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“What about you? Did you hook up with the interview guy while you were in the city?” I make kissing sounds.
Drew shakes his head, pushing my face away.
“No, but I did pick up a stack,” he says, handing me the Rolling Stone magazine from the pile.
“Damn. I made the cover?” I ask, flipping through it.
“Sure did. I think I went a little overboard though,” Drew says laughing. “I’m gonna frame and hang them on the walls. Damn dude, do you really like her?”
“Is that the new model?” I ask, changing the subject and motioning to the bike.
“This is the prototype. What do you think?” he replies, staring at the black bike in the back of his truck.
I keep stealing glances at the back door like there’s a chance she might miraculously reappear, but judging by how much I behaved like a horny asshole, my chances are next to nothing. We lift the bike out of the back, and I check out the new frame. “I like it but maybe we could ask Mac to sand it down a little.” I motion to the bar.
“I was actually thinking the same thing,” Drew says, squatting beside the bike, his hand traveling across the straight lines.
“You know what they say, don’t you?” I ask my best friend.
“Don’t fuck your sort of stepsister?” Drew smiles. “Or great minds think alike?”
“Fuck you,” I laugh, changing into a semi-clean long-sleeved Henley I find on the workbench. I smack the end of my wet T-shirt against his ass, he chuckles, and I drop it in the washer in the corner.
“Sweet dreams, princess,” he jokes. “Hey, you want to go surfing tomorrow, before we work on the bike with Mac?”
“Yeah, why not, say around five?”
“Better bring your A game,” he drawls.
“You bet your ass I will. Later asshole,” I wave, heading for my room.
It’s not even light out when I meet Drew in the garage. Handing him a coffee, he rubs the sleep from his eyes, his yawn a mile wide, leaning against the table.
“You ready?” I murmur. “The storm from last night is bound to bring in some good waves.”
Nodding, he pushes himself from the workbench. “Yeah, let’s head to the beach,” he says, stretching his arms high above his head.
I slam my hands on my legs. “Hustle, let’s go, grandpa,” I say, walking toward the boards in the back of the garage. I need to clear my head and the best way to do that is to go out into the ocean. I spent the better part of the night tossing and turning, thinking about Sky.
“Come on, dude, we still have a couple hours before the tourists storm the beach,” I say, picking up the longboard and heading to his pickup truck.
“What really happened between you and Sky yesterday?” he asks.
“Nothing,” I answer, and he gives me a look. I shake my head, “I don’t know what I’m doing.”
He comes after me with his board tucked under his arm. “Why don’t you ask her out or something?”
“Ask her out? Are you crazy? Jay would kill me,” I say, as he helps me load the boards in the truck bed.
He smirks. “Yeah, but when did Jay getting angry ever hold you back? She’s probably leaving in a couple of weeks,” he says, crossing his arms in front of him.
“My point exactly.”
He raises his brows, like it’s a dare. I fucking hate it when he does that.
“What are you saying, Drew? Screw her a couple times and move on?” I ask while he hands me the keys to his truck.
“You’re driving, and no. Take her out to dinner, try to get to know a girl before you screw her over,” he says, getting into the passenger seat.
