“Back then? It wasn’t that long ago,” Kaia remindsme.
“Feels like it,” I say, stretching my legs out overthe sand. “He won that day, and he deserved it. But I was entitled.I ran my mouth a lot, saying how he always chokes and how he onlywon because his best friend is Vin’s brother. I said it was rigged.I called him white trash. Believe me, if it could be said, I saidit. It’s not something I’m proud of, but I never lost. I goteverything I wanted. Then all of a sudden, I didn’t.”
Of all the things I regret in my life, what happenedwith Miles is at the top of the list. He’s the one person I owe anapology to more than anyone else. If I died tomorrow in a freesurf, I’d be left to roam the earth seeking a medium who couldvisit Miles and relay my unfinished business.
“Would it really be that hard to text him and tellhim you’re sorry?” Kaia asks. “Obviously you’re not going to let goof this. It was what, a year ago? Maybe you just need to swallowyour pride and text him. DM him on Instagram. Mail a letter to hishouse. Even if he never responds, at least you’ll know you saidwhat you needed to say.”
I wish it was that easy. I could type thewords and hit ‘send’ any time, but I always told Cassie it was tooimpersonal, that I needed to say it to his face so he’d know Ireally meant it. Honestly, though, the reason I haven’t apologizedis because I’m afraid he wouldn’t accept it.
“That’s the thing,” I say. “I could apologize, but…”I hesitate to say the words. “I’m still that entitled jackass whowants something out of it. I want redemption. I want him to forgiveme. I want my friends back. It’s selfish, yeah, but I just want togo back home.”
Kaia scrapes the bottom of her cup, trying to salvagethe last bit of frozen yogurt. Mine has mostly melted in the cupwhile I told her about Miles and the Hooligans and how I’m prettysure I’ve messed things up forever.
“You are entitled,” she confirms. “And you’re aspoiled rich kid. But you’re not as awful as I thought you’dbe.”
I tilt my head back to drink my melted toastedmarshmallow. “Wow. Thanks,” I mumble when I pull the cup away frommy mouth.
“I wasn’t finished, jerk,” she snaps. “I was going tosay, before you so rudely interrupted me, that I think you can findredemption. I think you can still go back home, back to your crewand your dirty beaches and even to this Drenaline Surf place thatyou’re stuck on.”
“And how am I going to accomplish this?” I ask.
She looks me directly in the eye, and my heartfalters. Her face is softer than usual, void of that harsh glareshe gives me across the dinner table. For once, she looks as thoughshe cares, as if she’s finally cracked that wall she’s been hidingbehind and is thinking about stepping outside to let the daylightshine on her. The sunset casts a golden hue across her summer tan,making her glow better than any bronzer she could buy in astore.
Then she smiles. “With my help,” she says.
I lean closer to her, close enough to smell thelittle bit of coconut shampoo that Kiagwa didn’t wash away. “Andhow exactly do you plan on helping me?”
“Like this,” she whispers.
Her hand reaches for my cheek and her thumb dragsalong my jaw line. The streak of golden sun between us closes intodarkness as she leans toward me, pressing her soft lips againstmine. I close my eyes and sink into her, tangling my hand in herstill-damp hair, pulling me closer to me.
And just as quickly as the moment happened, she pullsaway. Her face is consumed with instant regret. I’d know that lookanywhere, even though I don’t want to admit that’s what I’mseeing.
“Kaia, wait. What’s wrong?” I reach for her hand, butshe stands, grabbing her bag and distancing herself from me.
“My dad’s your coach,” she says. “This was a mistake.I’m so stupid.”
I scramble to my feet, but she hurries away,leaving me with two empty cups, two plastic spoons, and a beachtowel in the sand.
Chapter Nine – Kaia
The last week has fallen into a prettysteady routine, and it’s allowed me to hide out for the most part.Dominic’s boards arrived the day after the kiss heard around St.Catalina Island. Dad went into super coach mode afterward. They’vebeen up with the dawn, heading out to the lineup before the sun hasofficially risen in the morning sky.
I’ve been sleeping in each day and headingto the resort to meet up with Sloane once I’m up. I’m sure herparents are tired of her dragging the random vacationer back totheir house, but her dad is always at work, and her mom is eitherat garden parties, high society events, or ladies only cruises.
Will doesn’t seem to mind that I lounge intheir pool and watch chick flicks with his sister all day everyday. Island life isn’t so bad, but I do feel a little stir crazyknowing we’re surrounded by water and can’t just take off on theinterstate on a road trip.
“You really haven’t talked to him about thekiss?” Sloane asks, slicing a butcher knife into a freshwatermelon. “I mean, you guys are staying in the same house, andyou just ignore each other?”
“Pretty much,” I say. I hop onto a barstoolbut don’t offer to help. I’m too preoccupied. “I knew better. Itwas just…one of those ‘in the moment’ things. We’d jumped off thewaterfall earlier, and he was telling me all these things about hislife back home. I blame you. You’re the one putting all thisrom-com movie junk in my head.”
“Hey! I resent that,” she counters. “I can’thelp it if I’m hopelessly optimistic about romance and love. I hadno part in you pressing your lips against his.”
She’s right about that. I have no one toblame but myself. I don’t know if it was the island, Kiagwa, or theWest Coast Hooligans, but something got to me in that moment. Maybeit was the frozen yogurt.
It doesn’t
