Her mom is gone. I remember that much. "You miss her?"
"A lot." She takes a long sip of her tea. Lets out another soft moan. "What exactly is it we're doing today?"
"Surfing."
A laugh escapes her lips. "Of course. That's perfect."
"I'm not that laid back."
"Yeah, you are. You might as well write nothing bothers me on your forehead."
"You've got me pegged."
She imitates me. "Now, I'll return the favor, sunshine." She makes a show of winking. And throwing out a dorky thumbs-up gesture.
This time, her laugh spreads over her chest and torso. She pulls her hand over her stomach as she doubles over.
Fuck, it's adorable.
And hot.
But I play my part. "That hurts, Chloe."
"Yeah?"
"I'll never be clever enough for a comeback like that. Don't rub it in my face."
"Uh-huh." Her laugh gets louder. Heartier. "I hate to step on your dreams, but I know how to surf."
"So?"
"Aren't you trying to teach me something?" She takes her last sip. Sets her cup down.
Maybe. But it's not surfing. It's something deeper. There's a bright woman under the layers of black.
I want to bring her out.
Not 'cause there's anything wrong with Chloe's scowl or her clothes or her attitude.
Because I want to show her the beauty in the world.
'Cause I want to make her smile like this again and again.
Because she hates me.
Because she bites back.
Because she wears her misery on her sleeve.
This girl is under my skin.
It's fucking weird.
I take my last sip. "You ready?"
"Sure." She moves forward. "Are we walking or driving?"
"You up for a walk?"
She nods.
I grab my surfboard. Hand it to her. "Thanks. Carry this."
She wraps both arms around it. "Is that a challenge?"
I offer my best effortless shrug.
Fire fills her eyes as she lifts the board. It's way too big for her, but she holds it against her side like it's a tiny scrap.
She's strong. Or good at pretending.
I take it back. It's fun baiting Chloe, but I can't let her ride that board. It will swallow her whole. "It's too big for you. We'll rent one."
"What about you?"
"I'm coach today."
"The point of this is you saying goodbye to your hobby."
"Is it?"
Her smile is sly. It's there, in her eyes. Of course not. We both know you're full of shit. I want to hate it. But I kind of like it. "I can handle the board," she says.
"I thought you knew how to surf."
"I do."
"Then you should know that board is way too big for you. You're barely five feet tall. Still can't believe you spar with Ryan."
"He's only got ten inches on me."
I raise a brow. "Fuck, Chloe. Don't let Leighton find that out."
She shakes her head you're ridiculous. Her nose scrunches as she looks up at me. "Really? Ten inches?"
I nod.
"How do you know?"
"Massive cocks run in the family."
"Even if that were true—"
"If? You gonna pretend like you haven't tested the equipment?"
"I didn't bring a ruler."
"You can take my word for it."
She shakes her head. "Everyone knows guys exaggerate about their height and their size."
God, she really is a tiny package of fire. I've never had a thing for short girls, but there's something about Chloe. I want to wrap my arms around her. To consume her.
"Which means you're only nine inches," she says.
"Only nine?"
"You're right. You're Dean. You exaggerate twice as much as normal. Only eight. Maybe even under seven."
"Eight gets an only?"
She nods.
"That's the size of your arm."
"No…" She holds out her arm, spreads her fingers wide. "This is at least a foot."
"Want to compare?"
"No."
"You can see my Prince Albert."
Her pupils dilate. It's a quick second, then it's gone. "Not interested."
I don't argue with her. It's not good for mission don't fuck Chloe. This probably isn't either. But I can't help myself. "Could you take me?"
"Really?"
"In karate?"
"Oh. Yeah. Sure."
"Show me something."
"I don't want to hurt you."
"I don't believe that."
She smirks. "Fine. Aikido is based around not hurting your attacker. But… shit happens."
"Of course.
"I'm not going easy on you."
"I'm counting on it." I move into the empty area in the middle of the room, between the couch and the TV. Motion come here.
"This is about self-defense. Not about proving something to you."
"Of course." We both know she's doing it because I baited her, but I keep that to myself.
She moves into the main room. Places herself three feet from me. Fire fills her eyes as she looks up at me. "On three, go. Attack me. I'll fend you off."
I nod.
She counts. "One, two, three."
I lunge at her.
She ducks out of the way. Darts behind me.
I turn. Reach for her.
She's too small. Too fast. Too short. She bounces off the couch. Gets behind me.
I reach back. Grab something. Get her tank top.
My arm finds its way around her throat.
Her gasp isn't fear.
It's a yes, just like that, harder, please.
It's a quick second.
It steals every bit of my attention.
I forget that we're sparring.
That I haven't figured out if I'm going to let her win or give it my all.
My thoughts go straight to Chloe under me.
She leans forward. Bends, Takes me with her.
Chloe flips me over her head.
I hit the carpet with a thud.
She dusts her hands off. Mimes a no sweat. "Told you."
I can't help but smile. Proud looks good on her.
It's the same as back in high school. I want to push her to be better. So she'll push me to be better.
I want the competition. The banter. The fire.
Nobody has ever pushed my buttons the way she does.
Usually, my buttons are too far out of reach. Nobody even tries to push them. Nobody thinks I give a shit. Nobody thinks I'm worth challenging.
Nobody but Chloe.
Chapter Ten
Dean
I stop at a red light. Look both ways. Cross and motion for her to follow.
She does.
A car whizzes by as we step onto the curb. It honks. The driver looks out the window with a what are you, crazy?
I wave back hell yeah. "You graduated six years ago."
"Accurate."
"When did you finish UCLA?"
"Two years ago."
"So…"
"So?" She raises a brow, trying and failing to look aloof. Her jaw cricks. Her eyes turn down. Her Fingers curl into fists.
"What have you been doing?"
"Life."
"Life?"
"Yeah." She stops at the next street. Looks both ways. Crosses.
I follow her onto the sandy sidewalk. This is it. Venice Beach at its most beautiful. The sky is white. Soft. The puffy clouds diffuse the sunlight.
A hundred feet of dry sand. The crashing ocean. Surfers jumping onto a small wave.
Chloe steps onto the sand. She looks down at her feet with surprise. Shakes it off. Steps forward.
She keeps her back to me.
Whatever it is that knocked her off course, she doesn't want to talk about it.
I want to know.
I want to pry her open. Peel b
ack her walls. Figure out why she's always frowning.
"I, um. I mostly just worked and went to school. There's nothing to talk about." She steps out of her sandals. Digs her toes into the sand.
She's drifting off someplace ugly.
It's something serious.
And serious…
Not my strong suit.
Even so. I want to know. I want to wipe the hurt from her expression. To hold her and promise it will be okay.
It's weird.
Really fucking weird.
I retreat to what I do best. "You fuck a lot too?"
"Huh?"
"You must have cleaned up at the Doc Marten store."
She turns to me. Throws her hand over her eyes to block out the sun. It's not enough. She squints. "Cleaned up?"
"You must have had punk guys leaving their phone numbers."
"No." Her laugh breaks up the tension in her jaw. "Punk guys are like other guys. They also want the blond cheerleaders."
"I don't believe you."
"You should." She turns to the water. "Where are we setting up?"
"Let's get closer."
She nods and steps forward. With every step, she scrunches her toes, feeling the rough warmth of the sand. Her expression twists with this mix of surprise and delight.
It's enthralling.
"I had a boyfriend most of the time I worked there," she says.
"Did he have a Mohawk?"
She laughs. "No. He was clean cut. Liked good girls."
"You're a good girl."
She drops her backpack on the sand. Drops to her knees next to it. She keeps her back to me, her gaze on the ocean. "How do you figure?"
I move next to her. "How many guys have you fucked?"
She flips me off, but it's good humored. She's smiling.
"That many or that few?"
"Shut up."
"No shame in racking 'em up."
Her eyes light up as she turns to me. Back to fire. To challenging me. Pushing my buttons. "Wouldn't I be getting in on your turf?"
"Sunshine, there's no way you're anywhere near my turf."
"How many women?"
"I can't count that high."
She laughs. "You don't…" Her nose scrunches. "You don't really try to sleep with women for the sake of racking up conquests?"
"Fuck no. That kind of long-term goal setting is way beyond my abilities."
"Uh-huh."
I nod.
She shakes her head. "Then why so many women?"
"Why so few guys?"
"I had a boyfriend. He was—"
"Ouch."
"Not ouch. Just—"
"Your tone. It's bad." I take a cross-legged seat next to her.
She shakes her head as she leans back on her heels. "Maybe I'm bitter about the breakup."
"Maybe he's a terrible lay."
She half smiles. "What's it to you? Don't you… What are we?"
"You tell me."
"I hate you."
"You like me."
She shakes her head.
"Then why are you here?"
"You gave me a choice."
"If you hated me, you'd have done the shitty tattoo."
"Maybe." Her gaze goes to the ocean. "Where does that leave us?
"We're rivals."
"Rivals." She bites her lip. "I guess that's about right. Well, dick face—"
"You keep calling me that, I'm gonna get hard."
She rolls her eyes. "I'm sure you've never stuck around long enough to realize this, but when you're with someone for a while it can get stale."
"Ex wasn't creative?"
"This is really none of your business."
"Not holding a gun to your head." I want all of Chloe's secrets. But I don't want to take them. I want her to give them to me.
The breeze rolls over us. This is a perfect beach day. Warm sun. Gentle breeze. Salty air. Quiet scenery. In a few hours, this place will be a mob scene. But right now? It's perfect.
She turns to me. Brushes my bangs from my eyes. "Your client was right."
"About?"
"You have an emo haircut."
"You like it."
She shakes her head, but it does nothing to hide her smile.
"You're right. I've never stuck around with anyone."
"Why not?"
"Why'd you leave your ex?"
"Is this one of your games?"
"Sure, yeah."
She leans back on her elbows. Looks up at the sky. "Aren't we here to surf?"
"Say the word. I'll grab a rental board."
Her eyes get hazy. Dreamy. "How does the game work?"
"Truth for truth."
She nods. "Okay. Deal. But you first." She looks up at me. "Why don't you stick around?"
"It's easier."
She shakes her head. "I need a deeper dig than that."
I scratch my head. "Sunshine, you've made me forget my point completely."
"That's not an answer. Why is it easier? What is it you want or don't want?"
"I want to come."
"If it was just that, you'd fuck yourself. Nothing easier than that."
She's got me there.
"You… you went through the effort to seduce me."
"I liked you."
"But I'm sure… are you telling me you don't try to seduce women?"
Try is the wrong word, but I do make an effort. "I show women a good time."
"And it starts when you meet them. Not when you take their clothes off."
"Yeah."
"So what's easy about that? Let me tell you, as someone who's had both… casual hookups and relationships. A relationship is a lot easier if your goal is getting laid on the regular."
"Is that why you were with—"
"Alex. No. I loved him. Well, I thought I did. Now… I don't know." Her gaze shifts to the ocean. "I loved the guy I thought he was. But he wasn't that guy."
"How?"
"It's still your answer."
I don't actively think about why I do anything I do. Fucking a different woman every night is fun. It's a thrill. A challenge. A hobby even.
I leave because that's all I want.
One night. One time. No emotional attachments.
I don't hurt them.
They don't hurt me.
"I don't want anyone getting attached," I say.
"You or them?"
"Both."
"Ah." Her eyes light up with epiphany. "Dick face does have feelings."
"Don't tell anyone."
She pulls an imaginary zipper over her lips. Catches herself doing it. "Fuck, that's your gesture isn't it."
"Yeah, but—" I copy the gesture.
She laughs. Pushes herself up enough to play swat me. "Do you ever sleep with the same woman more than once?"
"Yeah. Sometimes. If I'm sure we're on the same page."
"Is that easier?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"Feelings always get involved."
"And you're afraid of intimacy?"
Something twists in my gut. Something I don't like. "You're gonna have to dumb that down for me, sunshine."
"Hmm."
"Hmm?"
"You got defensive. That must be it."
"You studying psychology?"
"Just Psych 101 in college. I'm sure you've never experienced this, but… when you spend a lot of time sitting out dances, watching everyone else, you get to be pretty good at reading people."
"It's your turn."
"It is." She stares at the sparkling blue ocean. The sun breaks through a cloud. Casts light over the azure water, the beige sand, the white and red lifeguard stand. "Alex was pretty good. Neither one of us was all that experienced when we started. We learned together. He made an effort. But we both got complacent. Fell into a routine. I guess you could say the passion died."
"How long did that take?"
"Six months or so."
Fuck, that's an eternit
y. "How long were you together?"
"Three years."
"Why'd he leave?"
She shakes her head. "It's my turn."
"Shoot."
"No." She shifts onto her knees. "I think it's time to hit the water."
"I won't forget it's your turn."
"I know."
Chapter Eleven
Dean
I drop the rental surfboard next to Chloe. "You know how to do a pop-up?"
She pushes herself to her feet. "Yeah."
"Show me."
"Is this a challenge?"
No. It's safety. So she doesn't fall off the board and break her neck. But that isn't the way to push her. "Show me."
"You don't believe me?"
"Just show me."
"Fine." Irritation flares in her expression. It fades to that fire in her dark eyes.
She steps onto the board. Drops to her stomach. "This is barely smaller than your surfboard."
She's right, but, I can't say I'm disappointed. Being board-free leaves us with a lot of options for what we do after this. "You want to prove you can do it or you want to sass me?"
"Sass you."
"Then carry on."
"You can't make me surf."
"I know."
"Oh. Good." She looks to the teal board. Places her hands next to her chest. In one seamless motion, she jumps to a perfect surfing stance. "I know what I'm doing."
"When did you last surf?"
"Um…"
"That recently?"
She flips me off.
I blow her a kiss.
She laughs. Waves it away. Ducks to avoid it.
"Humor me," I say.
She tilts her head to one side. "My life is humoring you." The hurt in her voice is gone. It's all fire. She isn't thinking about her ex or whatever it is that knocked her off track. She's here with me.
It feels good, having her attention. Watching delight spread over her face. Maybe a huge part of Chloe hates me. But she loves the way she hates me. She loves teasing back. "Do five more."
"I'm doing them because they're a good idea."
"Uh-huh."
"Not because you said."
"What's scarier—me having a good idea or you doing what I say?"
"Good question." She drops to her stomach. "I'm getting used to the latter."
"Are you?"
"I worked with you twice this week."
"And?"
Hating You, Loving You Page 9
