by Jordan Ford
Act casual, Harley. Play it cool.
“What are you doing here?” I swipe a drying tendril of hair off my cheek. “Hiding out from your friends again?”
“I don’t know.” He sighs and slumps down beside me, his neon blue sneakers getting covered with sand. His broad shoulders round as he draws his knees up and rests his forearms on them.
I stretch out my legs and cross my ankles, not wanting to be sitting the same way he is. It’s also a good opportunity to inch away from his bare skin.
He’s wearing a sleeveless tank tonight, and damn his arms are nice. Muscly. I like the shape of them—the curve and the definition.
This irritates me, so I force my eyes away and look out at the sky. It’s changed again, the colors turning from blues and purples to light pinks and orange. I love the way the light coats the bottom of the clouds. They’re not always painted this way, and it’s my favorite kind of sunset.
The morose guy lets out another heavy sigh and my eyes dart towards him. I give his ankle a nudge with my foot. “Come on, dude, the sun is about to set. Look at that beautiful sky.” I point to it. “You’re not allowed to be sad when you look at a sky like that, so you can just take your rain cloud butt and march it back to the north end if you’re going to ruin this moment for me.”
An instant grin changes his entire face, lifting the corners and making his green eyes glint for a moment. Without a word, he shifts his butt in the sand, like he’s getting comfortable, and gazes out across the ocean.
Silence settles between us, and I can sense his body starting to relax beside me. His shifting around has put us closer together. I can feel the heat radiating from his legs. It’s hitting my cooling skin and giving me tingles.
“Wow,” he murmurs, his expression one of awe as the sun dips a little lower, making the orange and yellow hues burn like gold.
“It’s my happy place, you know.” I keep my voice soft, not wanting to shatter this moment. “The sand. The sun.” I smile. “The water.”
“It used to be mine too.” He tips his head, then looks at me. “The water, I mean. I’m a swimmer. Compete for my school.”
“Nice,” I murmur. I should have guessed that. Swimmers always have broad, muscly shoulders. Sometimes it even puts their bodies out of proportion, but not this one. He’s got a great frame and structure.
A great frame and structure? Harley, shut the hell up!
Pretty rich boy lets out a hard laugh and shakes his head. “It used to be nice. I used to win everything, but in the last year…” His jaw works to the side and he lets out a brittle laugh. “I’m just not feeling it.”
“Well, maybe you need to change your water.”
“Huh?” He glances at me, his frown kind of adorable.
I grin at him. “You know, change chlorine for salt?”
This makes him laugh for real. “Are you saying the ocean’s better than a swimming pool?”
“Hell yeah!” My voice pitches high with enthusiasm. “Natural, beautiful ocean with waves you can ride and living amazing creatures beneath you. Ocean beats pool every time.”
He opens his mouth but then closes it again. I wonder if he was going to argue with me, but then he gazes back at the water for a moment before turning to me. “You really love surfing, don’t you?”
“Best thing in the world.” I can tell I’m smiling big-time. Even my voice sounds like its smiling. His lips twitch as he studies me and before I can change my mind, I blurt, “I can teach you if you want.”
His head jerks back like I’ve just told him I have two extra arms hiding behind my back.
I don’t know whether to be offended or not, but Jed’s voice is rocketing through the back of my brain, goading me on. I could be earning cash doing something I love!
Okay, I have to sell this and make it sound good. “If you pay me.”
His eyebrows, which I didn’t think could go any higher up his forehead, inch just a little farther as he asks, “Pay you?”
Wow. Great sales pitch, Harley. I internally roll my eyes at how stupid I am, then force a smile. “Yes. Surfing lessons.”
“You give surfing lessons? You’re a surf instructor?”
I swallow, and my head starts doing this weird bobbing thing, like I’m one of those bobblehead dolls on a car dashboard. “Well… I mean, I can be.”
His eyes narrow as he readjusts his position in the sand so he’s facing me. His bent knee brushes against my ankle, and it’s an effort not to jerk away like I’m electrocuted.
Forget about his legs and focus on the sale!
I put on my brightest smile. “If I’m honest, you would be my first client, but a business has to start somewhere, right?”
He starts to laugh, and it looks like I can safely rule out a career in sales. I wrinkle my nose while he snickers at me, then nudge his shoulder with my fist. “Oh, come on. Surfing is cool. You want to get your mojo back and impress those prissy Elite girls? Become a surfer. Some of the guys who surf this beach are sexy as hell, and girls come down to check them out all the time.” I cringe. I’m seriously messing this up and should probably shut the hell up, but I can’t leave it there.
He has to know.
I have to make him understand.
“But more important than all that stuff, surfing is like…” I stretch my arms wide, trying to figure out how to put something so epic into words. “Okay, so, being one with the water, carving up a wave, feeling that energy flow beneath you…there’s nothing like it. I swear, man. It’ll change your life.”
11
Harley Question Mark
AIDAN
Change my life.
I kind of like the sound of that.
This girl’s passion is pretty damn compelling. As the last of the sun illuminates her features, turning them bright and beautiful with its golden hue, I’m struck by just how badly I want to say yes.
Even just for the chance to hang out with her some more.
And maybe she’s right. Maybe learning to surf will help me find my confidence again. Savannah and Skylar are always ogling the surfers. Maybe if I become one of them, Savvy will want me back.
In the meantime, it’ll be a damn good distraction.
“Okay.” I nod. “How much do you charge?”
The girl’s nose wrinkles like she’s only just thinking about it.
Starting a business my ass. She’s doing this on the fly.
“Uh…” She shrugs. “Fifty?”
“For how many lessons?”
“One.” She holds up her index finger.
I gape at her for a second then laugh. “Fifty bucks for one lesson?”
“What?” She frowns at me. “You can afford it.”
“How would you even know that?” I give her a matching scowl. “You just assume because I go to Walton Academy that I’m rolling in money, I sleep on hundred-dollar bills, and use fives to wipe my ass?”
She snorts and lets out a quick laugh. It’s not a cute sound to match her size, more like a low, husky giggle, but I like the melody of it.
“Okay, fine. What do you think is fair, poor man?”
I look at her, fighting a grin as we enter into serious negotiations.
Rocking back on my butt, I do some quick calculations in my head. I’m not going to borrow money off my parents. For some reason I don’t want them knowing about this. If I say I’m taking up surfing, they’ll want details. And details will lead to conversations about my future and how I should be spending my time, and won’t that take me away from my friends, and school, and Savannah?
I swipe a hand over my mouth. I earn about ninety bucks a week teaching swimming lessons…
“I’ll give you thirty bucks for two lessons a week.”
She tips her head, then shrugs and says, “Make it forty and you’ve got a deal.”
I can’t help my scoff. She drives a hard bargain.
“What?” She spreads her arms wide. “If you’re motivated, you’ll only need like four
or five lessons anyway. Then it’s just up to you to practice. I’ll provide a longboard to start, and then you can buy your own when you’re ready to practice without me.”
This makes me hesitate. Buying my own board? How the hell will I keep that under wraps?
The girl holds out her hand. “Do we have a deal?”
Screw it. I’ll figure out the board thing later. For all I know, I might hate surfing.
“All right, deal.” As I wrap my hand around her small digits, I get an overpowering feeling that I won’t hate it. I won’t hate it at all. “So, when do you want to start?”
She lets go of my hand. “You free Wednesday morning before school?”
With the swim season wrapped up, I can probably drop to training only three mornings a week, so I nod. “I can swing it.”
“Good. Meet me here at six. We can squish in an hour before heading off to school.”
“Okay.” I nod.
She nods back and then gets up to leave.
The sun has basically disappeared now. Only a blinding beam of orange highlights the horizon.
“Just one more thing.” I reach out and grab her wrist without thinking about it.
“What?” She goes still, giving me that pointed look of hers. It’s impossible to miss, even in the fading light.
I let her go and stand up, brushing the dry sand on the side of my shorts. Now that I’m standing next to her, I’m aware of how much taller I am. This chick’s about the same size at Skylar, only just reaching my shoulders.
“What?” She’s still waiting for me to talk.
I shake thoughts of our height difference out of my mind and smile. “I think I should know the name of my surf instructor.”
She laughs, and I swear there’s a blush on her cheeks. “Yeah, of course. Sorry. It’s Harley.”
“Harley what?”
Her lips dip at the edges. “You don’t need to know my last name.”
“But I’d like to.” She makes a face and I start to laugh. “Is it really embarrassing or something?”
She rolls her eyes and then scratches her forehead.
She’s thinking of telling me. I can sense the wheels in her head turning.
“I promise I won’t tell anyone. In fact, I’m kind of going to keep these surf lessons under wraps, so your identity is completely safe with me.”
She gives me a dry look before rolling her eyes again.
“Otherwise I can just call you Harley Question Mark. Would you prefer that?”
“You don’t have to call me Harley anything. Just Harley is fine!”
I nod but can’t resist. She’s kind of cute when she’s flustered, so I drag this out a little more. “You know I’m going to keep guessing, right? So unless you want me to spend every lesson calling you the dumbest surnames I can think of, you should just tell me now.”
“Fine!” She tips her head up to the sky, giving me a glimpse of her pretty neck before glancing back at me and mumbling, “It’s Quinn.”
“Quinn,” I repeat, trying to figure out why that’s embarrassing for her…until I put the two names together. A slow smile stretches across my face. “Your name is Harley Quinn? As in the chick from Batman?”
“Yes.” She hisses the S. “My mother hates me.”
“Any middle name?”
“Nope! And she thinks it’s hilarious.”
That’s because it is hilarious.
I’m trying to hide my smile, but it’s a pretty hard battle.
Harley Quinn.
I actually love it.
A short laugh bursts out of me before I can stop myself. “Wow. Halloween must be a no-brainer for you.”
Her blue eyes narrow and she points at me. “If you’re picturing me in pigtails and shorts so tiny my ass cheeks are showing, just stop. That baseball bat of hers can be lethal, you know.”
“I don’t doubt it.” I smile.
“Oh, shut up.” Her eyebrows bunch together as she laughs then lightly slaps my stomach with the back of her fingers. “What’s your name, pretty boy?”
I clear my throat and pull my shoulders back. “Aidan Michael De Beer.”
“Well, that sounds like a rich, poncy name.” Harley’s voice pitches up and down as she teases me. I like her voice. It’s not super high or girly. Not soft or willowy. It’s got a husky strength to it.
And she’s not afraid to speak her mind.
I gaze at her for a moment before deciding to speak my own mind for a change. “You think us rich people up on the cliffs are such snobs, don’t you?”
She swallows and looks to the ground, giving me a half-hearted shrug.
“Have you ever thought about how judgmental that is? What if we’re nice rich people?”
She starts drawing patterns in the sand with her big toe and doesn’t look up. “I guess the only people I’ve really met from up on the cliff have been horrible, but… maybe you’re right. Maybe some of you are super cool.” She looks up, thrusting out her hand again. “So, I’ll make you another deal.” I grin and slide my hand into hers. “You don’t think of me as some scantily clad, crazy villain from Gotham City and I won’t think of you as a pretty rich boy. Just Aidan.”
I shake her hand with a nod. “It’s nice to meet you, Just Harley. I’m looking forward to Wednesday morning already.”
12
A Longboard Lesson from the Past
HARLEY
Well, it’s Wednesday morning.
And I’m nervous.
I’ve been awake since four thirty, tossing and turning as I try to figure out the best way to teach Aidan how to surf.
I’m reliving my lessons from three years ago. Remembering how “that guy”—he lost his name after what happened—taught me how to surf. Man, I’d had stars in my eyes back then. I clung to every syllable that fell from his mouth, soaked it in like he was God and I was simply one of his little minions, eager to learn, bow at his feet, do whatever he asked me to.
I would have walked on burning coals for that guy.
Clenching my jaw, I forcefully shove his image to the back recesses of my brain as I walk towards the beach with two surfboards balanced on my head. It’s kind of awkward, if I’m honest. I forgot how long my old longboard is; a fifteen-minute skate is turning into a twenty-five-minute walk that’s only getting slower.
I should have asked Aidan to pick me up, but 1) I don’t really want him seeing my crappy house and 2) I don’t want to have to explain him to my mother. She won’t care what I’m up to, but if she gets even a glimpse of a hot guy on our doorstep, she’ll assume he’s my boyfriend and that we’re sleeping together, because my mother will sleep with anyone.
She’d no doubt say something super classy, like “It’s about time you got your cherry popped. You’re nearly seventeen.”
I shudder and am now forcing images of my mother to the back recesses of my mind. She can hang out with “that guy” and leave me the hell alone.
By the time I reach the beach, I’m actually grumpy, which is not a great way to start a surf lesson. As my feet hit the sand, the cold grains bringing me home, I start to feel a little better. Laying the boards down, I stretch out my back and listen to the water lapping onto the shore.
It’s not a big surf this morning, and that’s perfect.
Aidan needs baby waves to start with. When I checked the report, I was stoked to see how perfect the conditions were.
I wonder how long Aidan’s been awake for. Did he get blasted awake by an alarm, or was he tossing and turning like me?
Hopefully tossing and turning…even just a little bit. That idea makes me feel better for some reason. I don’t want to be the only nervous one.
I don’t want to be nervous at all.
I can do this. I can teach someone how to surf.
If it hadn’t been for the ocean and my board, I would have been shattered after what went down with “that guy.” The ocean saved me. I’d paddle out into the water, tears on my cheeks, heartbreak in my soul a
nd I’d get lost, distracted, made happy by the joy of surfing.
I found a passion for something greater than myself.
The ocean has become my sanctuary, a place to hide when things get bad at home. A place to run to when the ugly memories chase me.
And now it’s my turn to pass this on to someone else. I want to give this gift to Aidan. I want to help him get past that restless sense of loss and despair that comes after a breakup.
And I want to get paid for doing it.
I smile as I remember our last conversation. Twenty bucks an hour. Sweet! That’s nearly double what I earn at the Freshmart. Shit, he could pay me half what I earn at that place and I still would have agreed.
“Hey, Just Harley.”
An instant grin lights my face and I spin to see Aidan loping down the beach. He’s in a pair of black-and-red board shorts that sit low on his hips, with a rash guard that is hugging every muscle of his torso. It’s like a second layer of skin, and I can still make out the contours of his muscles.
He’s so tall. And broad. And handsome.
I scowl and internally berate myself, Stop thinking he’s handsome, princess!
Clearing my throat, I wipe my expression clean and force my grin back into place. “Good morning.”
He rubs his hands together and gives me a nervous smile. It helps me to relax.
“You ready to do this?”
“Yes.” But his head is shaking.
I laugh and bend down to collect the longboard. Handing it to him, I feel an excited thrill race through me as I watch him take it and rest it upright in the sand.
“Looking good.”
“You think so?” He does one of those grimace smiles, which makes me laugh again.
What’s with all the laughing?
I never laugh this much.
Clearing my throat, I try to think like a professional and shift into teaching mode.
“That guy’s” voice wafts through my head, and I let it stay there for a few minutes while I formulate what I’m going to say.
