn’t hold it in anymore. He was laughing so hard he was doubled over. I rolled my eyes and waited for him to pull himself together.
“If you were trying to get my attention, you’ve got it,” he said after he caught his breath from laughing. He pounded his chest with his fist. “Oh man, you’re killing me.” He plucked a handful of seaweed off the top of my head and tossed it over his shoulder. Well, that must have been a good look. Someone just shoot me. “You sure you’re okay?”
I rolled my eyes again and stood up, slightly battered but not broken. “I’m fine.”
He swiped his hand down his face to hide the laughter. “Holy shit. You made my day.”
“I’ll stop at nothing to make you laugh.” He peeled down the top half of his wetsuit, complaining of being too hot, because yeah he was just too freaking hot, and my eyes roamed over the heavily inked tattoos on his chest. I’d been wrong. His entire chestwasn’tcovered in tattoos like I had thought. There was a blank space over his heart, about the length and width of my two hands. Blank. Empty. Like the artist had stopped midway through painting a masterpiece and left an unfinished canvas.
Who would do that?
He tugged on the end of one of my braids, drawing my attention away from the blank space over his heart. “These are cute.” Then he leaned in close and brushed a lock of wet hair off my forehead. “I don’t like it when you’re with Shaggy Doo.”
“You don’t have to like it. Ollie is my friend. Get over it.”
“Afriendwho’s fucked you.”
Ugh, we were back to that. I planted both hands on his bare chest and tried to shove him away. He wrapped his hands around my wrists and tugged me closer. “Come over to my house tonight. I’ll pick you up.”
“I’m busy tonight.”
His eyes narrowed like he didn’t believe me. Like I couldn’t possibly have any plans that didn’t include him. He took a step back and crossed his arms over his chest. “Busy doing what?”
“I promised Nic we’d do an 80s movie marathon. She’s making pizza. Not that I owe you an explanation.”
He snorted. Not sure what the meaning of that was but I didn’t stick around long enough to find out.
“Catch you later, Dylan.”
Without giving him a chance to respond, I jogged into the water, my board under my arm as Shane was on his way in. His eyes darted toward where I’d left Dylan then back to me. “All good?”
“Yep.” I gave him a big smile, and he didn’t comment further. I got the feeling that he’d rather just stay out of it. Smart move.
* * *
“What did I tell you? It’s synchronicity,” Nic said as she followed the GPS to none other than Dylan St. Clair’s house. A house I had never been to and hadn’t even known the address of until Nic got it earlier.
“I can’t believe you made this plan behind my back.” What were the chances that she and Dylan would be pumping gas right next to each other? Slim to none. Yet it had happened.
