Page 73 of Touch Me

If that isn’t the epiphany of the century blaring in my head.

I don’t know why it took me until this moment to realize how horrible the idea is of using Jace to get in good with Mark. I knew it when his collage was staring back at me from my bedroom wall.

I’ll tell Mark it’s a no and move on. I can’t have myself indebted to him in any way. If I don’t get the exclusive, then oh well, it’s not the end of the world. There’ll be other opportunities. I make a mental note to brush up on the latest Fall Fashions, resigning myself to write a bunch of shitty articles so I don’t starve to death.

That doesn’t seem to calm Jace down at all.

“Jace, it’s all good, really.” I smile sweetly and wink, trying to convince not only him but myself. “How was your day?” We desperately need a subject change.

“Actually, I have a surprise for you. And I don’t think it could have come at a better time.” He flashes me a god-why-are-your-pants-still-on-when-you-should-be-riding-my-face smile.

He disappears down the hall and comes back hauling a surfboard. It’s teal and covered in what looks like comics from the Sunday paper. When he spins it around, the comics start to take shape, and oh... my... god... it’s Madonna, complete with mirrored sunglasses and ruby red lipstick.

“I assumed with your love of ‘80s music, you’d like Madonna.” He scratches the back of his head, taking in my shocked expression and mistaking it for horror. “Do you not like it? I couldn’t find one of Cyndi Lauper.”

I jump up from the table and run over to get a closer look. “Like it? Jace, it’s the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen. I love it. I don’t know what to say. Except, maybe, I have no idea how to use it. I’ve never tried to surf.”

“I’ll teach you. And since you had a shit day, why don’t we go tonight? We can hang out on the beach until we aren’t so full of Mexican food, drink a beer or two... We’ll just see what happens.” He shrugs. Like,no big deal.

Mouth still hanging open in the most unlady-like manner, I stare up at him. I’ve never seen nonchalant Jace.

He’s fucking hot.

“Wow.” Snapping out of my trance before my mind wanders to places wholly inappropriate, I jog backward bouncing down the hall, unable to physically contain my excitement. “I'll change into a swimsuit and pack a bag.”

Even if this doesn’t go well, and it’s almost guaranteed not to, because I’m not at all athletically inclined, at least I’ll finally get to see Jace with his shirt off. My girly parts are wide awake... Ashley would be so proud.

By the time we’re ready to leave, the elevator is packed with equipment and we barely manage to squeeze ourselves in. We have surfboards, wetsuits, towels, a cooler with a couple of beers and snacks, and we each have a bag with dry clothes.

I don’t know if it’s nerves because I’ve never surfed before or from leaving the house with Jace but this feels like a date. More than the outing for hotdogs did.

Is this a date?

Is this him trying again?

NINETEEN

YOU FALL, I FALL

This is a bad idea.I don’t think I’ve ever had a worse idea. If you look upbad ideain the dictionary, a screenshot of this fucking moment would be next to it followed by an epitaph reading...Here Lies Jace’s Logical Thinking Skills.

What the hell am I doing? What if she gets hurt? What if there are too many people, or things get too loud, and I get distracted and lose my focus? She could get swept away or pulled under and hit her head. Or what if I can’t touch her to rescue her, and some beefy, muscled lifeguard sweeps in and saves her, then they walk off into the sunset and have little tan babies all born with zinc on their noses, and it’s so fucking cute they’re named beach couple of the year, make a yearly calendar, and I buy it and torture myself every day just so I can see her?

Ok, just breathe.

The surf looks pretty tame, so I’ll make sure she doesn’t attempt to snatch any waves too big for a beginner to handle. We can spend time on the beach learning the fundamentals, and if neither of us is comfortable, we won’t risk it.

I park near a less populated stretch of beach and unload the Jeep. We struggle a bit to carry everything, but we both agree to fight through it, laughing and huffing to avoid taking more than one trip. I spot an area halfway between the water and the boardwalk, and we both drop everything we have and collapse in the sand.

“Surfboards are heavier than they look,” Cassie huffs, out of breath.

“Eh, do it a couple times and it won’t seem that way.”

“I guess I need to spend more time in the gym. I’m out of shape.”

My eyes slowly roam over her body lying in the sand, taking stock of her golden skin, narrow waist, and long, toned legs. She notices my perusal, and though I don’t think it’s possible, her cheeks flush even more.

“No. No, you’re definitely not. Plus, I spend every day in the gym, and I’m out of breath too.”

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