Losing Faith (Surfers Way)

by Jennifer Ryder

  The two painful hours of shopping with Mum in Newcastle this morning was totally worth it. A pale yellow, tight-at-the-waist, flaring-out-to-above-the-knee dress that is much more Hollywood than Runaway Beach would have cost me a hundred and fifty dollars, but Mum insisted on paying. I swear she would’ve had a heart attack in the store if I’d kept on arguing with her over it.

  “That was what I was hoping for.”

  “Mission accomplished,” he says with a wink. I’d spent a stupid amount on a new bra-and-undie set too, but I’d done that while Mum had been preoccupied getting a few groceries. I’d like to see how that affects him later on. “You look beautiful. You always have. You always do.”

  “Thank you. I can say the same about you, handsome. I feel overdressed though,” I admit. Quade looks positively hot in a white short-sleeved linen shirt, open enough to tease me with the tanned skin hiding underneath, and a pair of mustard shorts and skater shoes that reward me with more ogling of his delicious calf muscles.

  “You look beautiful. If you’re hung up on it though, I’ll happily rid you of the dress later if you’d feel more comfortable,” he teases, and then pops a cherry tomato in his mouth.

  I open my mouth to speak, flustered by what to say next but when the waitress places a candle in the middle of the small square table, I take a deep breath in and out instead. The brunette lights it with a match, creating a warm romantic glow between Quade and me.

  “Bam. Candlelit dinner,” he says, his smile as proud as I’ve ever seen.

  “Beautiful,” I whisper. It really is the perfect date. I’d feel out of place in a flashy restaurant. At the end of the day, it doesn’t matter where we are or what we do, as long as I have this man sitting opposite me, or beside me, or underneath me perhaps ...

  “So I thought I’d let you choose what comes next. Movies or stargazing?”

  The date just gets better. “I can watch a movie anytime. It’s a clear night, so I think the stars are a winner.”

  “Even if that movie is Ten Things I Hate About You?” Of course he’d remember my favourite movie. Faith and I were thirteen when Heath Ledger died, and that was when we’d discovered this movie. We watched it over and over a million times at the Kelly house.

  The draw of that movie definitely had something to do with the fact that Quade had longer hair back then, and he had a thing about teasing me. “Why did you always pick on me?”

  “You know why,” he says with a smug look on his face.

  “The braces? The gangly legs? The inability to speak around you? What was it in particular?”

  “It was because you bit, Lace. You bit like no one else.” He shakes his head and softly chuckles. “Your bite improved after your braces came off, let me tell you.”

  “Yeah, well you became more annoying.” You got hotter.

  “That was my aim. When you were coined the Pepperoni Princess, I had to up my game.”

  “Is that so, huh?” I question with a smirk.

  “That just made the package complete. The scent of cured meat on a woman does wicked things to me.”

  I stick two fingers in my water glass and flick drops at him. “Shut up.”

  He reaches across the table and takes my hand. “Above everything, it was because I liked you,” he says, lacing his fingers between mine. “More than I should my sister’s best friend.”

  “Aw,” I say, and sigh as my heart flutters madly.

  “So what’s it gonna be after dinner? You should know that there might be a little moonlit massage in with the stargazing.”

  I place my cutlery on my almost finished plate and dab my mouth with a napkin, trying not to be too obvious about my excitement.

  “Let’s go gawk at stars,” I say casually. I lean across the table, puckering my lips.

  Quade leans in and our lips press against each other in a soft kiss. A tiny moan rumbles up my throat as he deepens the kiss. Then, it’s as if we’re not in the busy café by the beach but alone, except with no interruptions this time.

  An irritating smell drags me from his lips. The flame is brighter than before.

  “Lace, your hair,” Quade says.

  Huh? My hair?

  He flaps at my long strands, which are alight.

  Before I can summon a scream, Quade has a dampened napkin on my hair and the fire is out.

  “Oh my God,” I mutter, checking out the damage to my shrivelled ends. Gratefully, I think I’ve only lost an inch. Phew.

  “Oh well,” I say with a shrug. “Guess I was due for a trim.”

  “Who does that? Catch on fire at dinner?” Quade says with a shake of his head.

  “Apparently I do. Yup. Expect the unexpected with me.” I wink at him. He winks back. I let out a long breath and focus on his rugged, handsome face as I drag the sea air deep into my lungs. Swoon.

  A seagull swoops over Quade’s head and lands on our table, diving for one of the last few chips on my plate. I throw myself back and my chair onto two legs, and then grip the edge of the table before I collapse to the ground. Quade shoos the bird and then chuckles.

  “Shit,” I mutter, holding my hand over my pounding heart.

  Quade’s still laughing.

  “Not funny,” I grumble, but then I can’t help but laugh with him.

  “Let’s get the hell out of here before you get seriously hurt,” he says, standing beside me and offering his hand.

  ---

  “I’m just gonna freshen up, if that’s okay,” I say as we walk into Quade’s place. I need to check out this hair situation. I dread to think what I look like.

  “No worries. Gimme five minutes and then come out back.” He gives me a dreamy look as he picks up a large beach bag and carries it out the back door.

  When I look in the mirror I’m surprised at what I see, and it’s not the hair that’s got my attention. It’s the smile on my lips, the flush in my cheeks, and the hope in my dark chocolate brown eyes. Anticipation courses through my veins, tickling around the corners of my heart. Quade is changing me. After the longest time, I’m finally letting someone in.

  If only I had my girls to talk to. I wish I could tell them that I’m finally taking a chance. I always thought when I got serious with a guy, that I’d have Mack and Faith by my side. But I don’t. I place my hand on my chest, where for years I wore my Best Bitches charm. In spirit, I’m still wearing it.

  Love you, bitches.

  I make my way through the screen door and clutch at my chest when I step down onto the grass. I’m stepping into a daydream, an alternate universe, where the air is filled with the promise of romance … and love.

  Quade is bare-chested and barefoot, lying on his side on a large patch of miss-matched beach towels which he’s laid in the shape of a giant heart, with a few big blue pillows positioned at the top of each hump.

  Four tall bamboo sticks, each one positioned within a metre of the corners of the towels, are alight, the distinct smell of pungent citronella floating in the air. Fronds of palm trees cascade around the edges of the garden, creating mysterious shadows on the neatly cut grass. I bet he was half-naked when he mowed this …

  “I’ll be sure to keep a safe distance from the bamboo,” I joke as I kick my sandals to the side.

  A sexy chuckle rumbles up his throat. “That’d be ideal.” Quade presses a button on his Bluetooth speaker. The soothing tones of Jack Johnson float in the air, completing the picture of the perfect date. Quade pats the fabric beside him and wiggles his eyebrows up and down. I’m there at his side before I take my next breath.

  I snuggle into his side, his warmth settling against my skin as we stare up at the night sky.

  “You like?” he says.

  “Most romantic thing ever,” I tell him, turning my body to press my hand to the curve of his bare pec, appreciating the sensation of his heated skin beneath my fingertips. “And this song …” I wipe a stray tear from my eye. “Better Together.” I’d cried relentlessly over every word of this song after h
e left. It was supposed to be our song.

  “I know, Lace. This song means more now I’m back. Jack is just the sound of home, you know?”

  “I do love Jack,” I mutter, turning to him. As my heart grows heavy in my chest with fading memories, I can’t help but get a little choked up. I try and hide it by forcing a smile.

  “My Lacey is in there somewhere,” Quade says, running his finger down my cheek and gripping my chin between his thumb and forefinger.

  “Your Lacey?” I prompt.

  “Yes, my Lacey. The girl that didn’t carry the weight of the world on her shoulders, the one who had a fire in her eyes and a kick-arse sting in her bite.”

  “The fire’s still there,” I say to reassure him, but I know he’s right. I know I’ve taken on more responsibility for my friend’s death. More guilt than I’ll admit to anyone.

  “I see glimmers of her, that fiery personality I’ve always adored.”

  “I’ll never be that same girl,” I whisper and turn my head to the stars, blinking to ward off tears.

  We stare up at the brilliant display above us and talk. Mainly about old times—the funny moments shared between us. The times I’d wanted to strangle him. We reminisce about the times I treasured most with both him and Faith, rare as they were, when the three of us would all laugh and eat ourselves stupid with popcorn, watching 80s movies and laughing at how ridiculous the hair and outfits were.

  “Is the old cubby house still at your parents’ place?” I ask. Will I ever get to sit inside it again?

  “Yeah, they haven’t budged it. Just like anything else in Faith’s room. It’s exactly as she left it.”

  Exactly? Like unmade-bed kind of thing?

  “That’s kind of creepy.” Although if it was my child that had been killed, who knows what I’d do. “I’d love to see the cubby again. Just sit there and remember. I just wish I felt welcome at your parents’ house. I don’t think I could even approach your mum about it.”

  “I’m sure it can be arranged. If you feel weird being around my parents, we can always go one day when they’re at work. I need to pick up some boxes of my stuff anyhow. Mum’s planning on doing something with my old room.”

  “If you think it’d be okay with them, then I’d like that. Have you told them about me?” Is that too presumptuous, considering we’re on our first date?

  “Not yet, but only because they’ve been travelling a bit. Nothing’s changed there. Don’t worry. My parents will get used to you being around again. You’re a part of my life. They’ll come around. I thought Mum would be dealing better with everything, but she tends to focus on other things that have nothing to do with her.”

  I melt into Quade’s side. My vision begins to blur as tears build up. “I miss Faith,” I whisper.

  “Me too.”

  “You wonder if she’s looking down on us?” I ask, focusing on the Southern Cross and the surrounding stars. I turn my head to Quade but he’s looking at me, not the multitude of constellations arched above us.

  The light from the bamboo torches illuminates the lust dancing in his eyes. “Well if she is, she’s gonna have to turn away in a second because I’m about to kiss the eff out of you.”

  I pull my lower lip between my teeth and sigh. “What if I’m about to kiss the ever-loving eff out of you?”

  Quade shifts me underneath him. My dress rides up my legs as I spread my knees apart. His warm hand grazes the bare skin of my upper thigh sending tingles all over me. Yes. He settles his hips between my legs and moves his mouth close to mine, his breath warming my lips. I squirm beneath him, which brings his growing hard-on right against the dampness of my underwear. Ai ya ya. Orgasm imminent.

  Quade rolls his hips then presses his forehead against mine. “How’s the wooing going so far?” he says, his voice deep and filled with lust.

  “Shut up and kiss me,” I taunt.

  Lips meet lips. Our bodies meld together as every touch, every taste has sensations spilling throughout me, taking me on a journey which I know will lead to me calling out his name.

  After a few minutes of heavy kissing, Quade pulls his lips from mine. “Did you hear that?” he whispers.

  “Hear what?” A mosquito buzzes at my ear, and I wave it away.

  “Bastards,” he curses as he sits up. He swats at my arm, squashing one of the offenders.

  I sit up and swipe at one that’s attacking my leg.

  “Man, the mozzies love you,” he says through a chuckle.

  “Don’t these torches have citronella in them?”

  “I would’ve thought so,” he says, his brows pulled together as he looks at the one beside him. “Sure smells like it.”

  I straighten the bottom half of my dress and let out a heavy breath. The mozzies have crashed the party. “It’s beautiful out here but we’d better go inside,” I tell him.

  He grabs my hand as I tuck my legs beneath me. “Don’t run away yet, princess. I came prepared.”

  Quade pulls out a can of repellent from the bag beside him and offers it to me. I tilt my head to the side as I read the “heavy duty” label on the can. “You just had this handy?”

  “Like I said, I came prepared. Besides, I promised you a moonlit massage and that’s exactly what you’re gonna get.”

  “O-kay.”

  “Lather up in repellent and then get that sexy frock off. Now’s not the time to be overdressed.” He lies back on the pillow with his hands behind his head. I cast a gaze down to his shorts. I can’t wait until I get to see all of him. I’m a little excited, a little terrified, but eager as anything.

  My smile grows wide as I spray my arms and legs. I toss the can to the side, stand up and then undo the zip on the back of the dress. The weight of the brushed cotton fabric brings the dress to float to my feet.

  “Jesus,” he says, eyes wide.

  I look down at myself in my new white lingerie. Is this extra push-up bra giving him false expectations? He’s seen them before. Relax.

  “Here. Now,” he growls, pointing a firm finger towards the towel beside him.

  I lie flat on my stomach, setting a pillow beneath my chest and head for comfort, wrapping my arms beneath the soft cushion.

  “Won’t be needing this,” Quade says, tugging a finger behind the clasp of my bra. The material snaps to my sides and I gasp.

  Quade helps me to slide the straps off my shoulders but I keep my boobs firmly in the cups, pressed into the pillow. A popping noise draws my curiosity, and I turn to find Quade pouring oil into his palm. He sets the bottle down and rubs his hands together, spreading the oil which smells of cloves and an earthy scent which I can’t put my finger on.

  “Close your eyes,” he says. I do as I’m told, but my body is on high alert, starving for his contact. Quade moves beside me, then he places his knees either side of my hips and sits back, resting some of his weight on the backs of my legs.

  The soft strumming of the guitar soothes my ears, and warm, strong hands work muscles that have never felt the tender, loving touch of a man. I sigh as the tension in my muscles lets go, unwinding, and I’m pulled into a dream where this guy worships me with his hands and his kind words.

  “Q, that feels … God, I can’t even come up with a word that makes sense. If I was to say it was good it’d be an insult.”

  Quade circles his thumbs, digging in between my shoulder blades. “You carry it all here, you know,” he says, continuing to knead the knots I’m all too aware are there.

  Quade runs his fingers down to my lower back, but his hands don’t glide as well as they did before, my skin now sticky. I’m robbed of his touch for a moment and then comes the same popping noise from before. An annoying niggling feeling in my lower back has me slapping at the skin, certain there’s a mozzie sucking on my blood. Those buggers just won’t quit. I swipe again, hitting Quade’s hand.

  “Shit,” he curses. The bottle falls on my back. Cool liquid oozes over my hips and into my underwear, right in between my arse cheeks
.

  “Quade!” I cry out as the trickling sensation against my puckered hole shoots goosebumps all over me. Quade jumps off me and reaches for a towel. I jerk off the pillow, using one hand to hold on my bra, and the other peeling the fabric over my butt away from my skin, of course facing away from Quade. “It’s everywhere,” I say as I giggle. Are we romantically doomed?

  “Well that didn’t exactly go to plan,” Quade says, and wraps a towel around me.

  I tuck it under my arms.

  “Right. We need to take this inside,” he rumbles in a deep voice, bending down and effortlessly hauling me over his shoulder. I squeal as blood rushes to my head and the towel rides up to my waist.

  Thwack!

  Quade’s hand lands with a solid slap to my arse cheek. I scream as pain radiates from the point of impact.

  “You animal!” I cry out and burst into a fit of giggles as he smooths his hand over my cheek.

  “Again?” he teases.

  “No,” I bark out.

  Slap!

  Strong legs take purposeful strides towards the house. I pound my fists against his arse cheeks, but it’s like hitting rock. Buns of steel.

  Quade finally has me over his shoulder, just like he used to threaten way back then.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Once we reach inside the house, Quade sets me down on my feet and then runs towards the lounge room. I chase after him, even though I’m probably dripping oil everywhere. Our feet pound against the timber floors, our laughter echoing through the small house.

  Quade pulls me into his arms, gripping my hands behind my back so I can’t lash out at him.

  “Shower time,” he says, nipping at my neck and weakening my knees.

  “Yes,” I mutter as he walks me backwards until cool ceramic tiles are beneath my feet and I’m in his bathroom.

  He shifts his grip to one hand and with the other, flicks on the shower.

  Knock. Knock. Knock.

  Quade gasps. “What the fuck is happening tonight?” He shakes his head, his eyes filled with bewilderment.