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“Angie said you were…” Her words trail off as she glances around the room. “Fuck, what happened here?”
“Leonard Benson’s vacation seems to be of the Fear and Loathing in Gray’s Cove variety.” I pull off my gloves and toss them into a random pile of garbage in the corner. “I’m so not cleaning this room tomorrow. We need to draw straws with Sierra and Ramona or something.”
“Agreed,” Heather answers, hopscotching her way back into the hall. I tuck the sheer curtains back into the room and shut the door. Out of sight, out of mind. For now, at least.
“Okay, what’s up?” I ask, dumping a generous puddle of hand sanitizer into my palm and directing my attention to my younger sister. “Are you done with rehearsal already?”
“Yeah, it was quick. How to walk, where to walk, where to sit. We didn’t practice the speeches or anything.” Paige shoves at her long, blonde hair as the sea breeze whips through the hotel halls.
“Are you ready for yours?”
She rolls her eyes. “I’ve had this valedictorian speech written since Freshman year.”
I laugh. “Of course you have.”
“But right now, I need a break. I don’t want to think about graduation for at least an hour or two.” Paige jabs her thumb inthe direction of the parking lot. “I have the boards in the truck. Can you take off yet? We can hit a few waves before I prepare for the ceremony.”
I glance over at Heather, eyebrow raised in question.
“As long as 437 doesn’t look like that,” Heather nods toward Leonard’s room. “You’re good to go. I’ve got this.”
I smile. “Call me if you need me.” Then I turn and follow Paige down the hall to the stairwell, my pace building into a sprint. We jog out to the light blue ’82 Bronco and slide into the worn leather seats.
Paige throws a bag at me, and I pull out a sage green bikini. I dip down beneath the height of the windows and wiggle out of my clothes. Once my suit is on, I pull down the visor mirror and run my fingers through my long, purple hair. We step out together and grab our boards from the back.
“I heard the TDC is going to build a catwalk down to the beach sometime this summer,” Paige says, beginning her descent down the sandy switchbacks of the cliffside trail disappearing behind the hotel.
“Fuck, I hope not,” I reply, half-sliding down the steeper steps. “It’s just enough hassle to keep most of the tourists in the parking lot.”
My gaze gravitates to the waves curling through the cove, with smooth swells peaking consistently around six or seven feet. A dozen surfers sit bobbing just beyond the breakers, waiting for the perfect wave.
“You ready for this?” I ask, jogging down the last of the incline to the beach.
“Always,” Paige tosses back with a grin.
We hit the water together, paddling hard, coasting overseveral swells before ducking beneath a wall of whitewater. Unfazed, we continue steadily until we’re out among the group of other surfers. I ensure we’re evenly spaced, then pull the board beneath me to sit.
“Hey, you made it,” a male voice shouts from down the line. I shield my eyes from the sun and smile.
“Gavin. I thought you were working today?”
He laughs, shaking his head. “I’m sick.”
“You look awful,” I reply sarcastically, my gaze lingering on his tanned biceps as he strokes the water beside the board to maintain his position in the current. He’s gorgeous, and he knows it. I may be guilty of occasionally falling into bed with him, but he’s more like a hobby. Like a boat I purchased once for $400 because it was in good shape, but had no motor or trailer. Just a beautiful, stagnant thing that I could lose myself in for a few hours, but I don’t have the capacity to truly fix or understand.
“You should call me later,” he continues.
I laugh. “I have a lot of things to do later.”
I can feel the power in the waves rolling beneath the board, and I watch for the set to rise against the horizon. Spotting the wave I want, moving through the cove like a sea monster, I turn my board around. I offer Gavin a smile as I slide past him.
“But you’re not one of them.”
Laughter rises from the peanut gallery as the other surfers within earshot chime in, fading as I paddle into the roar of the wave.
In one deft motion, I pull myself onto my feet and lean into the curl, sliding down the face. I carve down and back up again, letting the wave guide me. I glide my fingersthrough the wall of water, watching the tunnel forming at my keel. I evade, catching speed, then tuck my body closer to the board as the water curls overhead in a deep blue arch.
For a moment, I let it envelop me, heart pounding, holding me on the precipice. That’s when it’s the best. When one wrong move could fuck it all up, stealing my breath away as I tumble beneath the force of the wash. But I don’t. I hold it, and I know I’ve got this.
