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“Then go,” I agree reluctantly. “I’ve never stopped you before. I’m not about to start now.”
“You could come with me?”
An absurd laugh escapes me. “Yeah, and do what? I can barely afford the rent for our apartment, I’m in no position to pick up a summer home.”
“It’s an open invitation.”
I sigh. “How are you getting there?”
She shrugs. “Bus.”
I shake my head. “Take the Bronco. I can walk to work.”
A small smile lifts at the corners of her lips. “Really?”
I nod. “Just… don’t do anything stupid. Park and walk when you drink. It’s going to need an oil change when you get there.” I roll my eyes. Fuck. I’m losing my company and my ride for the entire summer. I guess I’ll have time to revisit that $400 project boat.
Her smile broadens. “You know I don’t drink.”
“Florida,” I repeat, shaking my head, still trying to absorb it. “Do they even surf in Florida?”
Paige laughs. “Little waves, with big boards. And you know, even if we’re on opposite coasts, we’ll always have this.” Sheraises her cupped hand, letting the sea trickle out from between her fingers. “All the oceans touch.”
“I hate you,” I lie, swallowing the lump in my throat.
“I hate you, too,” Paige replies.
It hurts more than I care to think about. But I understand. The world has done its part to hold us back, and I’m not about to be next in line. Paige deserves all the possibilities life has to offer. I just have to accept it, and trust she will be okay.
We rise and fall with the surf, and I feel the set moving in. A churning chaos of sea and salt and sand just below the surface, pulled into the magnetic power of the wave, and building into something beautiful. I glance over at Paige.
Beautiful, like her.
“Let’s get ready for your ceremony,” I say, nodding toward the shore.
“The first one to the beach gets the first shower,” Paige replies, turning her board.
“You’re on.”
A wave rises high on the horizon, sharpening at the peak as it prepares to fall. We paddle, gaining speed until the wave grabs hold. I let her go first this time, and trace the line of her wake.
Chapter 2
Skye
“Oh, shit,” Heather says, head bobbing, her hips swaying to the beat. “Who’s this? I like her sound.” She walks over to the housekeeping cart and turns the volume up on the Bluetooth speaker, dancing through the room. Tendrils of red hair fall out of her messy top bun and into her face, dust rag swinging.
I laugh. “It’s a local band Paige sent me from Pelican Beach. Jupiter Crash. I added it to my Spotify. They’re pretty good.”
There’s something about the lead singer that strikes a chord in me. The passion and the pain in her words, breathy vocals that linger in my mind long after the song has ended.
She has a song out called Paper Flowers, about the beauty of the world folded like pretty little flowers. Fragile and easily cast by the wind, yet with no life of their own. Molded by another, only to end up as trash. I can’t help but feel it, pretty on the surface, waiting for the breeze to move me because I lack the roots to stay. Knowing I can never have what thereal flowers do.
“Speaking of the wayward younger sis, how is she doing over there? It’s been, what? Two months? A little more?” Heather asks, glancing at me.
I shrug, moving to scrub at a stain on the kitchen counter. “She’s good, I guess. She moved into an apartment with a girl named Mia and started waiting tables at a restaurant on the beach. A place called the Sandbar and Grill.” I pause. “She’s dating her boss.”
“Scandalous,” Heather gushes, her mouth dropping open. “I didn’t know she had it in her. Way to go, Paige.”
