“Towels,” Aubrey asks.
“Check.”
“Binky?”
“Check.”
“Sunscreen?”
“Check.”
“Am I forgetting anything?”
“Yeah, you forgot to get into the car. Hurry up, woman, we’re gonna struggle for parking if we don’t leave right now.”
I turn to watch Gabriella, enjoying the fact she still chooses to ignore me.
Oh, this shall be fun. You’ve already crawled under her skin and caused damage. Let’s make it ten times worse.
Chance suggests I sit in the front seat with him. I decide it’s a good idea considering Pixy is in the back, and being close to him makes my skin prickle with fear. We had an almost altercation in the bathroom this week. Pixy was inside, and I needed to pee. He didn’t move. I asked him kindly for privacy, then got the death stare.
Fucking goat.
We packed into Chance and Aubrey’s red minivan, driving an hour over to Newport Beach. Chance was right, parking’s a goddamn nightmare, but we manage to score a spot without having to walk too far.
I exit the car, stretching my arms and legs from the drive over. On one side, there’s oceanfront mansions and a yacht-lined harbor. On the other side, there’s a bunch of historic cottages, dive bars, and a string of eateries.
The day is nice with blue sky and a warm summer ocean breeze. It feels a lot like back home in Sydney. Bondi Beach is one of my usual hangouts, and something about this place reminds me of home.
Chance is carrying CJ plus a bunch of stuff, which I grab off him. Aubrey has Pixy on his leash, and I distance myself, walking alongside Chance to an empty part of beach, though close enough to the water. There is a stage a few feet away holding some entertainment as well as the trophies for the upcoming surf competition.
People arrived in droves, all settling around us. The music’s blaring and girls are stripping down to barely nothing. The girls are relentless, all laughing and chugging beer and dancing around with their tits bobbing in their tiny bikinis. Wherever I look, there’s arse in a g-banger or as the Americans love to call them, thongs.
Gabriella had sat as far away from me as possible, behind the bags and stuff Aubrey packed. Still dressed in her muumuu and shorts, the heat proves too much for her, forcing her removal of clothing. Resting on my elbows with only my swim shorts and sunglasses on to protect myself from the harsh rays, I pretend not to notice she had taken off the muumuu. Beneath it, she’s wearing a rather modest one-piece khaki swimsuit with this zig-zag thing happening near her tits.
Don’t fucking look. These shorts are the worst for displaying your hard-on.
The sand is softly golden with just the right comforting warmth. I’m enjoying myself, and the views, until a hoard of girls stop in our section.
With Pixy attracting all the attention, and Aubrey taking the opportunity to introduce me as the Aussie thunder from down under in her godawful Aussie accent, I motion for Chance to control his woman.
“Babe, let’s take CJ and Pixy for ice cream.”
Aubrey sighs, slightly annoyed. “Fine! Will you guys be okay?”
I nod at the same time Gabriella smiles.
With the four of them gone, I prop myself up on an elbow and turn to face Gabriella. She’s lying on her stomach, arse in full view, oblivious to my longing stare. So what if it has the perfect curves—a nice palm would look good slapped against it leaving a pink mark.
Fuck—cool the arse talk.
“Hey, I’m sorry for whatever happened that night for you to hate me so much,” I blurt out, wanting an end to the awkward tension between us.
“I don’t hate you,” she says, remaining still. “Hate is such a strong word.”
“Well, upset you.”
“You didn’t upset me.” Gabriella lifts her head, and behind her sunglasses, I can see her eyes staring back at me. “I was already upset with myself, so whether it was you or someone else, I would have still been upset.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.”
“Okay, but you were not fine that night despite your reluctance to admit it.”
“No, I was not,” she admits.
“Does Prince Charming know you’re not fine?”
“Prince Charming?” It takes her a moment to register. Propping herself up on her elbows, she removes her glasses with a satisfied smirk. “It seems to bug you… the sentiment.”
I flip a strand of hair out of my face, blowing out a nosy breath in my defense. “It doesn’t bug me. You were willing to take me home, yet somewhere, roaming these streets is Prince Charming.”
She rolls onto her side, flicking her hair back while checking her tan line beneath her strap.
“His name is Sebastian. The Prince Charming name is kind of joke between us. We’re not together. We’re on a break. So, does that answer all your questions?
“You’re married? Or a separation,” I quiz, trying to understand
“Not quite… engaged. Well, it’s complicated.”
The pang hits me, knocking me hard from a place unknown.
You cannot possibly be jealous of a guy called Prince Charming. Man the fuck up. You don’t even know this chick, why are you letting her crawl under your skin and affect you like this. Find your balls, Olly.
“Okay, so you’re engaged but on break?”
“I guess, technically,” she replies with uncertainty. I don’t think even she knows what it all means. “Look, I’m here, and he’s back in Colorado. We both agreed to separate, so I could come out here. That’s it.”
“That’s it?” I retort, her dismissive attitude is laughable. “I think you’re missing a big chunk of the equation.”
“Really? Like how you’re an ex-soccer player? Maybe you want to elaborate on that?”
I remain quiet, and it’s as if she has the upper hand and watches me with a curious gaze. There is nothing I want to add, nor any inclination to continue this part of the conversation. If anything, I want to welcome back Chance, Aubrey, CJ, and even Pixy.
The surf competition goes on for a few hours. There’s a presentation, medals, and every so
