Surf & Surrender

by Riley Edgewood

  I laugh. "I have no clue."

  "At least let me have a hug," he says. "Friend to friend. Because I think you could use one."

  When I nod, he pulls me back in, tucking me against his chest. And I sit here, against him, and I breathe. And I breathe. And I breathe until tears swell behind my closed eyes and threaten to spill over. Because Sawyer. Jesus. Sawyer. Seeing him again makes me feel like every bone in my body's been replaced with something new. Something sweet and something painful.

  I pull back to wipe my eyes, ending the moment. "Thanks. I maybe needed that."

  Chase lifts a shoulder. "Anytime."

  Just as I unwrap myself from his arms and start to untangle myself from his lap—climbing back into my seat turns out to be a million times more awkward than climbing out—blue and red lights flash behind us. Followed by two short blips of a siren.

  I glance back and see a cop car stopped there. "We're not in a no-parking spot or anything, are we?" And when Chase doesn't answer, "You've only had, what, like a drink and a half, right? Wine at dinner and half a beer at the bonfire?"

  "Less than half." Chase is strangely terse, staring in his side-view mirror.

  "Don't worry," I say as the muffled sound of a car door shutting thumps behind us. "This isn't a big deal."

  A moment later, Chase curses. "You know how I told you my sister egged a cop's car?"

  "Yeah… Oh. Shit. Is this him?"

  "Yep."

  CHAPTER TEN

  QUINN

  "I'M SORRY ABOUT this." Chase rolls his eyes at me before turning to face the policeman standing by his window. "Is there a problem?"

  "Looks like it." The officer ducks down for a better view in the car. And I'll admit it. He's hot. I see what Chase's sister saw. Chiseled cheeks. Full lips. Strong brow. But his eyes are kind of mousy, and his expression's even more smug than the one Danny rocks most of the time. His tone is falsely bored. "You two should know better than to conduct yourselves this way in public."

  Oooh. He saw me on Chase's lap and assumed…pretty much what anyone else would assume.

  "How exactly do you think we were conducting ourselves?" Chase asks.

  The cop looks at him as if to say, please, you know exactly what you were doing. "Shame you chose to expose yourselves in such a publicly viewable location. Damn shame. Really. I'm going to have to take you in for public indecency."

  "Um, what?" I lean forward, catching his eyes. My stomach is a sinking ship. "We didn't…nothing was exposed. I swear, Officer…?"

  "Vincent," he answers. "Officer Vincent. Why don't you go ahead and—"

  "There was no public indecency," Chase says. "We were just talking."

  "Actually, I found you sitting here with your dick in your hands," he says, and then directs his beady gaze my way. "And you, sugar, really should put your shirt back on. Bra, too."

  I bite my tongue. Because I'm fully clothed, but I'm pretty sure if I tell him he's a fucking dumbass, we'll get in even more trouble. That drowning ship in my stomach explodes into jagged pieces, like this cop is a freaking iceberg. "Listen, Officer. We're really sorry. It won't happen again."

  "That's what I'm about to make sure of. Go ahead and step out of the car, please. Both of you."

  "Christ, Peter, this is illegal." Chase doesn't move, so I follow his cue. This entire situation just…doesn't feel real.

  "Sir, this is a public road. Anyone could've come upon you. Even a child. And then you'd be in even bigger trouble, trust me."

  Chase bristles. "Don't sir me. I'm sorry Carleigh egged your car. I'm sorry she left you. Maybe if you weren't a racist piece of shit, she would've stayed."

  Whoa. He's going all badass all of a sudden, but it's totally the wrong time for it. I put a hand on his leg, trying to calm him a little, whispering, "That's probably not helping."

  The cop's expression has gone completely stiff. Furious. "Get the fuck out of the car. Don't make me use force. Or…on second thought, go ahead."

  Make my day. At the most inappropriate time, I have the urge to giggle. Because I'm so tempted to complete the quote it almost slips from my tongue. I bite it back, but that damn giggle tumbles out.

  "You, too." He points at me. "Out. Now."

  Chase looks at me, an apology written all over his face. "I forgot that would affect you, too. Shit. Sorry."

  Officer Vincent cracks his knuckles. We scramble the hell out of the car.

  Which is how I end up in handcuffs, in the back of a freaking police cruiser. All for a kiss that meant nothing. Well, not nothing. It got me Chase, as a friend…I think. Still. I'm not, per se, a good girl. But I'm not a bad one either. I've never been in the back of a cop car. Not that it feels real yet. Maybe there's only so much shock a system can handle at once, and Sawyer's already taken more than I had to give.

  "Do you just drive around searching for me endlessly?" Chase asks. "I'll sue you for harassment. I'm sure it isn't the first time. You better believe my family has the best lawyer in the state."

  "Chase," I hiss. "Chill." Where's the nice guy who was hugging me just a few minutes ago?

  I guess he's not so nice when it comes to someone messing with his sister. Which makes me like him even more.

  Officer Vincent stares at us in the rearview mirror for a second. "Actually, we got a call about a beach fire a few blocks from here. Finding you on my way was just…very fortuitous." He laughs and I swear if he had a mustache he'd stroke it, evilly.

  Chase and I meet eyes. Shit. I hope Gianna is gone already. Wish my phone wasn't in my bag on the floor of Chase's car. But I'm sure it's too late at this point anyway. And I seriously doubt she already left—the circuit usually goes all night… Unless Danny being so awful made her want to leave… Hmm. For the first time, I think maybe him being such a complete ass could be beneficial.

  "Listen, sir, Officer Vincent, I mean… We're sorry for this confusion. I don't think it's necessary to take us all the way to the station. The lesson's totally been learned here," I plead in the most respectful tone I can muster. "I'm sorry I laughed before. I do that when I'm nervous—it wasn't at you."

  But he doesn't bother responding.

  Because this isn't about me laughing. It isn't about the law. It isn't about whether or not Chase and I were actually getting it on. This is all about his personal vendetta against Chase's sister. I thought I had it bad with Danny, but he's just a knucklehead who runs his mouth about ruining me because I caught him with someone else and told Gianna.

  This is way worse.

  It's finally sinking in. This is real. I'm in handcuffs. And not even for anything kinky. I'm in the back of a freaking cop car being hauled to the station.

  Fuuuuck.

  There's not a chance in hell this won't reach my mother somehow. I can only imagine what she'll say.

  I wish I didn't freaking care.

  The station is a weathered red brick building with a gray, rickety shingled roof and a half-empty lot in the front. My palms are sweating so much by the time we park I wonder if I could just slip out of the cuffs and make a run for it. But Officer Vincent took way too much pleasure in making sure these things were good and tight.

  When he steps out of the car to get us, Chase whispers, "Don't say anything else from this point forward. It doesn't matter when it's just him because he'll lie regardless. But around other people, keep your mouth shut, okay? Anything you say can get you in trouble for real."

  I nod, nerves waking up all along my skin. How is this real life right now?

  Officer Vincent walks us through the glass doors and down a hallway where we reach a blonde officer behind a desk. Chase and I stand a few feet behind.

  "Chrissy," he says, the flirtatious smile evident in his tone. "See you after your shift?"

  She twists her hair up with a pencil, a skill I've, admittedly, never mastered. "I'm off in twenty."

  "I'll be out as soon as I'm done booking these bozos."

  Booking us? Jesus. This is a disaster.
>
  She bats her eyes, and I come thisclose to exaggeratedly gagging. Like he knows, Chase elbows me. I roll my eyes at him and he bites back a smile. Guess we'll always have humor if nothing else.

  Then it all stops being funny.

  Because guess what happens next?

  We get freaking photographed. And fingerprinted.

  Like real criminals.

  And Officer Vincent shoves us in two seats in this huge booking area and threatens that he'll be right back. Not like we could go anywhere—there are four other cops sitting around in the space.

  "We really do have the best lawyer in the state," Chase whispers. "If it comes to that."

  "Thanks." But if it comes to that, my parents will throw their own ridiculously priced lawyer at the situation. Man, they are never, ever going to forgive me.

  In another section of the room, a large, shabby-looking man belches with an impressive volume. He grins at me. Or at Chase… At least in our direction. Pretty sure he's so drunk he can't really focus. At least I won't feel as bad as this guy will when I wake up tomorrow morning. Probably, anyway.

  Officer Vincent comes back a few minutes later, with a sandwich and a coffee. He sits at a table across from us, taking his time unwrapping the cellophane wrapper, rolling it into a ball, holding it over a trash can, dropping it in. He takes a huge bite, chews grossly, with his mouth open. Just watching us. Maybe I don't get what Chase's sister saw in him after all.

  I wish I had a water. The air in the station is dry and stale smelling. The inside of my mouth feels sticky. And a second later it parches completely.

  Because Chase tips his chin toward the entrance to the room and says, "Guess everyone's getting arrested tonight."

  My focus follows his chin. Straight to Danny, who's sneering at me through a shockingly bloodied face and a nose swollen to at least twice its regular size.

  Behind him?

  Only slightly less bloodied, is Sawyer.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  QUINN

  THIS HAS BEEN the most unsettling day.

  To put it lightly.

  In fact, I feel like this one day has stretched out for years. And I'm ending it in handcuffs, at a police station…and so is Sawyer.

  Chase and Danny and other officers and that one drunk-off-his ass dude are here, too, but they're all in the peripheral, and just barely. Because once Sawyer and I lock eyes, he's the only one I see.

  There's a shiner forming on his cheek and a dried trickle of blood extending from the corner of his mouth. I hate how much I long to go to him. Like four years haven't passed. Like he didn't break my heart. Like he still deserves for me to care about him. Because all I want to do right now is stroke his face, wipe away the blood. Comfort him. Ask what the hell happened with Danny. Though that's an easy answer. Danny happened.

  Sawyer's hair is as chaotic as it ever was, though I notice now, it's a darker blond than it used to be, and there's a hint of it peppering down his jawline. Five o'clock shadow, or whatever time it is right now. The boy I used to know is a man now. His face is more angular. His stance more defensive.

  His eyes, however, are as bright green as I've remembered. He uses them to stare back at me, and I wonder what he sees. I used to be able to read his expression as easily as looking in a mirror. Not anymore.

  Why did you leave me? Where have you been? It hurts, needing to know these things. The fresh round of curiosity picks off a long-closed scab and I'm bleeding uncontrollably, all over the place.

  "These the two little shits causing the scene at the beach fire?" Officer Vincent calls across the room to the cop with Sawyer.

  The other cop nods. "Yep. Yours from there, too?"

  "Nah. Caught this guy giving it to her real good in a car. In public."

  Sawyer's impassive expression opens straight into disgust. And, funnily enough, it's exactly like looking in a mirror this time. Because his feelings reflect my own. I want to shoot to my feet and head-butt Officer Vincent and call him the liar that he is, but Chase nudges me with his knee and his words are too fresh in my mind: anything I say here can get us in worse trouble. So I hang my head and study the worn blue carpet, digging my toes back and forth across the threadbare material, hating this stupid situation. Hating this stupid cop. Hating my stupid self for getting us—Chase and me, that is—into this mess.

  Who cares what Sawyer thinks? It's none of his business what I was, or in this case wasn't, doing with Chase in his car. Nobody. Nobody cares.

  Except…

  I really fucking care.

  I look up to him again, hoping to tell him with my expression that what he's just heard isn't true. But he's no longer watching me. He's walking away, following the cop, following Danny. Not a single backward glance in my direction.

  Inside, I fall to pieces.

  Chase nudges me again. This time I look at him, at the concern across his features. "It'll work out," he says.

  I don't know if he's talking about us being here at the station, or whatever he saw between Sawyer and me, or something completely different, but I cling to his words.

  Officer Vincent sits back across from us, taking casual bites of his sandwich, watching us watching him. His thing with Chase was already personal, but he just made it that way with me, too. And I can't even snark about it. Biting my tongue is not my style, but I don't want to make things harder for Chase.

  Or, okay, for me, either. I shift in my chair, my ass uncomfortable against the hard plastic seat.

  A second later, another cop storms into the room, barking, "Vincent."

  Chase's whispered word comes out almost a sigh. "Yes."

  "What?" I whisper back.

  He smiles, slyly. "I know him."

  "Luis. I thought you were off?" Officer Vincent shoots to his feet, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and standing a little straighter than I've seen so far. He's nervous, which makes me suddenly hopeful.

  The other cop strides toward us, crossing his arms when he gets to Officer Vincent. "That's Carleigh's brother."

  "Busted." I can't help it. The word just sings through my lips. But I wouldn't take it back even if I could.

  Neither cop acknowledges me, but within fifteen minutes, Luis is driving us back to Chase's car.

  "Sorry about that," he says when he drops us off. "Officer Vincent is having a bit of a rough time."

  "Please," I say. "That was total harassment."

  Chase looks at me, shrugging. "It's over now."

  I can't believe he's being so complacent about this. "Well, I'm not comfortable with my information being in the system now. Fingerprints and picture—like I'm actually a criminal, even though we weren't doing anything."

  Luis—or Officer Santiago, as he introduced himself—shakes his head. "Once it's been processed, which happens automatically, only a court order will remove it. I can get you the names of the best lawyers for it, if you'd like."

  Ugh. Lawyers. Parents. Law. Just…ugh. "Well, what about Officer Vincent? He doesn't get to get away with this, does he?"

  "It's no big deal," Chase says.

  And thank God I'm not into him, because any lady boner I had toward this guy would've been wilting so fast right now. "Yes, it is."

  Officer Santiago shakes his head again. "You can file a complaint, but then lawyers get involved and…if you really want to go down that road, I can take you through the steps. But it doesn't sound like you do."

  No. No lawyers. But it doesn't keep me from fuming. Not when he lets us out of his car and not on the silent ride home with Chase.

  Finally, I can't take it anymore. "What is your deal?"

  "Nothing." He doesn't meet my gaze, just watches out the windshield.

  "Chase. That cop's a complete prick, and you just let him get away with walking all over us. We're in the system now—and we're adults—this could really mess with our lives. Why don't you want to do something about it?"

  "We have information in the system, but we aren't connected to an
y crime. It won't affect anything."

  "How about your pride?"

  Now, at least, he flinches. "You might not care about your reputation, but I do. My family does. If we get involved with the law, it makes us look bad. My dad's business depends on how he's received."

  I'm stung. Because I don't know if he means my reputation in the community as an upstanding citizen ,or my reputation for…having fun. The kind Danny's so quick to flaunt. "You're in the right, though. That won't make anyone look bad. You should seek action."

  "It doesn't work like that."

  "Yes, it does."

  "Oh, really? And what about your dude? That Sawyer guy? Are you going to take action against whatever it is he did to you—because it's clear he did something. And so far it just seems like you're cowering about it."

  Stung twice over. "I'm not even going to dignify that with a response. It's not the same thing at all."

  I reach for the dashboard and turn on his sound system in time to catch the end of Gold Rush Standard's most recent hit, "My Apology." Lead singer Luca James's voice thrums through the air, and I try to concentrate on it instead of what Chase said.

  I shouldn't have left you there.

  I should have begged forgiveness.

  Sometimes nothing means anything and I forget how to feel

  Until you

  Twisted secrets.

  Covered lies.

  Somehow I let me ruin everything.

  Everything.

  Why'd you let me

  Let me ruin everything?

  This is my apology.

  My apology.

  For it all.

  Can't believe I let me let me

  Ruin it all.

  I usually love this song, but I'm too frustrated to enjoy it at the moment.

  Now, on top of everything, I'm thinking of apologies. And how Sawyer owes me a pretty freaking huge one.

  And how Chase is maybe kind of sort of just a little bit right. I've been cowering.