Chasing Forever Down (Drenaline Surf Series) (30 page)

“I’m flying down to Florida in September to meet with Logan again. Think I could drive up and see you while I’m there?” he asks.

I pull back enough to see his face.
“Definitely. I’ll tell my parents that you’re a businessman. That’ll impress them.”

He laughs.
“And it’s not a total lie. Just leave out the part where I dropped out of high school and did some scam artist work.”

“
But Honey Gold’s the best part of the story,” I say. I wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him before he can protest. It’s the truth. Honey Gold is how we met.

I trace down his jaw line with my mouth until he finally eases out of my grasp.
“You’re about two kisses away from a busted radiator,” he says. He reaches into his pocket, pulls out his wallet, and hands me a few twenties. “Take this.”

“
I’m not taking your money,” I say.

“
This is what I made from selling Taylor’s hair dye,” he tells me. “I figure if I do something good with it, it’ll justify ripping off the tourists.”

He leans in and kisses me again, but I stop him shortly after his mouth meets mine.

“I can’t afford a busted radiator,” I whisper.

“
Alright,” he surrenders. He walks me around to the driver’s side, prompting Alston to forfeit Linzi to the passenger seat.

I reach inside and turn the key in the ignition. Secretly I’d hoped it’d choke like Miles’ truck, but this is probably the best shape my car has ever been in. I turn back to Vin’s iceberg eyes one last time.

“One more for the road,” I say, pulling him closer. I want this kiss to last forever.

But of course it doesn’t. Linzi’s door slams shut, yet I can’t bring myself to give in that quickly. Vin and Alston join the others on the front porch. I blow a kiss, which A.J. returns, and Topher waves the shaka at us. Tears streak Linzi’s face, and I know I’m seconds away from the very same thing. I close the door, put the car in
drive,
and don’t look back.

Colby Taylor’s billboard glows in the early darkness. The highway is ghostly quiet, which allows us time to slow down and look one more time. He’s still tan and shirtless and glorified next to that black and silver surfboard.

“
Crescent Cove,” I say.

“
Home of surf star, Colby Taylor,” Linzi reads.

I laugh through my sniffles and tears.
“It’s so much more than that.”

“
Definitely,” Linzi replies. “So tell me, Sunshine, just how exactly did you end up with Vin Number?”

CHAPTER
24

The UPS truck halts at the curb outside of our house. I can’t see it from up here in the attic, but I know the sound of it all too well. Mom probably bought more crap on QVC. It’s like a terrible addiction
. She’s more than likely bought an entire new kitchen after that water pipe incident. Of course she’s never home when Tripp brings her packages.

I stumble over pieces of driftwood, some of them pieced together in frames and some sailing alone, and leave the metal pelican near the door. I sort of think my parents just stored all of
Secrets of The Sea in our attic. It’ll be a while before that pelican has a new home, but I want him in my possession, just in case I do end up across the Mexican border with A.J.

The wooden ladder creaks beneath my flip flops. Tripp is ringing the doorbell once I round the corner.

“Haley,” he says. “How’d the college search go? Find someplace special?”

Oh yes. Crescent Cove. Horn Island. Drenaline Surf. Strickland’s Boating.

“It was good,” I say instead. “Still have to graduate though before I make a final decision.”

The decision is final, but I haven’t told my parents about California yet. Not that I planned on telling them about the trip. I told them about the awesome college guys we met during our break in Colorado. They happen to be from California. They were scouting colleges too. It shouldn’t have been so easy to lie.

“You’ve got all the time in the world,” Tripp says. He hands over a box that is so not anything from QVC. “You want to sign for that?”

The return address is an apartment complex in Horn Island, California. Hell freaking yes I want to sign for it! I scribble my name in a totally illegible fashion then rush inside even though there’s driftwood and a pelican waiting for me back in the garage.

I don’t even bother taking it to my bedroom. I rip through the tape with Mom’s butcher knife and land my hands on a copy of Crescent Cove’s local newspaper. I already know the verdict. I heard it the moment it was announced while sitting at a gas station in Colorado the day after we left when A.J. called just as he promised. But I still squee like a total Hooligan fangirl when I see the headline.

DRENALINE SURF
SIGNS HORN ISLAND SURFER MILES GARRETT

There’s a picture of Topher and Miles next to the article. And there’s an envelope full of actual pictures taken the day of the competition. The note included reads Courtesy of Strick. It’s the next best thing to actually being there.

I drop them back into the box and rush up the stairs to hide it away in my room until Linzi can come over and see it all for herself. And that’s when I see it. The large, thick envelope under the foam peanuts. They fall like chunks of snow around it as I pull it from the box.

I peel off the lime green sticky note. It’s in Vin’s handwriting, and for once, I think he actually tried because it’s easier to decipher than his Drenaline Surf invoices.

A.J. broke into Taylor’s house for this. I had to pay for a new window. A.J. said it was worth it. I hope he was right. – Vin

My heart pumps and surges like one of those
Horn Island waves bouncing off those huge, jagged rocks. There’s more bubble wrap in the envelope than anyone would guess could actually fit in there. And A.J.’s packing job is perfect. There are no broken pieces nor the slightest scratch.

Sunlight dances through the window and catches every blue shade of Solomon – iceberg eyes, Ocean Blast Energy, Kale’s flower lei, and the Crescent Cove water.

A.J. was right.

Acknowledgments

These people deserve paper stars, sugar cubes, and a vacation in the cove. (Yes, Emily, you can go to Horn Island instead.) Thank you to...

*
Brittany
and
Olivia
, for reading my manuscript when you could've been reading a published book. You’ve both given me priceless feedback.

*
Carolyn
, for being my California sister and for the super sweet texts about A.J., which I still have saved on my phone.

*
Redd
, for reading my girly beach story and giving me feedback from a male perspective.

*
Chris
and
Katie
, for our many adventures at Bristow Park. This story exists because of you guys.

*
Rachel
, for being my forever-cheerleader; for chasing after and capturing impossible dreams with me; for Yellowcard; and for suffering through the summer heat, drunken idiots, and a "barrier" just for me to have the experience of hearing TheDavidDesrosiers sing live.

*
Cheyanne
, for the endless texts and e-mails; for the many hours of work you put into helping me make this story the very best it could ever be, even through my plot changes and Hooligan additions; for naming Drenaline Surf; for everything - because I could write a novel just about how awesome you are.

*
Emily
, for being the best sister ever; for being #TeamCrescent from the moment this book was a vague idea about a dead surfer and "Strickland's Ship"; for being enchanted; for Zombie Asylum; for being Miles Garrett's number one fan; for the little things, like A.J.'s dragon tattoo; and for Topher, because he's my favorite Hooligan everrrrr.