Rough Waters (15 page)

“Damn. Look at all the people,” Alston says
as we take the exit into Sunrise Valley.

He’s right. RVs and cars sit bumper to bumper
on the street leading down to the beach. If they’re already here
for this weekend’s tournament, there’s no way we’ll find parking on
Saturday morning. Topher will definitely have an audience to show
off for.

“Are they here for the tournament?” I ask,
although I’m sure I already know the answer.

Alston nods. “Definitely. The surfers
probably came in early to see what the waves are like. It helps
them decide which boards to ride during the event. It’s going to be
worse this weekend. You might want to drive up Friday night
instead,” he says.

The closest parking we can find is blocks
away from the registration spot, so Alston drops me off and tells
me he’ll walk. I get out of his car, grab the registration forms I
printed off the internet, and grab my bag from the floorboard.

The lady at the desk gives me a number and
tells me to take a seat. Seriously? This is registration for a surf
competition, not the DMV. I text Alston to let him know it may be a
while.

“Dude, you’ve got this,” a tanned guy with
long black hair says. He elbows the blonde guy sitting diagonally
from me. “Don’t back out. You never know who will see you.”

I glance up from Topher’s registration and
the signature forged by Miles. The words ‘in case of death or
dismemberment’ send chills over my skin. It’d be enough to make me
back out. I can’t really blame the blonde guy.

“I’ll choke,” the blonde says. “I can’t choke
in front of everyone in Sunrise Valley and the entire surf world. I
don’t have the luxury of leaving town when it’s over. I live here,
Clover. Everyone will know I screwed up if I do.”

The dark haired guy – Clover, apparently –
throws his head back. “Who the fuck cares what anyone else thinks?
You’ve wanted this your whole life. Now you’re going to sign this
damn form, pay your damn money, and get the fuck in the water and
show the world who the hell Kieran Caples is, got it?”

The blonde signs the form and walks back over
to pay his fee. Clover tilts his head back in that universal guy
nod. I smile instead of even attempting to look cool. He reminds me
of A.J. – mouthy yet badass with what I’m sure is a good heart
underneath his ‘I’m probably a drug dealer behind the scenes’
exterior.

“You entering the event?” he asks me, nodding
to the papers in my lap.

“Me? No,” I say, shaking my head quickly.
“I’m just here to pay the entry fee for a friend of mine. He
doesn’t actually know yet.”

“Well, in that case, you’re one hell of an
awesome friend to have,” Clover says. “Whatever you do, don’t let
your friend wimp out. It’s easy to let these things get in your
head and psych you out.”

I laugh. “Don’t worry. I’m pretty sure
nothing will keep Topher out of the water,” I say.

Clover’s face grows solemn. “Topher as in
Brooks? Horn Island Topher Brooks? Shark McAllister’s protégé?”

I nod, unsure if this is a good thing or if
maybe Topher and Miles jumped this guy and his friend at some point
in the past. Clover seems like he could hold his own. He could
probably even be a Hooligan, if he surfs. He seems like their type
of guy.

“Fuck yeah!” Clover shouts out. “We watch his
clips on YouTube all the fucking time. He needs a better filmmaker.
That Theo dude can’t hold the camera steady for shit.”

Because he’s probably wasted while he’s
filming. I don’t dare say that, though, because I actually care
about Theo’s reputation. At least filming Topher keeps him out of
the water while he’s plastered.

“I’ll pass the word along,” I say.

“Awesome,” Clover says. He digs into his
pocket, pulls out a receipt, and asks to borrow a pen. “Here’s my
number, in case Topher ever needs a filmmaker. Or you know, if you
guys have some downtime at the tournament, we can hang.”

He hands me the receipt, which was for two
packs of cigarettes, and waves as he exits with his friend. Alston
passes them on his way inside.

“What’s that?” he asks, pointing to the
receipt in my hand as he sits next to me.

“The phone number of a guy who might just
change the world someday,” I say.

If Clover is anything like A.J. Gonzalez, he
definitely will. Alston stares at me, waiting for me to elaborate.
The lady behind the desk calls out my number before I can.

“Your boy toy is here,” Alston shouts out
from the kitchen. “You want me to let him in or would you like the
honors?”

I shoot him an evil glare. I do
not
want Topher to hear Alston say crap like that. I glance over at the
time on the microwave as I head to the door. I’d hoped we’d leave a
little earlier, but since we didn’t tell Topher until this morning,
he hadn’t packed. Kale texted me throughout the surfboard-choosing
crisis.

Miles hobbles in on his crutches while Topher
grabs their bags from the back of Miles’s truck. I watch him
through the window as he transfers his boards into the bed of
Colby’s truck. I volunteered to let Miles ride with me since he’s
injured. That’s the reason I gave Vin anyway. Colby and Logan have
been forced to ride with Vin in a rental vehicle, to “arrive as a
team and show that Drenaline Surf is united.” That’s what Colby
said when I asked if he was driving himself. What Vin doesn’t know
is that Colby is letting me borrow his truck so Topher can fit all
of his boards in it.

“We have to hurry up and leave,” Miles says
to me. “If we wait too long, he’ll want to go back to the apartment
and change out boards again. I didn’t think I’d ever get him out
the door.”

Alston volunteers to grab my stuff from my
room and load it into the truck. I wish Emily didn’t have to work
tomorrow so she could go with us to Sunrise Valley. We lucked out
on the condo rental tonight. Sharing a hotel room with Miles and
Topher would’ve been more awkward than someone finding the
Spaceships Around Saturn CD hidden in my car – and
that
would be pretty damn awkward.

Miles stumbles back outside, mumbles about
his ‘stupid crutches,’ and curses everything under the sun as he
tries to climb up into Colby’s backseat with one good leg. Topher
walks around the truck to help him but laughs throughout most of
it, which only results in more expletives from Miles.

Once the Hooligans are secured in Colby’s
truck, Alston walks me out to see me off. His final words to me are
that he’s just a phone call away in case I need someone for ‘girl
talk.’ For Alston to be the super hot playboy of the group, he
could border the metrosexual line. But for now, I don’t have Linzi,
and I can’t talk to Emily about the Brooks brothers, so Alston will
have to do.

It’s after sunset when we pick up the keys
and settle into our rental spot for the night in Sunrise Valley.
Miles sends Topher on a GPS-inspired trip to find a Taco Bell while
I go over the agenda for tomorrow’s event. Miles has three
interviews, about thirty minutes apart, and Colby has a Q&A
early in the afternoon followed by a more formal interview after
the event. Vin told me to go with them to each meeting. I just hope
they don’t overlap with any of Topher’s heats. I can’t stand the
thought of missing him surf.

I settle in on the couch with Miles and turn
on my laptop to see if heat match ups have been posted. Miles seems
more excited about it than I anticipated he’d be, especially since
the first round isn’t even an elimination round.

“Who’d he get?” he asks, leaning into my
shoulder to see the screen. “Todd Copeland. Ha. That guy’s a kook.
Topher will slay him.”

He stares at the other name in the
three-man-heat for a second, mentally deciding if he knows anything
about Brendan Ridenour.

“Damn,” Miles says. “I used to be on it when
it came to the California surf scene, but I don’t know who most of
these people are.”

We skim the list for Colby’s name, stumble
upon Dominic Richardson’s name in the process, and eventually see
that Logan is surfing against Kieran Caples and Blake Lewis.

“Okay, Blake Lewis can’t surf for shit, so
Logan will have the upper hand on him,” Miles says. “I’ll do the
whole Team Drenaline thing for Vin, but I hope that Caples kid
knocks Logan back to the east coast.”

I don’t admit it out loud, but I hope that
‘Caples kid’ does too. And I hope Clover uploads the video all over
the internet.

The condo has been silent for thirty minutes
when there’s a faint knock on my bedroom door. For a minute, I
wonder if I’m in a dream state and just imagined it, but then
Topher whispers my name and taps gently against the door again. I
make sure I’m completely covered by the blanket, even though I’m in
a tank top and shorts, before I tell him to come in.

“Hey,” he whispers, carefully shutting the
door behind him. “Did I wake you up?”

I shake my head, even though I’m not one
hundred percent sure I was fully awake when he knocked the first
time.

The moonlight glistens around the room,
casting a glow on Topher, who wears nothing more than his board
shorts. I don’t think I’ve seen him shirtless since I’ve been here
this summer. His mild tan is nothing compared to Miles’s or Kale’s,
but he’s definitely sunkissed. I can tell that much even in just
the moonlight.

“Can I, um, ease in with you?” he asks,
motioning toward the bed.

I feel like I’ve swallowed a seashell – one
of the round, jagged ones. My words stop in the middle of my
throat, scratching and clawing against its insides. So I just nod
and move over a few inches to make room for him…and to make sure we
don’t touch in any way, shape, or form.

He doesn’t pull the blanket back, thank God.
Instead, he sits on the bed but stretches his legs out ahead of
him.

“I’m freaking out about tomorrow,” he says.
“I know Vin is going to flip – like completely, totally flip out.
And on top of that, what if no one notices me? What if no one even
thinks I’m worth sponsoring? This could all backfire.”

He goes on about how embarrassing it’d be if
certain companies didn’t notice him. He says something about a shoe
company and then cringes about an eyewear brand, but it all goes in
one ear and out the other as I watch his abs rise and fall with his
panicked breaths.

I do all I can not to breathe in the scent of
sunscreen and salt water on his skin, but he smells like
summertime, like a surfer right off of a wave and onto the shore. I
glance away and try to imagine him in the ocean…a dirty ocean with
dirty Horn Island water and gross, stringy seaweed. But it doesn’t
do me a damn bit of good.

So I try to find a way to make those stupid
blue and yellow board shorts less attractive. Yellow is such an
ugly color. It’s the color of sunshine, and sunshine is a word I
don’t ever want to hear again. Stripes are so last season. Alston
would totally bash those shorts. Ugh. This isn’t working. Topher
totally makes blue and yellow stripes attractive.

“What do you think?” Topher asks.

“About…which part?” I ask, hoping he won’t
know that I haven’t heard much of anything he’s said in the last
few minutes.

He sighs. “I’m sorry. I’m rambling,” he says.
“Just about all of it, in general, I guess?”

“I think…” I pause and try to channel
something awesome to say. I should’ve brought Solomon to hang in
the window. Then again, he’s done nothing for me this summer.

“Who cares what anyone else thinks?” I ask.
“You’ve wanted this your whole life. So tomorrow, you’re going to
go out there, get in the water, and show the world exactly who
Topher Brooks is.”

“Wise words,” Topher says. He smiles. “You
always know what to say.”

“I can’t take credit. Some guy named Clover
said pretty much that same thing to his friend who wanted to
chicken out of the competition the other day when I was paying your
entry fee,” I admit. I should’ve taken credit, but Clover deserved
the props.

Topher nods slowly. “So you were just hanging
out talking to random surfers? I feel betrayed.”

“Whatever,” I say, elbowing him. “This guy
knows who you are. He wants to film you.”

“Surfing?” Topher asks.

“No, sexually,” I say, forcing sarcasm.

“Ohhh. In that case, do you want to watch?”
Topher asks, cracking a smile and then laughing before I can
respond.

“Get out,” I tell him. “Now. Go to bed. Your
bed.”

He starts to say something else but can’t get
the words out through his laughter.

I point to the door. “Out.”

He says good night and makes his way back to
his room. I wait until the house is silent before I get up and
tiptoe to my bedroom door. I lock it and then toss and turn for
thirty minutes, freaking out over what might be Topher’s attempt at
flirtation. There’s no way in hell I’ll sleep any time soon. So I
call the one person who I know will be awake and playing
Zombie
Sanctuary 3
at this hour of the night – Alston.

The sunrise comes too early in Sunrise
Valley. The morning sky pours in through the windows, making me
regret the late night ‘girl talk’ with my playboy roomie. Scratch
that – I regretted the call pretty much right after I made it, when
Alston made jokes about polygamy and how maybe there could be a
reality show made out of this complex situation I’m in.

I quickly get ready for the day and then go
into the living room to see if anyone else is awake. Miles
stretches out on the couch, scrolling through the event’s website
on my laptop. He says that he sent Topher out for breakfast. It
doesn’t surprise me. Miles is all about the food. I hope I don’t
have to chaperone him around today in search of chili cheese fries
or pickles. I don’t think he’ll make it far in the sand on
crutches. Then again, for pickles, maybe he could.