AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Thanks, but I don’t mind riding with her.” Maybe would have preferred it, because this kind of friendship is too comfortable, and no matter what I said last night, I’m not sure I’m ready to fall so easily back into who we used to be.
He nods, stopping at the truck. I do too. Before I can, he reaches over and grabs the board from me, balancing on one leg, his crutches against the tailgate while he settles it in the bed. “I know. But I wanted Jacks and Isa to get some time together this morning.” And then brushes his hand across my arm, not even making contact with my skin and still, we both freeze a little. “Besides, I missed the water, and I knew you’d be here.”
I don’t ask how. For a couple of years, this was our tradition, too, when Mal’s dad was too high or too angry or toosomethingto even notice that it was Christmas, and Mal would meet me after Mom left, surfing beside me and then walking me home.
Not ready to speak, I nod, grabbing my bag and heading to the passenger side to do a quick change. The rash guard goes first, leaving my damp skin exposed to the air. Hissing out a breath, I unhook my towel and knot it around my chest, untying the strings at my neck and back and whipping the bikini top off.
The truck shakes when a door slams, and I look up to see Mal gripping the wheel, staring straight ahead. Then he turns the engine over, and I finish at lightning speed, slipping my bottoms off and patting the towel so it dries my damp skin before slipping on underwear. Next, a tank with a built in bra—because this isn’t my first rodeo—and then the slate-blue, long-sleeved mini dress.
It’s loose and shapeless with a crew neck, the fabric a thick, stretchy knit that hugs my arms and shoulders and flows out to stop mid-thigh. I bought it at the resale store near campus for seven dollars last week. Shoving my feet into my classic brown Birks, I lean down and grab my wet clothes, laying them in the bed of the truck underneath my board, and then I swing open the passenger door and hop up.
“Sorry. I tried to hurry.”
Mal turns his head to stare at me, and then a small grin breaks out over his face. “It took you maybe three minutes, in a parking lot, to strip down and change for Christmas. It takes me ten just to get my pants on these days, so you’re good.”
I yank at my hair until it tumbles down, flicking my fingers through it and scooping it back up to tie it into a top knot. “The wind helped speed the process, because, wow, is it cold.”
He automatically reaches for the heater, bumping it up. I hold my hands in front of it, rubbing them together. Then, Mal turns my heart over in my chest when he takes off his jacket and reaches over to wrap it around me.
“Thank you,” I say.
He just nods, putting the gear shift into drive and whipping out of the lot. If there’s one thing we have in common, it’s that neither of us has patience while we drive. I relax in the passenger seat, comfortable with the silence for the first time in forever, while Mal expertly weaves in an out of the cars on the freeway as we make our way to Chula Vista.
Between the heat, and the smell of Mal surrounding me, I’m almost asleep when we pull up to the curb of Isa’s childhood home.
“You awake?”
Mal’s voice is amused, and I nod, sitting a little straighter. “Just relaxed. Here,” I say, starting to take off his jacket.
“Keep it,” he tells me. And then he looks down at his hands, a little color blooming in his cheeks. “There’s, uh, actually something for you, in the right-hand pocket.”
My own cheeks heating with pleasure, I reach into the pocket, wrapping my fingers around a small package and pulling it out. The box is a small square, wrapped in familiar white butcher paper, tied with natural cranberry raffia ribbon. I’d recognize this paper and ribbon anywhere, since my mom has used it my entire life.
“Merry Christmas, Nalani.”
I whisper, “Thank you,” still staring at the box.
“It’s not a bomb,” he says. “At least, that’s not what I asked Reece for, but it was wrapped before I got there, so I guess it could be.” He’s rambling. His voice is amused, but Malcolm is not a talker, and right now, he’s still going, making small jokes to fill the dead air space in the cab of the truck while I stare at the small package.
“I didn’t want to give it to you in front of everyone else…” he says, and my heart starts to pound even harder. Then he swallows. “You don’t have to open it now.”
“Can I?” I lick my lips, my mouth suddenly bone dry. His eyes track the movement, and then he nods. My fingers rip at the paper, and I offer him a light smile. “You must have paid big to get her to make something custom this close to Christmas. Between her Etsy orders, and the fairs she’s been going to, she hasn’t had time to breathe let alone take new orders.”
Malcom’s eyes are fixed on me, and when I look up, they’re full of something I don’t understand. “It wasn’t such a price to pay,” he says, and leaves it at that. “Now, open it before one of the Rojas women comes out and starts hassling us.”
I laugh, eager now. Admittedly, I like presents. I have never been a girl to reject gifts, because well, presents. Who doesn’t like knowing someone was thinking about them?
The box is the same recycled brown as all the others, my mom’s logo stamped on the top. “Great brand,” I tease, dragging a smile from him, though his eyes stay on the box.
Lifting the lid, I dig through the shredded paper Mom uses in lieu of tissue, and close my fingers around a ring. Tilting my head, I smile and bring it forward from the box, breath catching in my lungs when I see the oblong-shaped light jade stone snugged into a soldered wire setting. The band is thick silver; I know without a doubt it will fit my right index finger perfectly.
Just like the last one that sat there.
