by Jill Patten
It’s not often I have visitors. Molly and Thad are about the only people who visit me, and occasionally a few other friends. Most of the time, I’m hanging at someone else’s place. I saw Thad earlier, so I know it’s not him, and Molly is probably still pissed at me, so I doubt it would be her either.
Phoebe pops in my head again. I know she doesn’t know where I live, but I love the thought of her paying me a surprise visit.
“Hold on a sec,” I yell out as I walk to greet whoever’s outside.
When I open the door, Molly is standing there looking at her phone then looks up at me. “You could answer my calls and text, asshole.”
“I love you too, sis,” I say then grab her and hold her in one of my bear hugs. When I let her go, she walks in, and I shut the door behind her. “What’s up?” I ask as if nothing out of the ordinary has been going on between us.
She steps around me and makes herself comfortable on the broken-in green couch. “Nothing really.” She shrugs. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay…and to see how your date went with Phoebe.”
“How did you know we went on a date? Did she tell you?”
“I didn’t, but you just told me.” Her eyelids lower, turning into slits. “I saw you two this morning. You both look pretty damn comfortable with each other.”
I pull my lips in between my teeth and chew on them for a few seconds. “Stop beating around the bush. All you want to know is if I fucked her.” Her assumptions piss me off, but I remain cool. Another fight isn’t something I’m in the mood for tonight. “Well, little sis, guess what? It’s none of your damn business.”
Her mouth opens then closes. Then opens again but nothing comes out.
“You know, it really disgusts me that you always expect the worst from me,” I say, shaking my head. “If you want to know what happened, ask her.”
She stands up and walks close to me. “Don’t throw this back on me and try making me look like the bad guy. I always give you the benefit of the doubt until you do something to screw it up. Well, guess what, Lance? You screwed up!” Her voice heightens.
“And I’m fixing it,” I yell back, cutting her off before she can remind me what kind of asshole I am.
Silence reverberates between the walls.
Walking back and forth across the room to disperse my frustration, I run my hand through my hair a few times, ending with a forceful tug. “This is my place, Molly, so if all you’re going to do is walk in here and throw slurs at me then I’m gonna have to ask you to leave,” I say in a calm tone. “If I want to hear bullshit like this then I’ll go back home.” I keep my back to her as I stop in front of the fridge to grab a beer.
My head begins to pound, so I rest the cold brew against it for a little bit of relief.
“I’m sorry for disrespecting you in your home,” I hear her solemn voice say behind me.
I turn around to face her, and she’s now sitting on the couch. “And I’m sorry for being the fucking loser brother you always have to babysit. But this time, Molly, I don’t need you to be my mother. Phoebe is different. I don’t want to hurt her. If anything, I want to help her whether she wants my help or not.” I pop the top on the can and take several huge gulps.
“Believe it or not, I like this girl. I mean, I really like her,” I admit. “And it’s a damn shame she’s probably leaving at the end of the week because we could make some beautiful babies,” I tease and then tip my beer up and finish off the rest.
Molly laughs. “Of course you can’t ever stay serious. Everything has to end with a joke.”
I toss the beer in the trash and open the fridge for another. “Who says I’m joking? Just think about it—a blond hair beauty with eyes so blue they’d cut into you.” I smile at my foolishness.
“Well, whatever happens, please be careful. And I don’t mean you doing something to her. I mean watch out for your own heart in the process. You seem a little smitten with her, and I don’t know what to make of it. I’ve never seen Lance in love before.”
Yup, that comment gets a big fat eye roll. “You’ve never seen it because it doesn’t happen.” I give her a big cheesin’ smile. “And it won’t. So don’t worry your little overanalyzing brain.”
“Whatever,” she says, blowing me off. “So what’s the next step in your ‘Making things right with Phoebe’ plan?
After chugging the next can down, I answer, “I’m teaching her how to surf tomorrow.”
“Oh hell!” she blurts, startling me. “I know it’s serious. You never take anyone surfing, much less teach them. You won’t even help me work on my techniques.” She starts to ramble on about me being in deep and then something about over my head. Hell, I don’t know, I just know it’s time for her to go home.
I set my beer down and march over to her. “And now it’s time for you to go.”
She huffs then crosses her arms over her chest as if she’s daring me to make her move from her spot. “Don’t kick me out because I know your feelings better than you do.”
“Bye, Molly,” I say, lifting her off the couch then pushing her toward the door.
“Lance,” she whines.
“Molly,” I say, mimicking her voice. I close the door and lock it before she can open it back up.
I laugh when I hear her call me a jerk before she tromps down the metal steps. What the hell would I do if I didn’t have her calling me out on my shit? She gives me my space but stays on my ass all at the same time. I’m one lucky motherfucker to have her in my life. God knew what he was doing when he made her my sister.
****
I’m up before the sun peeks over the ocean.
Before I step out of bed I already know today is going to be one to remember. In a good way, of course. Any day spent with Phoebe is a good day.
I rummage through my drawer for the flashiest pair of trunks I own. If I’m going to be teaching in the water, I want something that’s going to catch Phoebe’s eye. It’s important she doesn’t lose sight of me at any time.
After digging at the bottom in the very back, I come out with a bright green pair. That should get her attention along with everyone else’s.
My nerves are buzzing about, and I blame it on the excitement of sharing my passion with a girl I have a ridiculous crush on. Yes, that’s all it is, a simple crush. After thinking over everything Molly said last night, that’s the conclusion I’ve come to.
I’m pretty sure the last time I had a crush on a girl was back in eighth grade. Her name was Lara and she was two years older than me. If memory serves me right, she got knocked up her last year in high school. Good thing I never tapped that.
Phoebe shows up in a solid black one-piece, and I’m an asshole because I was banking on a two-piece. A nip slip is always a given with a bikini top on. The perv in me isn’t so easy to turn off. It’s an ongoing character flaw.
I place my hand on her shoulder and give her a friendly kiss on the cheek. “You look nice this morning.” See, Molly, I can be a gentleman, I think to myself.
She looks down at her suit then shrugs. “It’s Tiffanny’s. She insisted I wear it. You know, to prevent any wardrobe malfunctions.”
“Sounds like Tiffanny is a smart friend. I hope you don’t mind, but I brought you something to wear, too,” I say, handing her a white shirt.
“What’s this for?” She eyes it then hesitantly takes it from me.
“It’s a rash guard. It not only helps you from getting scratched up from the board, it helps protect you from the sun’s rays too.”
She tugs the shirt down over her head, and I’m pleased when I see it fits her perfectly.
“It looks great on you,” I say, taking her hand in mine.
She smiles. “Thank you.”
We walk hand in hand down the beach. My favorite spot is only a quarter mile from where we are. Phoebe looks at me quizzically. She’s probably expecting me to drive her somewhere.
“You have a questionable look on your face. I bet you’re wondering why we
’re walking.”
She grins. “Sort of.”
“Well, for one, it’s not that far from here. Literally walking distance,” I say, pointing toward our destination. “Second, I don’t have a car, so I can’t exactly drive us anywhere.” It doesn’t bother me to not have a car. I’m perfectly content with my bike. It’s one of my favorite ways to stay in shape. For most girls, though, it’s a major turn-off. Phoebe doesn’t exactly strike me as the type to be bothered by it. At least I hope not.
She doesn’t say anything, so I flat out ask her. “Does it bother you?” I’ve noticed she gets winded easily, so I hope it’s not a problem for her.
She turns her head to look at me. “What? That you don’t have a car or that we’re walking?”
“That I don’t have a car,” I reply.
She shakes her head before responding. “No. If that’s what makes you happy then what business is it of mine? I’m glad we’re walking. It gives me the chance to enjoy the beach in solitude before everyone piles on top of each other.”
And that response alone makes me crush on her a little bit more.
****
We’re both standing on a couple of makeshift surfboards I use to teach with. “Okay, first I’m going to teach you the basics. We’re going to start on the sand before moving into the water. I want to make sure you feel comfortable before throwing you out to the sharks.”
She cuts her eyes at me, and I laugh.
“Kidding, kidding. Okay, watch what I do, then I want you to do the same thing,” I instruct.
She nods, paying special attention to what I say.
“First, I’m going to teach you the ‘pop up.’ I’m going to lie down on my board. You can too, just to get the feel of what I’m doing.” We both lie on our boards. “Always keep your legs and feet together, and it’s okay if your toes hang off the end.”
She positions herself until she has the correct form.
“Next, put your hands under your chest. Act as if there’s an invisible ball right under your breasts so you’ll keep yourself from lying flat on your board. Once you’ve rolled your head and chest is up, roll your toes up onto the surfboard,” I instruct as I show her the movements. “Now, I’m going to push up. The front knee should end up underneath your chin, and your back knee under your torso. Like this.” I do the movement quick to give her an idea of what I’m talking about. “Let me show you again all at once. Wave push, roll, then pop up. Now I’m in my proper surfing stance. See how everything lines up like I explained?”
She nods.
“Good. I’m going to show you again and then I want you to try.”
Usually when girls are put on the spot in front of a guy, they’re nervous and awkward. Not Phoebe. She goes through the motions with confidence. I love a girl who’s comfortable in her own skin.
“Nice,” I praise. “Do it again.”
She pops up again, and I notice how her feet aren’t positioned as they should be. “See where your feet are? You’re too far back. You need to stay in the center so you’ll have better control of the board,” I explain by placing my hands on her hips and walking her back two steps. She stumbles back, nearly losing her balance. My natural instinct is to catch her. So I do. What I don’t expect is to get a handful of her boob. I fight everything within me not to caress it, or to rub my thumb over her nipple.
With a quick step, I move away from her before she feels the quick hard-on growing in my shorts. “Now listen, Phoebe, this is serious stuff. We don’t have time to be screwing around,” I say jokingly. Her mishap is hot as fuck and teasing her is necessary to break the sexual tension.
She laughs. “Yeah, I hear ya. You took advantage of me tripping to cop a feel.”
I throw my hands up in surrender. “You caught me. I’m guilty,” I say with a smile.
She shakes her head at me. “You’re such a flirt.”
“And as much as I’d like to take this flirting to another level, we have waves taunting us.”
I step back and tell her to continue popping up until she feels like she has it just right.
Once she feels comfortable and I think she looks like she has it perfected, I take her to the water.
We’re out about fifty feet from the beach. Phoebe doesn’t carry the confidence she did earlier on the sand. I don’t expect her to, though. You have to respect the ocean, because she holds no mercy.
We’re both on our boards in position for the next wave. “You ready for this?” I ask.
She nods.
“Okay, when I tell you to start paddling, paddle hard. I’ll be right here with you so don’t be afraid. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”
She nods again. I wonder if her nerves are caught in her throat, hindering her ability to speak.
I watch as the next swell comes along. It looks perfect for her, so I tell her to paddle.
“Go! Go! Go, Phoebe!” I yell, cheering her on.
Right as I stand on my board, I watch her lose her balance from the break of the wave and crash into the water. Without thinking, I dive straight in for her. There’s no way I’m letting her get caught in the undertow.
My arm goes around her waist, and I swim up to the surface with her in tow.
As soon as I hit air I’m asking her if she’s okay. With her hands covering her head, she shakes her head in a panic. Fear strikes her eyes, and she drops out of sight below the water surface.
Terror paralyzes me seconds before I realize it’s not a head injury she’s suffering from. It’s something far worse—her pride.
Confusion…sadness…guilt are just a few things I feel when I see her come up for air.
“Phoebe…” I have no words for her. All I can do now is give her the comfort she needs. My arms wrap around her fragile body, and I hold her as I feel her body break down against me. “It’s okay,” I say, hoping to reassure her while my eyes stare past her at the blond wig floating in the water.
PHOEBE
I can’t believe this is happening to me.
Stupid ocean.
Stupid surfing.
Stupid hair.
Stupid lungs.
Stupid me.
Just once, I thought I could go somewhere where people don’t know me. Where they’ll treat me the same as anyone else. Where they don’t feel sorry for me. Where they don’t look at me with sadness in their eyes like Blue is doing right now.
I was so worried about having another mishap with my boobs that the thoughts of my wig coming off never crossed my mind. How can I be so stupid and careless?
My face is drenched with salty water, and I can’t differentiate which is from the ocean and which are my tears. I swore I wouldn’t cry this week under any circumstances. This vacation is supposed to be my happy place; my Neverland from the real world.
Blue’s hand cradles the back of my head, holding me tight against him. I cringe. His lips press against my temple as he murmurs ‘it’s okay’ over and over.
I’m humiliated. I want to slip under the water and drown into the sea of darkness.
How can he even be touching me? How is he not appalled by my appearance? Why is this happening to me? Why can’t I ever catch a break?
He tucks me into his chest and holds me there, whispering consoling words until I’m too tired to cry anymore.
Once my sobs turn into sniffles, he cradles my face with both hands and forces me to look up at him. His sparkling blue eyes stare at me with deep sincerity. “You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on.” Even though my face is wet, he wipes the remaining tears from underneath my eyes with his thumbs. “Hair is just an accessory. Just like earrings, or a necklace. You’re gorgeous with or without it.”
I close my eyes, hoping what he’s saying is true. Hoping he’s not telling me the things he thinks I want to hear. My lips unexpectedly feel the warmth of his breath right before they’re met with his. He kisses me soft and slow, taking tiny breaks to mumble words of endearment against my mouth.
He pulls away with his hands still cradling my face, and I open my eyes. He’s gazing at me. “Do you believe me now?” he asks as if he can read my mind.
I drop my head and close my eyes. I can’t face him. If my eyes are closed, it makes it seem unreal.
His thumbs shift under my chin and lift my face up. Surprising me, his lips crash into mine. His tongue finds the slight part in my lips and enters of its own accord. My tongue instantly seeks him, ready to explore all he’s willing to offer. His head slightly turns to the side, and he kisses me as if he’s trying to replace my humiliation with courage.
My heart pounds erratically in my chest. Between the water pressing against my chest and Blue taking my breath away, I struggle to draw in air. As much as I don’t want to, I break our kiss to take in a deep gulp of air. Anxiety continues to build as I scan the shore, searching for my bag. I need my puffer, and I’m scared of what’s going to happen if I don’t get to it soon.
Blue carefully watches me with apprehension etched on his face.
I see his concern. “I can’t breathe,” I say as I force another intake of air.
“Here,” he says, grabbing my board, instructing me to hold on to it while he swims us back to shore.
The entire way, I continue to try and fill my lungs with the air they seek. The hole in my gut makes it impossible. Every time I inhale, it feels like my weakness smothers all oxygen from my body.
My hands grip the edges of the surfboard while I lie limp on top of it, gasping.
I watch the muscles strain in Blue’s back and arms as they work profusely to get us back on the beach. He moves fluidly through the water as if our lives are in danger. If he only knew the dangers that already surround me.
If I had it my way, I would run as soon as my feet touched the sand and never look back. I can’t do that, though. Blue is going to want an explanation. And after everything he just said, and the way he looks at me with adoring eyes, I owe it to him.
As soon as we reach dry land, I scramble for my inhaler and quickly take a few puffs. Blue watches me with curious eyes, but I look away, ignoring him. Once my breathing starts to even out, we both collapse on the warm sand. Blue’s from exertion, mine from weak lungs. I can’t help but feel guilty after watching him swim vigorously carrying dead weight and two surfboards.
