Lawless

by Ward, Tracey

  The roof rack is empty. Lawson didn’t bring a board with him today.

  I scowl at the car, then at him. The car again. The ocean, as though that bipolar bitch can give me any answers, but no one is talking. No one speaks up to explain why Lawson brought me out here today with absolutely no intention of surfing. He’s not even wearing his board shorts! I guess it explains why he wasn’t concerned at all with hanging in my mom’s kitchen for an hour playing Paula Dean.

  I came out here to be with you.

  “No,” I scold myself, stopping the thought before it starts. It’s a dangerous one. It can take me down a path I’ll be walking alone. One I’ll look up from someday thinking I was on my way to paradise and realize I’ve trekked down into hell.

  You, Rachel Mason, are quickly becoming my favorite person on the planet.

  “Dammit.”

  I head down to the beach. I kick off my shoes and leave them where they fall, sinking into the cool wet sand and heading straight for the surf. It halts me at its edge, whispering over my toes and sifting the sand out from under my feet. I sink lower. I fall deeper, and I’m barely breathing as I stand there.

  I’ve been so afraid all summer, but as I look at the ocean I wonder what it really was I’ve been scared of. Boston and money, the heat and the ache in my leg – was it all that kept me awake at night? I thought it was, but now I’m not so sure.

  Boston is weeks away, the morning is cool and clear, and I’m still shaking scared.

  “You lost your shoes.”

  I turn to find him standing just behind me, my sandals hanging loosely from his fingers. He looks so good. So beautiful and casual, so right in his frayed cargo shorts and his faded T.

  It makes me so fucking afraid.

  “Take me home, Lawson,” I tell him thickly.

  His brow falls, darkening his eyes. “Why?”

  “Because I can’t keep doing this with you.”

  “Doing what?”

  “Spending time with you. Sleeping with you. I thought I could handle letting it be just a fling, but I can’t. I…” I breathe in slowly, calming my aching heart. “I didn’t know you and I do now and I can’t handle it. I can’t handle you. You’re… goddammit, you’re too much. You’re so much more than I thought you were and it’s too much to walk away from but I have to.”

  He drops my shoes and stares at me placidly, his chest rising and falling in an unnervingly even rhythm, unreadable emotions flooding his eyes.

  “What have I ever done that would make you think this was just a fling for me?”

  “Nothing,” I whisper, realizing it’s true. He never did anything to make me think this wasn’t genuine.

  Nothing but be Lawson Daniel.

  “I spend almost every day with you,” he reminds me. “I haven’t so much as looked at another girl since the night we hooked up. I told you shit that I’ve never told anyone. Things I swore I’d never talk about.”

  “I know. I’m sorry.”

  “I don’t want you to be sorry, Rachel. I want you to be real with me. I want you to look at this, at us, and honestly think about it. What do you want from me? ‘Cause I’m here,” he says, spreading his arms open wide. “I’m asking and I’m giving. This isn’t a front and it’s not a fling. I’m willing to go the distance with you ‘cause I love you.”

  I stare at him, my face openly shocked. My jaw is on the floor and my head is buzzing with so much static I can’t have heard him right.

  “What did you say?” I ask slowly.

  “I love you,” he repeats, not the least bit sorry or ashamed. He drops his arms at his sides, his palms making a smart smack against his legs. “And just so there’s no more confusion between us, I’ll give it to you straight – I’m in love with you.”

  My eyes sting with salt and sweet sorrow. With the fear that’s been building and bursting and is now brought to the surface, buoyed by his words and his honest eyes. It rises from the cold depths of the ocean floor and bursts into the air, trembling with life and an unthinkable joy.

  “I love you too,” I confess, my throat constricting around the words. Hugging them and holding them before letting them go to him. Before giving them up forever. “I’m in love with you too.”

  “Then quit trying to dump me, would you?”

  I laugh shakily. “I’ll try. I just… I’m scared.”

  He takes hold of me, pulling me close. “Me too. I’ve never been in love before.”

  “Me either.”

  “So I’m you’re first?”

  “Looks like it.”

  “And you’re mine.”

  He pulls back slightly, looking down into my eyes and I want to leave the moment as it is. I want to swim in those perfect pools of green forever, but I know that I can’t. I can’t keep avoiding everything, hoping it will go away.

  “I leave in three weeks,” I remind him reluctantly.

  “Take me with you.”

  I chuckle, burying my sadness under the sound. “There’s no surfing in Boston.”

  “Savages.”

  “Let’s hope not.”

  Lawson’s hold on me tightens. “Don’t go,” he says seriously.

  My heart halts in my chest as he gives life to the want in my blood. “I have to,” I protest weakly.

  He sighs, pulling me close again until my head is resting on his shoulder and his chin on the top of my head. The ocean plays at our feet, happy and alive, but we stand perfectly still in the midst of it, clinging to each other as the unmistakable ticking of time echoes on the wind. As our moment steadily winds down around us.

  “We lived our entire lives within five miles of each other,” he mumbles thoughtfully. “We went to the same schools, the same parties. We know all of the same people, so why now? Why did we have to wait until you’re leaving to really see each other?”

  “Bad timing, I guess.”

  He snorts unhappily. “Story of my life.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Lawson is competing in the Vans US Open in Huntington Beach the next week. It’s a World Qualifying Series event, meaning if he wins, he not only takes home prize money that counts toward his ranking for a bid at the ASP World Tour but he earns points that help him as well. He won the Shoe City Pro down by the pier on this same beach back in January, taking home $6,000 and a thousand points. That sounds like a lot of money but when you take into consideration the fact that the next three qualifying events were in Australia, then Hawaii, Argentina, Tahiti, and Martinique before coming stateside again, it doesn’t come out to much. In fact it ends up being too little which is why a lot of great surfers can’t make it to the World Tour. They don’t have the money to make it to the events, pay for lodging, and entrance fees. And even if you get there, there’s no guarantee you’ll win a purse. Lawson was at the Oakley Lowers Pro in San Clemente back in April but he didn’t win. He barely placed. Bad fog, bad waves.

  Bad timing.

  “What day does your flight leave?” Katy asks me as we weave through the crowds.

  There are tents set up everywhere with vendors, competitors, and spectators. The place is packed. It’s a madhouse, one I’m not even sure we’ll be able to find Lawson in until he takes to the water but Katy and I keep trying anyway.

  “I don’t know yet,” I mumble vaguely, half hoping she can’t hear me over the crowd and the boom of the announcers on the loudspeakers.

  “What do you mean you don’t know yet?” she shouts.

  “I mean I haven’t bought my ticket yet!”

  “What happened? I thought you saved up enough money for one.”

  “I did.”

  “So what happened?”

  “Nothing.”

  She pulls on my arm, stopping me in the crowd and turning me to face her. People bump into us, pushing past, but I ignore them as she holds me steady with her serious stare. “You wanna tell me what your deal is before we get there or are you going to start keeping secrets from me?”

  I cringe, bi
ting back the truth about Aaron. I’ve been doing that a lot lately. It feels like lying. It feels wrong.

  “I told him I love him,” I tell her quickly and quietly. “Right after he told me he loves me.”

  “Holy fucking shit. When?”

  “A week ago.”

  “And you’re only telling me now?”

  “I’ve been trying to figure out what it means.”

  “It means you’re in love, dummy.”

  “Yeah, but what about me leaving?”

  “So you love him from Boston,” she tells me like it’s obvious. Like it’s all so simple. “Long distance relationships aren’t doomed if it’s the right people. Do you trust him?”

  “I do. I trust him completely.”

  “Then what’s the problem?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Well, then that’s what it all means. It means you love him, you trust him, and you go to school.”

  “No,” I tell her clearly. “The fact that I don’t know is the problem. I don’t know what I want to do. I don’t know if I want to go and risk it or stay and give us a shot. We’re so new it feels dicey flying across the country and putting that kind of distance between us.”

  She scowls at me. “But that’s your life. The NEC is what you’ve been building to for the last fifteen years. It’s your dream. You can’t throw it away over a summer romance.”

  “If it’s my dream then why haven’t I practiced all summer?”

  She takes a half step back, as though I shoved her. “You haven’t? You always practice. Every day.”

  “Not since the accident. I’ve practiced maybe three times this summer.”

  “You’re kidding me.”

  I swallow thickly, my nerves jittering in my limbs with a weird electricity as I realize that no, I’m not kidding. I rarely let myself think about it, but it’s true. I’ve barely touched a piano all summer. I’ve sat on beaches morning, noon, and night. I’ve spent hours working in a surf shop in Malibu. I’ve been on a surf board in the ocean that nearly killed me, but I haven’t spent more than six hours on a piano bench. I immersed myself in Lawson, got lost in him, and I never took a second to think about the fact that I was using him to hide from myself. To hide from my future.

  It doesn’t mean I don’t genuinely love Lawson. It doesn’t mean I don’t want with my whole heart to stay here with him. It doesn’t even mean I have a better understanding of what it is I need to do in two weeks when I’m supposed to be Boston bound, but it does mean I need to take some time to figure it all out. And I need to do it on my own.

  Of course it’s then that I spot him. He’s in a tent with Wyatt only thirty feet away, his body hidden under a competition jersey but I know it by heart. I know him by heart, and the thought of leaving him soon makes me breathless. I feel the way I did on the beach with Katy months ago, saying goodbye and wanting to take every ounce of California summer sun with me that I could. I want to absorb Lawson into my skin – his touch, his smell, his voice, his heart – and know it’s with me wherever I go. How can a person leave something so beautiful behind? How can you kiss the coast goodbye and never know if you’ll see it again?

  “Rachel,” Katy says emphatically. It doesn’t sound it’s the first time she’s said it.

  I snap my eyes back to hers, coming out of my stupor. “I don’t know,” I tell her solidly. “I don’t know what I’m going to do but I’m going to figure it out.”

  “When? ‘Cause the clock is ticking here.”

  “I know that. I’ll decide soon. Just not here. Not today.”

  Katy’s eyes soften sadly. “You can’t put your life off forever, Rach.”

  “Yeah, well, neither can you.”

  I regret it the second I say it. True as it may be, it shouldn’t have been said. Definitely not by me.

  Her mouth tightens at the edges. “You’re talking about Aaron.”

  “Aren’t we always talking about Aaron? Even when you won’t say his name, it’s who we’re talking about. It’s who you’re thinking about.”

  “It’s not the same thing. Not even close.”

  “You’re right,” I concede wholeheartedly. “You’re absolutely right, but you of all people have to see where I’m coming from. You have to understand why I’m scared to leave him and Isla Azul behind. If I go away…” I sigh, feeling my eyes sting with harsh tears and truths. “If I go away nothing will be the same when I come back.”

  Katy laughs. “Are you for real? Of course it’ll be the same. Nothing in Isla Azul ever changes.”

  “That’s not true and you know it.”

  “Okay,” she agrees, her smile fading instantly. “You’re right. Things changed for me when Aaron left, but what do you expect? You’ll go away for a year and come back to find the place deserted? I’m not going anywhere and if the last few years have been any indication, neither is Law.”

  “Do you promise you and Lawson won’t replace me with some skinny rando bitch?”

  Katy laughs, pulling me into a tight hug. “I solemnly swear to only hang with familiar fat bitches while you’re gone. And I won’t like any of them, I promise.”

  I smile, hugging her hard. “I love you.”

  “I love you too.” She pulls back, looking at me sternly. “But you better figure your shit out. And fast, or I’m going to take drastic action.”

  “Like what?” I chuckle. “Send another shark after me?”

  She swats at me, turning to lead us toward Lawson and Wyatt. “Too soon, you jerk.”

  “It’s been months.”

  “It could be years. I’ll never get it over it. But I’m proud of you for managing it.”

  “Couldn’t have done it without Lawson.”

  “Yeah,” she agrees thoughtfully. “He’s a lifesaver.”

  Lawson laughs when he sees Katy and I, motioning us closer and meeting us halfway. He kisses me immediately, light and sunny, and pulls Katy into a short hug. It surprises all of us, not because the boys don’t love Katy like she’s their own but because Lawson has kept his distance since his brother disappeared. This show of affection is a testament to how high he flies when he’s competing. Or when he’s in love.

  Wyatt hugs Katy as well, a little too long but I still think it’s not long enough. She laughs awkwardly when he finally lets her go but her cheeks are pink. Pinker than the heat can take credit for.

  “When are you up?” I ask Lawson.

  “Soon.” He points to the waves where surfers are already out. “We’ve been watching the water breaking. Checking out where the biggest waves are coming in.”

  “He’s judged by what maneuvers he does on the wave,” Wyatt explains, “and how difficult they are, how powerful, where they’re positioned on the wave, but they also consider the size of the wave he surfs.”

  “So the bigger the wave, the bigger the score?” I ask.

  Lawson waves his hand back and forth in a so-so motion. “Kind of. Big or small, it all comes down to how well I ride it.”

  “But you ride like a god.”

  He smiles slyly. “That’s why I’m gonna win.”

  “Are there pros here?”

  “Yeah. A few,” he shrugs, unconcerned.

  “And that doesn’t worry you?”

  “Do you want it to?” Wyatt asks, his tone tight.

  Lawson only laughs. “Why would it? They don’t control how I surf. I do.”

  I grin, pointing to his familiar white board. To Layla. “Well, and her.”

  “And you,” he amends, slinging his arm over my shoulder and pulling me close to his side.

  We watch more of the competition from under the tent with him, but it’s not long before he’s up. He kisses me ‘for luck’ and runs out into the surf with Layla by his side, another guy running into the water not far from him. I wait with a churning stomach for him to find his first wave, the time clock running down on his thirty minutes. That’s all the time he has to ride as many waves as he can as perfectly as he can in
order to impress the judges and move on to the next heat.

  I frown when the other guy finds a wave before him.

  “He’s already in the quarterfinals,” Wyatt tells us, though no one asked. He’s watching Lawson intently. He’s nervous, I can see it in his stance. “This is the second day of the event and he’s already beat just about everybody. It’s just him, a few pros, and some other amateurs.”

  “Do we need to worry about any of the amateurs?” Katy asks.

  “Yeah.” Wyatt nods to the guy in the water with Lawson. “Adriano Manello. He almost won the Oakley Lowers Pro. Lawson didn’t finish the quarterfinals of that one. The guy is good.”

  “Lawson is better,” I reply confidently.

  “You’ve never seen Manello compete.”

  “I don’t have to know Manello. I know Lawson. He’ll win.”

  The echo of the loudspeakers and the theft of the wind makes it almost impossible to understand what they announcers are saying as Lawson finds his first wave. Luckily Wyatt has an app up on his phone that’s broadcasting the commentary, bringing it to us with a small delay but way clearer.

  “As always Daniel comes out with a big opening turn, throwing tons of spray… Oh! He carved it right in front of Manello!”

  Wyatt chuckles, shaking his head.

  “Why is that funny?” I ask.

  He shrugs. “’Cause Manello’s a dick.”

  I watch patiently as Lawson cuts through the wave, keeping just ahead of the curl and riding high on the break where he snaps his board hard, sending white spray in a brilliant arc up into the air. If it’s power they’re looking for, they found it. He swings down, kicks back up, and sprays over and over again, changing up his style but always in control. Always riding in the tightest part of the wave.

  “…lofty backside air…” the announcers continue. “And he lands it, clean and clear. Looks like a backside snap as this wave is winding down, but tell it to Daniel because he’s sticking with it. Milking it for all it’s worth with a forehand snap on the right… and he’s done. Solid performance by Lawson Daniel. Really the kind of thing we’ve come to expect from this guy and every year he delivers. Strong competitor giving us aerial maneuvers with almost every turn.”