Page 64 of Be Your Anything
“Sweet.”
Otto and I paddle a bit farther out, meeting up with a handful of other surfers in the area.
And then we start going after the waves.
There’s an etiquette to surfing, a balance between sharing and bravery that becomes its own language after enough time.
The problem with being a professionally ranked surfer is that I get a lot of guys swimming over with their boards, wanting to chat. It can be nice, but it’s also distracting.
So instead of riding more than a wave or two, I spend the rest of my morning chatting, answering questions.
And before I know it, the tide has changed and the sun has risen a bit higher, and Otto is indicating that we should head in since the crowd on the beach is growing.
“You’re going to that other party today, right?” I ask, placing my board in the storage room on the side of my house as Otto rinses off in my outdoor shower.
“Yeah, man. It’s gonna be sweet. I can’t believe you’re not gonna head over at least for a little bit.”
I shrug, though I know he can’t see me.
“I just have other things I want to do today.”
Otto laughs, his voice slightly muffled by the water splattering to the ground. “I know. You’re changing, man. I can’t ever remember a time you’d give up a good party to have afamily day.”
“Well, I didn’t used to really have a family, so…”
The water shuts off and Otto emerges, wrapping a towel around his waist, his upper body tattoos on full display.
“I know. I didn’t say it was a bad thing, okay? I just meant it’s different.”
I nod. “Thanks for the surf today. Sorry I was distracted.”
“No prob. But that distraction’s gonna kill you if you don’t get it sorted soon. Fetu’s never gonna forgive you if you fuck up your chances this season because you’redistracted.”
I chuckle, thinking about my instructor-turned-coach. “Ain’t that the truth.”
Otto chuckles then slaps his hand into mine. “Later, man. Have a happy Fourth!”
“Bye.”
Otto walks down the path along the side of my house and out to the front, where his truck is parked.
I strip down and climb into the shower, rinsing the salt and sand from my body, though I don’t do a full wash. Then I dry off and head inside.
Otto’s right—I have to make sure I don’t get too distracted from the upcoming surf season. I make a mental note to reprioritize surfing and working out in the early mornings. Then I head inside.
“Want another drink?”
I pull my focus away from the water and look over to Remmy. She’s standing next to my lounge chair, looking at me expectantly, her hand propped on a slim hip.
My eyes take a slow perusal of her figure as she waits for me to answer, taking in the willowy length of her legs, her torso wrapped in a tiny bikini that shows off as much skin as it can.
She looks at me with amusement. “Or is there something else on the menu that’s of interest?”
Something twists in my stomach, a familiar feeling that has been lancing through me all day.
“Another whiskey would be great.”
Her expression dims slightly at my response, but she spins around and heads in the direction of my downstairs bar to put in a request with the bartender.
