Yosh takes the lead and disappears into the next room.
“You coming?” he calls back.
I follow him into what must’ve been a bedroom once, but is now more of a chaotic storage space. There’s furniture, boxes, tools, paint cans. Just stuff everywhere, stacked in loose clusters like he gave up halfway through organizing. Two surfboards lean against the wall, half-covered by a few old blankets.
Definitely not the finesse he shows at the resort. This mess is unfiltered, and honestly, it’s the most real version of him I’ve seen so far.
He pulls the blankets one by one off the boards, tossing them aside. He doesn't even bother folding them.
The first board is bright turquoise, scratched and sun-worn, painted with purple waves and a candy-pink shark. Loud and flashy. Love it! I call dibs on that one.
The second one is more subtle. White, with a few thin black lines that form a pointed, snow-covered mountain. At the peak, there’s a soft red circle, like the sun rising behind.
It’s minimalistic, but amazingly beautiful; a piece of art.
Yosh reaches for the black-and-white board, tucks it under his arm, then nods at the turquoise one.
Yes, Yes. That one. Mine!
It’s bigger than I expected when I pick it up, but it feels familiar under my arm.
Me and Joan spent a couple of summers surfing the coastline of Biarritz. Not that I’m going to mention that. I’ve already decided to play the clueless beginner, just to see the look on his face when I casually blow him away with my so-called natural talent.
I bite back a grin. This is going to be fun.
I fumble with the board on purpose, adjusting my grip like I’ve got no clue what I’m doing as I follow him out to the car.
We lean the boards against the wall, then head back inside.
“Need to find wax...,” he mutters to himself. “And my wetsuit,”
He drops down beside a stack of boxes and shoves a few aside, sending a couple of dinosaur-era medical textbooks skittering across the floor. At the back, he pulls open a closet, its hinges creaking as loudly as the fence gate.
“Here.”
He turns and something comes flying at me. I catch it mid-air; it’s a bright blue, UV shirt, matching the board he gave me.
“To protect that sensitive skin of yours.”
“What, like I’m some kind of porcelain doll?” I shoot back from the doorway.
Not that he doesn’t have a point. I’m basically a vampire who somehow gets sunburned in the shade.
“Wear it, McKenna. Unless you’re hoping I’ll take care of you later.”
I shove the thing back into its box without hesitation.
He chuckles and disappears into the closet, coming back with a few more random items. They land in a cooler with a satisfying clatter, followed by my UV shirt.
I watch him trip over tools, dig through box after box like he’s been temporarily possessed.
Who is this person, and what has he done to Yosh?
This guy who tries so hard to be orderly, balanced, and neat is secretly an unhinged force of chaos. This is so. Fucking. Insane. I'm obsessed.
But I also think I understand now. Heneedsorder in his life.
I decide to step in and start cleaning up after Mister Put-Together, placing things back where they belong.
