Recklessly (15 page)

“So…he wouldn’t care if I pulled you closer and licked that spot on your neck you like so much?” Wes whispered as he brought his hands to her waist, and she reacted to both his touch and his words. Her breaths hitched for a few seconds and she sucked her bottom lip into her mouth. “Or if I turn you around and kiss your shoulder like I do when I’m behind you?”

But then Lana’s eyes narrowed and she leaned in close to him, lips adjacent to his. She gripped the back of his neck and pulled his face against hers. “Are you putting on a show in front of him? ‘Cause I don’t like that. I have no interest in being the commodity to be won in some pissing contest between you two.”

He really had just wanted to reminisce about being with her. He wanted the smell of her skin. The way her hair felt between his fingers. The sound of her voice. Her snarkiness.
Her laugh.
In the moment, everything about her felt so heightened to his senses and memories and perception. Wes pulled back and frowned. “My problem with Brody predates you, Lana. And I have no interest in fighting over you. The whole point of this…” He pointed between the two of them. “…Is to avoid fighting. Do I like that you and Brody have…
whatever
it is you have going on? No, but—”

She wrenched his hands from her waist. “There’s nothing going on, Wes.”

“Your
nothing
sure involved a lot of public hugging and kissing. And I bet he was the one calling you that day at my house when you got all weird. That’s why you wouldn’t answer. It was fuckin’ Brody Swift.” Wes gasped.
Shit.
Where had all of that come from?

He caught the rapid pulsing of her jaw muscles, and she looked flustered momentarily before calm settled in her eyes. “Whoa. Did I shit bricks over Kiera at
Vices Hollywood?
What happens outside of us isn’t even supposed to be relevant, remember?”

He sighed. “It’s not…”
Until it involves a guy I can’t fucking stand
. Knowledge had a way of mucking things up. Maybe Kiera had had a point at
Vices Hollywood.

“Okay…so, you’re mad
because it’s Brody.
Just
because it’s Brody?”

“What other reason would it be?”

She shrugged, pulsing out a smile. “I don’t know...”

“You follow surfing, so you know what happened years ago with me, but beyond that, he’s a
dick
. All of those guys he hangs out with have literally been banned from contest surfing. Brody’s hanging on to his sponsorship by a thread. I can’t even begin to tell you half the shit I used to see him do at after-parties overseas.”

“I’m not going to apologize for knowing him but, I get it, Wes, you’ve made your point…” Lana said with defeated frustration. It was then that he realized how adamant and insistent he
really
sounded. He was going out of his way to bad mouth the guy. Was he
just
angry…or was he…was he jealous? No.

Fine, goddammit, he was jealous.

But he didn’t want to live in a world where that was “a thing.”

With a squeal, someone hopped onto his back, ending their tense conversation for the time being. “Hi, cousin! Hey, Lana!”

“Hi, Little Elliott,” Lana said happily.

“Hey…Char,” Wes said with confusion thick in his voice. “What are you doing here?”

“Umm…I always come to the U.S. Open…” Charlotte replied, and her tone bordered on defensiveness as she jumped down to his side. “Don’t act like seeing me here is a big deal.” Her gaze brushed past Lana’s head as she rubbed the back of her neck and rocked on her heels; Wes sensed evasion in her fidgety gestures.

“Yeah, but you usually come down with me and Abel...and have you been drinking?” He could smell alcohol on her breath.

Her head snapped in his direction. “Jesus, Wes. Your car was full! Ugh. I came down with my friend, Keith, to see
you,
you know, not to be interrogated.” After a long roll of her eyes, she smiled sweetly at Lana. “So, are we good with that thing I asked you about?”

“Yeah. Next week. I’ll call you,” Lana said, winking at her.

“What thing? You two talk?” Wes asked.

“Do I have to run who I’m talking to by you, too? Maybe you can put a locator microchip in
my ass
like I’m your puppy.” Her whole body clenched, and the irritation bleeding through her sarcastic words had also tightened up her features. “I’m not a kid. Cut it out.” He dodged her forceful stride past him.

“It goes in their
backs,
Char!” Wes called out after her, laughing as he watched her go until the darkened mob soaked her up.

“She’s right, you know. You gotta let her be, Wes, or she’ll pull away…trust me.”

“You’re just siding with everyone who’s against me tonight,” Wes muttered.

“That’s so unfair…”

And childish.
“What were you guys talking about? You and Char.”

“If you must know…when I gave her The Remedy passes, she asked me if I could help her get a job at
Vices
so she could make some money before the school year started to help you and Abel out
.
I couldn’t, but I got her something down here in O.C. through a friend; it’s at one of the surfing apparel stores on Main. I told her it’ll be a rough commute because of the traffic, but she still wants it.”

“Lan! We’re gonna toast with Brody and the guys before they go out!” some woman shouted from a few feet away.

“Coming!” Lana replied. “Good luck, Wes. Just so you know…I’m rooting for you.” She gave him a soft peck on the cheek, squeezed his hand and strode off into the crowd. Who cared who she was rooting for? She was going off to see Brody. The irritation from before strengthened as he watched her. The Brody baggage was clearly that punch line the Almighty liked to throw into a situation that would otherwise be perfect, just to show everyone who was boss.

The D.J. lowered the music to announce that the night surfing session was about to begin. Judging would focus on style, innovation and trick difficulty; they wouldn’t even have to paddle out since the guys on the Jet Skis would tow them toward the waves. This was purely about showing off—aerials, combination maneuvers, flips—and all of it would mean one move closer to ten grand in winnings and another fifteen to a charity of their choice.

“Wes!” Ignoring the voice, he continued to stare at Lana as she interacted with her friends. She was speaking, but the look in eyes revealed that she wasn’t really listening, just performing deliberate gestures to pretend she was. Lana ran her hand through her hair and her gaze fell to him, expressionless.

It was fun while it lasted. Fuck it. I’m over it,
he thought.
Though the squeezing in his chest begged to differ. And he finally turned away from her and went to go join his friends. Even though the waves weren’t the best he’d ever seen out here, they were firing right now, maybe around four to five feet. But it could’ve been worse; the water could’ve been completely flat. The crowd came to see him and Brody, so they were going last, but the noise level was at a steady fever pitch when the first set of surfers hit the water.

Wes cheered on his teammates, clapping it up for morale, but his mind forced his gaze across the beach, and all his muscles tightening when his eyes fell to Lana. Somehow he’d just found her in the crowd again, hands on hips, talking to Brody. Wes wasn’t really a fighter, but he considered what it would be like to punch Brody’s teeth down his throat for a second. Anger pulsated in his stomach, and he clenched his teeth until his jaw joints hurt, until their conversation concluded. This really should not have been bothering him; it should not have sparked such an ache in his chest. There were women all over the place. He could literally put together an orgy before it was his time to surf if he wanted to.

But the problem is, you’re jealous, Deuce,
he admitted to himself.
You’re jealous because she’s amazing. She’s amazing and you hate Brody.

“Deuce! You all right, man?” Christian, who had just completed his set, slapped him on the back.

“Yeah. Great job out there, dude!”

“Thanks! You’re not worried about
that guy
, are you?” he gestured at Brody.

“Hell no.”

“Checking out the girls, then? The one standing on his right with the long brown hair and shorts…you were talking to her earlier, right? If she’s with Brody, that’s a goddamn shame. She’s beautiful.”

Didn’t he know it. He really needed to burn off a lot of his anxiety and annoyance, and his impatience to get in the water gnawed at him until it was finally his turn. His team was up by a few points, and Damon Eckhart’s airs were amazing enough to push them into such a lead that they were within winning range. Wes and Brody would both get eight minutes in the water, and they would alternate after four. Wes planned to crush him in the first half to the point that even if Brody promised one of the judges a rub and tug, it would still result in a loss for him, and it would be even better because Lana was watching. Yeah, he could admit that.

Since Team O.C. had won last year, Brody went out first, and Wes and Lana locked eyes again. A lot of his irritation evaporated when she smiled. She held up a finger and pulled her phone out of her bag. He shrugged as he shook his head and mouthed,
No phone.
Abel had it and he was a few feet away from him, but Wes didn’t feel like talking to her right now.

Later?
she mouthed with a hopeful grin.

Yeah.

The crowd went crazy for Brody once he was back on the beach. He passed his surfboard off to someone and posed for pictures, before he walked straight for Wes and hammered his shoulder into his. The Oahu surfers got rowdy and quickly circled Brody, which only agitated
his
friends, and soon both groups were spewing venomous words at each other with security prying them apart physically and with threats. Wes shook his head, grabbed his board and jogged out into the ocean to meet the guy on the Jet Ski.

The timer sounded and the Jet Ski operator yanked him toward the breaking waves. Once he gained power and speed, he released the rope, left the surface of the water, and grabbed the rail of his board with both hands, turning one hundred and eighty degrees. He caught his balance when he landed in the splashing white wash then maneuvered the surfboard a few feet before he purposely slipped below the surface. He was up again in a few seconds, flipping and twisting over the water and landing every stunt. The crowd went crazy, cheers pressing across the night sky. Brody would match all those moves easily on his next ride, but his Frontside Air Reverses were sloppy, and he’d attempt it at least once and not land it, and this was where Wes would pull the win with his own signature move.

He was much more confident as his last set approached. He even clapped for Brody as he finished his second round and saluted him as they jogged past each other. Wes grabbed the rope again when the Jet Ski came around, and he was pulled back into the crashing waves. As he gained speed, he got into the required stance, slung his body into the elevated spin, and grabbed the edge of his board as he went up. But he released it during the two rotations and landed perfectly. He surfed the remains of the dying waves and pumped his arms up in response to the uproarious shouts. He pulled it off one more time then threw in more wild, crowd-pleasing flips before his four minutes were called.

He threw his surfboard off to the side and lifted both arms into the air once he was back on the beach. They knew it. He knew it. It was over. Victory.

“Okay! Okay! You guys don’t get to decide, but the judges have tallied their votes and they seem to agree with you! The winner of the Big O Night Surf is…Team Oahu, with Wesley ‘Deuce’ Elliott as your overall winner!” the DJ yelled into the microphone. The guys lifted him into the air and carried him all the way to the winner’s podium. Team Oahu gathered for pictures and to receive the golden O-shaped trophy. When the frequency of the commercial flashbulbs waned some, Wes cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled, “After-party’s at me and Abel’s! Please come! Unfortunately we have to respect the fire code, so a red bracelet is the only way to get in!”

Leko, Ribsy, Dylan and Abel flung handfuls of them into the grabby palms of the anxious. Wes grabbed some Lava merchandise he’d brought and tossed it to the crowd, too, finally stripping off his surf shirt and throwing that as far as he could. He took a final picture with his bicep flexed, pointing at his
Deuce Is Wild
tattoo on the underside of his arm before he stepped down. People were rushing past each other to interact with him; it was a whirlwind of inappropriate touching, cell phone photos and high-fives.

“Hey, Wes.” Sloane Benson was at his side once the excitement eventually died down, reminding him of why he loved living in California. She was the quintessential beach girl: tiny bathing suit, long black hair and perennial tan without a single visible tan line. She threw her arms around him and smashed a kiss to his neck. Sloane was actually something of an ex from a few years ago. He’d dated her exclusively but very briefly within the two years after Erin’s death.

“Benzo! Good to see you,” he said, squeezing her a little tighter. He froze in place when his and Lana’s gazes collided as she and her friends walked by. She slowed her pace, nodded and mouthed,
Congratulations.

Thank you,
he said with a civil nod back before she continued her walk. She could go hang out with Brody…or anyone else tonight, if she wanted. But a vague feeling of regret, a twinge of loss, tightened just beneath his diaphragm. It had only been a little over a month; he shouldn’t have cared. But…he did. “Good to see you, too. How’s San Diego?” he asked, unable to tear his eyes off Lana until she faded into the crush.

“Awesome. You’re welcome to come hang out, you know. I still contend that the waves are better down there,” Sloane said with a smile.

“Boyfriends better down there, too? ” he asked, nudging her arm.

“Not so much. We broke up.”

“Is that so?”