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“Frightening, but fun.”
He laughs as he sucks on his cigarette. The smoke trails out of his nose. “Frightening?”
I shrug. “I’m used to the walls of a car. When there’s nothing blocking me from the pavement when we’re going seventy down the freeway, yeah, it’s a little terrifying.”
“I guess if you don’t know how to whip the ride, sure.”
“How long have you been riding for?”
“Since I was thirteen, maybe.” He flicks the cherry off with his finger. “Come on, I didn’t bring you here to show you a parking lot.” He grabs my arm and pulls me towards the sandy beach.
“Wait, thirteen? Were you even big enough?” I try to catch up to his big steps, but he’s walking fast as hell.
“I was a tall kid.”
He was a tall kid.I nearly snort at his seriousness.
“Holy shit.” My thoughts halt when I see where he’s taking me. It looks to be a secret cove between two large cliffs. The water is angry as it rams against the sharp rocks, but towards the side the water is calm. Night and day, only feet apart from each other. The beach is deserted, as if Aziel is the only one to know about this private spot.
“Yeah?” He asks, plopping down on his ass right under the sun. He stares at some surfers way off into the distance, probably from a beach I noticed as we were driving down the highway, about a mile down the coast.
I stare at him.
“Yeah. Where’d you find this place?” I cross my legs and sit next to him on the sand. The grains are hot between my fingers. The grains feel soft here, like thousands of feet haven’t pummeled through it. It’s pure, untouched.
“Sometimes being at the clubhouse can be too much. It’s like… being in a fucking frat house or something. I was born into the club, it’s all I know. I love it, and it’s a part of me. More than a part of me, actually. It’s most of me. But the other part of me get tired.”
“Tired of what?” I ask softly. This is the first time I’ve heard anything personal about him. It feels like I’m discovering my own secret cove myself.
“The noise, mostly. The people. I’ve got my own place, you know.”
My eyebrows lift. “No, I didn’t. Why do you stay at the clubhouse?”
“I don’t, or, not mostly. Then you showed up. I don’t know, haven’t been to my house in a couple days. But, anyway, even though I have my own place, the guys still show up whenever they want. I feel like we live in a commune or something sometimes. It’s … loud. My anger gets the best of me sometimes. So, one day, I was real pissed off. Before I knew it, I was on my bike and riding towards the ocean. I found this place, and just like that, it’s become a spot for me. No one is ever here when I come here.”
“Your own hideout.” I smile.
“The thing is, the ocean feels louder than all the guys at the clubhouse put together. But it’s still better to me. Quiets the noise.” He taps on his head.
“I get it.” I say softly. And I do. The noise in your head can be unbearable sometimes. It’s nice he’s found a place to drown out the thoughts.
“So, how many girls have you brought to this place?” I start tracing my name in the sand to hide my embarrassment. I sound like a jealous girlfriend. Yuck.
“None.”
I look up at him. “None? Not even one? That’s a little hard to believe.”
He shrugs. “What for? I come here for the quiet. Bringing some broad here defeats that purpose, doesn’t it?”
“Then why bring me here?”
He lifts his hand and runs his finger over my braid, then flips it over my shoulder. “Because I can tell you need to quiet the noise, too.”
My face softens. “Thanks.”
He flips his hat forward, lays back with his arm behind his head.
I copy him, laying back and propping my head on my arm. Turning my head towards him, I say, “I mean it. Thank you for bringing me here… and for opening up.”
