“He should be here any minute,” Dad says when I sitnext to him. “His dad is dropping him off. He’s a good kid. I thinkyou’ll get along with him just fine.”
“It’s not like I’m going to be hanging out with him,”I remind Dad. “You guys are training and surfing. I’m just doing myown thing.”
Dad looks toward the ceiling and shakes his head.“We’re staying in the same house,” he says. “There are stillmealtimes, events on the island, other things. You can’t completelyignore him. I’m not saying be his best friend. Just get along andmake it pleasant. I really need this job, Kaia, and I hate thatit’s interfered with our summer, but I’m doing the best I can.”
Ugghhh. The only things worse than a summer guilttrip is a sunburn and itchy bug bites.
“I know,” I admit. “I get it. I do.I know you need this, and I amthe one who said I needed an escape from life athome. My wish was your command. I just got more than I bargainedfor.”
“Thanks for doing this for me,” he says. “It’s goingto be fun. I promise.”
He begins to say something else, but his gaze shootsover my shoulder and he jumps to his feet. He’s gone in a blurbefore I can even ask what’s up. I spin in my seat and watch Dadrush toward the admittedly beautiful brunette boy dragging twosurfboard bags in with him. Another man carrying luggage stops toshake Dad’s hand.
So that’s them – the Richardsons. I try to benonchalant, like I’m just casually glancing over, but it’s hard toplay it cool when they’re basically off of the pages of magazines.His dad looks like he belongs in a fancy watch advertisement, theones where men in expensive suits lean against a sports car whilechecking the time.
And Dominic… Well, he’s exactly what I would expectof a rich kid who likes to surf. He’s tall and clean cut but alsomuscular and a bit edgy. He’s definitely prettier than most of theworld’s top surfers. It actually makes me want to throw up in mymouth a little bit. He’s so clichéd, and sadly, that equals successin our society.
I grab my phone and swipe the screen. Then I openInstagram and browse through random pictures of succulents and bohojewelry to make myself look uninterested in what’s happening aroundme. I don’t intend on getting to know this guy. From what I’veheard, he acted like a crybaby over losing an event and thenpartied his way into flunking out of college. He may look the partof a spoiled rich kid, but he clearly lives the spoiled rich lifeas well. His daddy may be able to get him out of some trouble, butI’m not about to engage with that kind of drama.
“And this is my daughter, Kaia,” Dad says asfootsteps approach me. He motions a hand toward me. “She’s with memost summers, so she’ll be going with us.”
“Oh, cool,” Dominic says, extending a hand toward me.“Dominic Richardson. Nice to meet you. Do you surf?”
I reach for his hand, noticing every vein and howthey tighten in his arm as his hand grasps mine. He smells likesunscreen, and it makes me wonder if he’s already had a morningsurf.
“Not if I can help it,” I reply. “That’s always beenmore of Dad’s thing.”
“That’s a shame,” he says, exhaling a sigh after. “Ifigured good surf genes had to run in the family. Thought maybe youcould teach me something too.”
I scrunch my nose and shake my head. “Sorry. Not myforte. But you’re in good hands with my dad.”
He reaches back for his carry-on bag and sayssomething to his dad, so I use the opportunity to glance back at myphone. I pull up the ongoing group text I have with my friends backhome and start to tell them about my summer predicament. Ioccasionally cut my eyes toward Dad and Dominic as they go throughtheir checklist with Mr. Richardson regarding boards and equipmentand whether or not they brought enough surf wax for his quiver. Dadsays something about surf shops on the island as I type the words‘he’s incredibly hot,’ but then I change my mind.
I delete the entire thing and exit the message. One,I don’t want to admit to anyone that he’s incredibly hot. Myfriends don’t need to know about his chiseled jaw line or darkbrown eyes or how his arm vein pops through his skin and makes mewant to run my fingers over it all day long. Two, I don’t want themhounding me for photographic proof or seeking him out online. I’mnot about to ask him for a photo, and I don’t want to send themscreenshots of his Instagram. In fact, I don’t even want them toknow he exists because they’d find a way to make this awkward ashell for me.
And three, there’s no point in telling them anyway.We said we’d keep in touch and still be best friends forever aftergraduation, but I already feel us slipping into that black holethat is life after high school. Last I heard, Isabelle was headedto Costa Rica with her family, but she only sent two photos to thegroup text. Christa and her boyfriend broke up since they’re goingto college in different states, but she didn’t want ice cream orcompany after the split. We’re all scattered across the galaxy, toobusy to hang out and too wrapped up in our own worlds to keep upwith each others. This is our new normal.
I don’t know where they are right now, but Iknow my spot in the galaxy is about to be on St. CatalinaIsland.
Chapter Two – Dominic
“They’re busted,” I say, slamming the bagonto the airport floor. I kick it aside and run my hand through myhair. “Fucking busted.”
Glenn snaps his head toward me, and I debateapologizing for the language, but when I glance down at the creasealong
