Don’t let me hurt him.
Jax
All I could think about was Rosalyn. She had drunk too much at the concert, and I was worried about her ankle. I planned to go over to her house that afternoon and check on her, but first, I needed to surf so I’d be relaxed.
After school, I raced down to Sunset Cliffs, and it was epic. The waves were double overhead. Freaking Awesome! I crouched over my board on the beach making crisscross motions with surf wax on my pointy, sleek, high-performance surfboard. Scanning the ocean, watching set after set of perfect waves pound the point, my heartbeat sped up.
“Dude,” one of the locals said as he zipped up his wetsuit.
I looked up at him, the sun blocked out by his body. “What’s up, bro?”
“Fucking gnarly out there. You got your leash?” He strapped his surfboard leash around his ankle.
I went without a leash as often as possible because I thought they made a surfer lazy. In the big stuff, though, sometimes you had no choice. “Nah.”
“You’re one bad mother fucker,” he said. “Hey, I been meaning to ask you, who’s that hot chick you been bringing down to the beach? You know, the one with that crazy wild blond hair.”
“You mean Rosalyn?”
“Guess so. The one you been teaching to surf.”
“Yeah, that’s my mom’s friend, Rosalyn.”
He snorted with laughter, slapped his hand on his thigh and said, “Dude, you gotta be shittin’ me. You mean to tell me she’s your mom’s friend, like, all older and stuff?”
My protective hackles went up. I stood up.
“Yes.”
“What the hell’s she doing hanging out with you? Chick’s a freakin’ babe.”
“You better watch your mouth, buddy.”
“Oh yeah? If my mom had a friend who looked like that, I’d watch my mouth. I’d watch it move all over that sweet body of hers, then I’d—”
My face felt hot and my muscles tensed. I cracked my knuckles. “You’d what?”
He grinned a lecherous grin that I wanted to wipe right off his face.
“I’d bend her over and—”
I swung so hard, he didn’t have a chance to protect himself. There was a surprised look on his face along with a terrible crunching sound. His head jerked back, and blood spurted out of his nose.
“Fuckin’, what the fuck?” He fell back onto the sand, his hands over his face.
I grabbed my board, anger swelling in my body, my eyes blinded by rage. “Stay away from her you moron.” I stormed off, sprinting for the ocean.
I paddled furiously out to the lineup. How dare he talk about Rosalyn that way? How dare he look at her body the way he had and think the thoughts he’d been thinking? Rage mixed with testosterone surged through my body as I paddled into the crowded lineup and got myself into a priority position amidst the throng of surfers. Surfer’s etiquette deemed that everybody take turns on the waves, but I was a man possessed that day, dropping into wave after glassy wave.
One surfer dropped into a wave in front of me and I shoved him out of the way. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw his surfboard twirl up into the air before smacking down onto the angry ocean. “Don’t cut me off!” I yelled above the pounding of the waves.
When I reached the end of my ride, my nostrils flared. I turned my board around and paddled quickly back to the lineup.
“What’s gotten into you, dude?” one of the locals said. “Ever hear of giving the rest of us some waves?”
When the next wave rolled through, I paddled hard, my muscles burning. Another surfer had the right of way and paddled for the same wave, but I dropped into the wave in front of him. When I returned to the lineup, his face was a mask of anger. “You cut me off one more time, Priest, and I’m gonna—”
“You’re gonna what?” Looking over my shoulder, I paddled hard for the next wave. When he saw the look of ferocity on my face, he backed off. I would never say this in front of the local surfers, but the truth was I was the best one out there. Usually I was all about sharing waves. On that day, if anyone had crossed me, I would’ve pulverized them. I knew it wasn’t right, but a man was allowed to have a jealous fit every now and then, right? That thought made me smile because I couldn’t remember ever having felt like that about anyone. So that’s what it felt like to care about a woman.
The next wave I rode, I tucked into the tube, grabbed the rail, and felt that familiar eerie sensation of calm that only comes with the magic of an epic surf session. My stomach leapt into my throat for a second, then my heart exploded with joy. Pleasure spread through my system like a drug. My feet gripped the deck of the board as salt water sprayed my face. I blinked the cold, invigorating water out of my eyes as the ocean rushed underneath me. As I glided in the tube, my right hand caressed the wave, my fingers soaking up the energy of the sea. Turquoise water spilled over the top of my board, and it felt like I was the only person on the planet. Just me, the power of the ocean, my surfboard and my body that I’d trained so hard for days like that.
A few hours into the session, my body finally relaxed, endorphins singing happily through my system. I paddled out to the lineup again, and feeling more gracious, told one of the newer surfers, “Your wave,” as the next set came through.
Surfing was always the thing that saved me. When I was sad or lonely or depressed or yes, angry like I was that day, surfing, and especially the thrill of the bigger waves, made everything fade into the background.
When I rode my final wave into shore, I kicked out and saw Rosalyn sitting on the beach. My surfboard flipped up in front of me, and I grabbed it with both hands, then tucked it under my arm, scraping my wet hair back.
Rosalyn was there! My mind raced with fantasies: she loved me, she wanted me, she couldn’t wait to tear my clothes off. My pulse quickened, a wide grin on my face.
I sauntered toward her.
Rosalyn
The day after the concert, I woke up with a hangover. After I fed Leo, I limped down to the beach to practice yoga because that always cured whatever ailed me. The morning was cool and crisp, and when I saw the ocean, I gasped and covered my mouth. The waves were the biggest I’d ever seen. The whitewater slammed wildly against the shore then jumped up ten to twelve feet.
Jax would be at school. It would’ve been like me to play hooky if I were in his shoes, but I knew him well enough to know that he didn’t like getting into trouble. There was no doubt that he’d dash down to surf as soon as the school bell rang.
Watching the waves, my mind flashed to the times I’d wiped out, unable to catch a breath, certain the violent wave would pin me to the bottom of the ocean where I’d see stars, pass out, and inhale a lungful of salty seawater.
I couldn’t look at the ocean without thinking of Jax and I couldn’t think of Jax without feelings of guilt washing over me. I’d avoided having a serious talk with him at the concert. The throbbing bass line of the music made conversation difficult, and I’d gotten so drunk, I didn’t think I would’ve made sense anyway. Couldn’t we avoid the confrontation altogether? Maybe we could go back to the way things were before.
After school, I limped down to the beach again, and sure enough, Jax was there, manhandling the waves, his athletic body strong, balanced and graceful as he rode wave after smooth wave. He finally emerged from the ocean, a junior version of Aquaman.
“What are you doing here?” he said, hurrying over to where I sat. He dropped down to his knees in front of me, salt water dripping off his hair and onto my skirt. “How’s your ankle?” He gently touched it, and I winced.
“It’s okay. Guess I really did twist it.”
“You didn’t climb down that rope, did you?”
“I was worried about you. When I came by the beach to do yoga this morning and saw how big the waves were—”
“Please tell me you didn’t climb down that rope.”
“Yes, I climbed down the rope. I’m not as weak as you think I am.”
“Bu
t your ankle. You really did a number on yourself.”
“How was your session?” I said, changing the subject. I didn’t need a teenager to tell me how to take care of myself.
“Freaking awesome.” He broke into a huge grin. “Just freaking awesome. But we need to get you out of here.” He peered at me intently. “What’s wrong with you? You can’t come down here when you’re hurt. You need to put your foot up.”
“I told you, I’m tougher than you think.”
“Whatever you say. But I’m helping you climb that rope. Up you go,” he said, extending one hand to help me.
We stood in front of the rope, and Jax assisted me. I pulled and shimmied up the side of the rock.
“Ouch. It was easier going down.”
“It couldn’t be! You had to jump down. Jesus, you never listen, do you? You’re limping. I’ll put my arm around you. Lean into me.”
Jax walked me home, one powerful arm around me, his surfboard tucked under the other arm. As the thunderous waves crashed in the background, I leaned into the safety of his hard, athletic body. The aroma of neoprene from his wetsuit mingled with seawater and Jax’s masculine scent.
I forced myself to keep a clear head, determined that we would go back to the way things were before.
Buddies.
Jax
Rosalyn was limping pretty bad on the walk home, but worried as I was, it gave me an excuse to put my arm around her and feel her soft, curvy body. My head buzzed with anticipation at the thought of us alone in her apartment.
When we arrived, she collapsed on the sofa putting her feet on the ottoman while Leo jumped up on her chest. “Hey, sweetheart,” she said, cooing and petting the kitty.
I kneeled down in front of her. “You need to ice this.”
“Treatment for swelling is hot epsom salt soak, then ice water back and forth.”
I walked into the kitchen to get the ice. “You got something we can soak your foot in?” She sent me to the hall closet for the first aid stuff. I filled one plastic tub with hot water, the other with ice cubes and water, and put both in front of Rosalyn. She slipped her delicate foot into the hot water with a sigh.
“Grab my bong, will you, honey?” she said, “And my stuff’s in my bottom dresser drawer.”
“Are you sure you should be doing that all the time?”
“I told you, it helps with the pain. Quit being a buzzkill.”
In the bottom drawer, behind the sandwich baggie filled with bright green marijuana, I saw Rosalyn’s sex toys. She had a collection of dildos in pink and purple and something in a see-through plastic case. What the hell are those for? They looked like pink, plastic thimbles.
“What’s taking you so long?” she yelled from the living room. I jerked my head up and dropped the baggie. My face felt hot, my hands shaking. I took a deep breath to compose myself.
I returned with the stash and handed her the bong. She filled the bowl. “Give me a light, sweetie.” I flicked her lighter, and she took a long toke then sank back against the pillows. “Damn, that’s good.” She gazed at me through eyes that were quickly glazing over. She took another toke and said, “We learned in school that the best way to get the lymphatic system moving is through massage. Pour that water out and rub my ankle, will you, babe?”
I practically skipped into the kitchen and back with anticipation. Maybe it was better not to talk about what’d happened the other day. I was going to touch Rosalyn! I dried her leg gently with a towel. “Okay, tell me how to do it.”
She took another toke, set the bong aside, and pushed up on her elbows, looking at me, her head cocked. “Start at the bottom and work your way up, using your hands to push the fluid upwards.”
Rosalyn’s foot was delightfully feminine, her toenails painted a pearly pink. I’d never touched a girl’s foot before and wasn’t expecting it to be so dainty and smooth. As I rubbed her ankle, she leaned back against the pillows, closing her eyes and murmuring. “That’s nice. Yeah, that’s perfect. Your hands are so warm.”
Rosalyn’s breathing was getting funny, and she let out a moan. As I worked my way up, she spread her legs a little. She wore one of those long gauzy skirts, and I saw her sheer underwear as I hiked the skirt up. She kept her eyes closed as my hands massaged their way up her leg. I knew I had to be careful because I was getting way too excited. My heartbeat sped up, and my breathing got funny, too. Jesus! I wanted to slip my fingers underneath her panties so badly, but didn’t want to shock her, and I wouldn’t have known what to do anyway. My only experience with knowing what sex looked like was the porn I’d watched where men thrust hard inside screaming women or pushed their fingers inside them. I wanted to do those things, but I didn’t want to hurt Rosalyn. Maybe I could just touch her hair.
Nervously, I sat next to her on the sofa, our legs touching. As though coming out of a trance, she opened her brown eyes wide. “Jax? What are you doing?”
My breathing was so fast I thought I’d black out. When I smoothed her hair back, it felt just as soft and wild as I thought it would. Before she had a chance to say anything else, I kissed her. She let out a moan and kissed me back, her warm tongue darting inside my mouth. She tasted wonderful, like the ocean mixed with something sweet.
“Well, that’s certainly one cure for a sprained ankle,” she said. “Hand me my bong, will you?”
She took a long toke. “You know, if you’re going to kiss me, I’m going to have to teach you how. Come here, sweetie.” I leaned in so close that I could see every lash of her eyelashes, could feel the heat of her flushed cheeks. “But just one more time. Okay, maybe twice. Make your mouth loose, not so tense. Just relax and feel my tongue, then you put your tongue in my mouth.”
Rosalyn was letting me kiss her!
I touched her soft lips with mine. Her sweet tongue moved into my mouth, and I thought for sure I was going to come. I didn’t know how long I could take it. I wanted to rip her clothes off.
“That’s enough, honey,” she said. “I think maybe you need to get home now.”
“What? Really?”
“Yes, really.”
“Are you going to be okay? Can I get you anything? Can you make it into the kitchen okay without me?”
“Yes, my dear knight, I will be okay. Besides, I’ve got little Leo here taking care of me.” She stroked the kitty.
“So, I’ll see you later?”
“Yeah, sounds good. I’ve got homework. See you later, honey.”
I set the bong next to her, made sure Leo had food in his bowl, and brought her a glass of that bubbly water she liked. I grabbed the trash on the way out and left.
When I walked home, my surfboard tucked under my arm, everything was bright and vibrant. A few hummingbirds whizzed overhead, and I realized that I’d never noticed how colorful they were and how charming their “sweet, sweet” cries sounded. Music blared out of a passing car, and it felt like the bass guitar and the singers voice went right into my heart and head. My body was light and airy, like I could’ve run a hundred miles without getting tired. I wanted to sing and dance and shout from the rooftops how happy my heart felt. It seemed like it was going to swell right out of my chest. Rosalyn had let me kiss her!
When I arrived, everything seemed so normal. Mom was in the kitchen fixing dinner, Tyler was in our room playing the guitar, and Dad was fixing a broken handle on the window. Couldn’t they see that life was freaking amazing?
“How was surfing?” Mom asked.
“Great. It was totally awesome. Tyler, you missed out big time,” I yelled to my brother as I made my way down the short hallway to our bedroom and landed on the bed with a happy grin.
“What’re you so happy about?”
“Surfing.”
“Waves were good?”
“Yep.”
His green eyes studied me intently. “How big?”
“Big. Why didn’t you surf today?”
“Have to practice for my gig.” He perched on the edge of his bed, his
elbows resting on his knees, his face cradled in his hands. “What’s going on with you?”
“What do you mean?”
“You look different.”
“If you mean that I’m totally ripped and the best surfer down at the Cliffs, then yes, you may bow to the King.”
His eyes narrowed. “You have the hots for someone, huh?”
I took a sharp breath in and stammered a response. “What’re you talking about?”
“Something’s different about you. It’s that chick from school … what’s her name … Jamie, right?”
Jamie was a girl at school who kept hounding me to take her out. She was hot and all, but not my style. Way too aggressive. I smiled a secret smile. Rosalyn was aggressive in the very best way. She knew what she wanted and how to get it. “Dude, I’m not interested in her.”
“Why not? You could do worse.”
“Yeah, and why don’t you take her out?”
“Not my flavor. So, who is it?”
“What makes you think there’s somebody?”
“Just ‘cause you’re acting psycho. Like the other day when I caught you putting the butter in the pantry instead of the fridge.”
“Yeah? So?”
“Don’t lie to me. Something’s up.”
Tyler and I were close. Being twelve months apart was almost like being twins. Tyler couldn’t remember a time when I wasn’t in his life and I couldn’t remember a time he wasn’t in mine. We were only a grade apart at school, had the same circle of friends, liked the same music, and we both surfed. The only thing I didn’t do that he did was play the guitar. I didn’t like keeping secrets from him, but no way was I telling anyone what had happened between Rosalyn and me. “Nothing’s up.”
“Yeah, well, if you say so.” He rolled his eyes, then picked up his guitar and headed for the door. “Gotta go to practice. Say hi to Jamie for me next time you see her. Chick’s been calling you.”
I collapsed back on my bed after Tyler left and smiled, contentment and love surging through my system like a drug.
Peaks of Passion: Pleasure Point Series Book One Page 6
