Page 30 of Forbid It

“This is one of my favorite boards.” I watch as he re-boards with an ease that you wouldn’t expect from a novice. “I’d hate for it to end up on trash island. Come on, we should head back in.”

We’re silent as we both paddle back to shore, the waves too calm to ride in on. Whatever camaraderie we built out on the water has gone now we’re back on dry land. Anxiety starts to creep in.

Twilight has made room for night by the time we trudge up into my back yard. Robbie looms behind me like a shadow as I stack the boards back on the rack. I should say something, anything, to break the unbearable tension. We nearly kissed out there, right? Why is he trying to deny this? More than ready to snap this tension like a band, I make my decision.

I straighten my spine, sticking my chest out further. He’s close enough that I nearly brush his bare chest with my bikini top.

“I’m taking a shower now,” I tell him, making sure to linger my eyes on his lips.

His jaw clenches as I raise my hands to my bikini strap. “Do you want one too?” I allow my voice to drop to the sultry tone I’ve used on more than a few willing men in my time. “It’s big enough.”

He swallows as one of the strings of my bikini falls, the damp material still clinging to my breasts. I swear his eyes drop for a split second before he backs away.

“I think my phone is ringing, you go ahead.”

Biting back disappointment, I strip the rest of my clothes off and step into the shower.

By the time I’m finished, a wetsuit is hanging neatly on the balcony railing and his car is gone from my driveway.

13

ROBBIE

It was a bad decision. It was a bad decision to drive her home. It was a bad decision to follow her into her house. It was a bad decision to get on a surfboard. And it was a bad decision to nearly kiss her.

So why do I regret none of it?

By the time I got home, I was exhausted from the full body workout she’d put me through, not to mention the mental workout it took to not take up her offer and join her in the shower. I had an ice cold shower by myself the second I got inside, rinsing off the salt and freezing my bollocks off until I calmed down enough.

The next morning, I’m pushing hard on the bike when I get a video call from my brother.

“Alright?” he asks, his Welsh accent thick. I don’t sound anything like him, because I picked up London English from my teammates at the Academy. Like me, he doesn’t speak the language, but his wife Gwen is fluent and insisted on sending both the kids to a Welsh language school where they speak it full-time in class. It’s cute when they accidentally blend sentences in English and Welsh, but most of the time we’re all just jealous that they’re bilingual before they’re ten years old. “Are you on that bike again? You need to hook it up to your electrics, save yourself a fortune.”

I power off the bike. “I don’t need to,” I remind him with a raised eyebrow.

“Ooh, I’m Robbie King.” Iwan mocks. “I win Golden Boots and shit them out again.”

“Fuck off,” I laugh, wiping sweat from my forehead. “What do you want anyway?”

“Can’t a man call his baby brother out of the blue?”

I raise my eyebrow expectantly.

“It’s Ffion,” he sighs exasperatedly. My brother never usually asks me for anything. He barely accepted the car I got him for his birthday one year, and it was a struggle to let me pay for half of his wedding. My parents were the same, refused to let me help them on the refurbs on the house until the heating packed in for the tenth time in as many years, and they finally let me hire a professional.

My niece is a different story. As soon as she was able to ask her father for things, my brother was on the phone to me. He has a lot of pride, but he’d do anything for his daughter. And honestly so would I.

“What does she want?”

“She’s got wind that you apparently know Cassandra, so I promised I’d find out if you have an in for an autograph.”

I concentrate on walking up the stairs from my basement. If I can avoid looking at him, he won’t be able to see just how well I know Cassandra.

“What makes her say that?”

“You’re all over the internet driving her around, mun.”

Fuck’s sake. How did that even get out? I didn’t see any paparazzi outside the stadium, but there must have been one lingering after the game to spot us. My mind should jump straight to damage control. If people start speculating that we’re friendly, it might be just one step away from a scandal, but instead I can’t find it in me to regret last night for even a second.