12. Britta

Chapter twelve

Britta

If you'd told me a year ago, I'd fall stupid in love within a matter of minutes, I would have laughed hysterically. Falling in love is not on my to-do list. Or my bullet list. Definitely not on my shopping list. But here I am, picking up a value-size, heart-shaped pack of love.

There's no use denying it. I am utterly, hopelessly in love with…surfing.

Falling in love with a person is very much off the table. At least for now, and at least with Dex. Even if I weren't trying to find my bearings after losing Mom, Dex and I live very different lives. He has to be near the ocean, and I have to be near Britta's, which is nowhere near an ocean. So, despite the hottest, most toe-curling kiss of my life—second only to the last time Dex kissed me—an actual relationship with him is out of the question.

That doesn't mean I have no interest in being kissed like that again. Or even a few more times like that. Kissing only has to do with love when you want it to.

Surfing, though, has stolen my heart.

Sure, the attraction started with Dex's looks. His kisses flooded me with heat first, but the same fire surges through me as I watch him glide across a wave, moving back and forth over it like they're a perfectly matched pair of ballroom dancers. The ocean leads, but Dex is very much in charge.

It's both beautiful and terrifying to watch. At any second, the wave could do something unpredictable and trip up Dex's carefully planned choreography. Not just trip him. Toss him and turn him like a dryer full of rocks. I'm on the edge of my seat, waiting for what Dex and his beautifully dangerous partner will do next.

I'm brimming with a nervous energy, wave after wave, heat after heat. Dex barely has time to recover between his heats while the women surf theirs. Then he's back in the ocean again. Stella and I watch all Dex's heats from the box with Archie. The giant windows, and the box's position above the stands and the crowd, allow us a perfect view. But when we want a close-up shot, we turn to the live feed from the TV on the one windowless wall that doesn't face the ocean.

There are twelve heats total, thirty-five minutes each. First the men go, then the women, with the winners moving on to the next heats, until there are two men, and two women left. The best two out of three heats for each determines who the champions are.

My fingernails slowly disappear as I chew on them each time Dex's score falls below his opponents', but Archie stays calm through all of it. During the women's heats, he disappears, and I assume he's with Dex. Stella and I stay put. I want Dex to stay focused as much as Archie does. When Dex surfs, Archie watches with his arms crossed, barely commenting after each of Dex's waves, and only lightly when Dex's scores are announced.

I don't get the same level of pumping adrenaline watching the other surfers—probably because I don't know them personally—but I still get a rush of excitement and awe. Especially watching the women surf. Their grace and power make me wish I'd grown up riding waves.

Male or female, each surfer has their distinct style. But none of them has the same cooperative relationship Dex did with his perfect ten wave in his first, nerve-racking heat. As little as I understand about surfing, I'm positive that ride will be one for the history books.

After that heat-winning performance, Dex takes every wave with a confidence that easily leads to win after win. He has a few rounds that don't go as planned, but nearly every ride is riveting. None has the same magic that perfect ten wave did—not even the last wave he rides that wins him the championship title—but his strength, determination, and joy is inspiring.

When the horn blows at the end of the last heat, Archie erupts. The final scores haven't been announced, but everyone knows Dex has clinched the title.

"He did it! That little ripper did it!" Archie jumps, pumping his fist in the air, cursing up a storm in between happy cheers.

Then he runs to meet Dex, navigating the rocky beach more expertly than a mountain goat in the Tetons. He splashes into the ocean, crashes into Dex, and they both tumble into the water. When they regain their feet, they're still embracing and buried in each other's necks. I can't see their faces, but the live feed shows a close-up of their shaking shoulders. My eyes water, too.

From the loudspeaker, the announcer talks about what a huge win this is for Dex after two separate comebacks. Archie and Dex make their way out of the water, arms slung over each other's shoulders, and I get an even stronger sense of how close they are.

Witnessing their bond—how they belong together and have all this history—I realize they're not just friends. They're brothers. Archie's getting as much delight out of Dex's win as Dex is, and that's what family is really about; people who know you well enough to cry with and for you, whether from joy or grief.

Suddenly, I'm flooded with a homesickness I haven't felt since I've been here. Maybe it's the emotion of the moment, but I miss my Dad. I miss my brothers. I miss all the people in Paradise who feel like family. Most of all, I miss Mom.

Stella and I wait in the box, watching out the window, as Dex and Archie make their way up the beach. It's slow going as microphones are shoved in Dex's face and he stops to make comments. The volume on the TV behind me is too low to hear what he says over the talking and cheering of the others around us.

But during one quick interview, Dex's eyes drift to the box until he finds me. Then he sends me a big wave. The surrounding crowd follows his gaze, and suddenly the spotlight is shining on me. Not a literal one, obviously, but I feel as hot as if it was. I return Dex's wave with a much smaller one, then retreat further into the box, away from view.

And a second feeling hits me, almost as intensely as the homesickness that's left me unsteady.

This isn't my place. I barely know Dex. I'm not like the other people in this box who've been watching their family and close friends, not just today, but for years. I'm not Dex's support system. I'm just a girl who showed up today because he kissed her once—now twice—and she likes the way he looks without a shirt.

And when I look at this whole situation in that light, I sound a lot like a groupie—or whatever girls are called who chase surfers. In hockey, those girls are known as puck bunnies. Are they called surf bunnies in surfing? Am I a surf bunny?

"We should go congratulate him." Stella tugs on my hand, but I stay planted.

"I don't want to get in his way."

"Uh, judging by the way he greeted you after his first win, you won't be ‘in his way.' I get the vibe he'd love for you to be more ‘in his way.'" Stella makes liberal use of air quotes each time she repeats my words.

The fact Dex may want me to be "in his way" is exactly why I shouldn't be. I don't want to give him the wrong idea about what his kiss meant or why I'm here. I enjoy hanging out with Dex. I want to have fun while I'm in LA. But not that kind of fun.

Kissing is one thing. Anything beyond that belongs in relationship territory, at least for me. And relationship territory feels even more dangerous than surfing in shark territory.

I'm even less interested in being the second trophy Dex takes home tonight. Dex doesn't seem like that kind of guy anymore, but I've scrolled far enough back on his Insta to see pics with a lot of different girls. And there is no shortage of girls in bikinis surrounding him right now, and by the looks of it, he doesn't mind.

So, I stay in the box while Dex goes on the temporary stage to receive his huge silver chalice-looking trophy. He and Caitlin Simmers, the women's champion, get sprayed with so much champagne, they sip it from their giant champagne-glass-shaped trophies. When he holds the trophy over his head, his smile is so big that I want to be down there celebrating with him.

All day, I've watched the wave here peel down the middle, moving with equal power in opposite directions. That's what I feel like now. Part of me wants to be by Dex's side, celebrating this huge win like I've dreamed of it for as long as he has. Like, I really understand how important this is for him because I've loved surfing my whole life, not just for the past eight hours. The easiest thing to do would be to give into temptation and join the party below and let our attraction lead wherever it will.

The other part of me knows this is all temporary. The stage and stands will come down. The event tents and portable structures will be stored away. Anything we start while I'm here, stays here. Dex will keep traveling the world to surf. I'll go back to my regular life in Paradise, which, I worry, will be even less satisfying than before if I get pulled too far into Dex's more exciting life.

So, I use every ounce of willpower to keep from going to the beach where he can see me again. I watch as he does quick media interviews. There are a lot of congratulations in between and other people to talk to. I have a bird's-eye view of it all and am happy to watch Dex celebrate from afar. Stella is in the mix somewhere—Stella is always in the mix somewhere—but I've lost sight of her.

There's food in here, so I gorge myself on chips and guac while Dex gets all the praise he deserves. Eventually, people walk up the path away from the beach and the crowd thins, and I spot her talking to Dex and Archie. She points up at me, wiping away any question about what they're talking about.

I wave to Dex, who lifts his trophy again, then motions me to come down to the beach where they are. I hesitate, still feeling pulled in two directions, but I can't ignore him. Mostly because he's the number one surfer in the entire world, but also because he's my ride back to my car.

I head in their direction, but before I get far, my phone dings in my back pocket. When I see a message from Adam, I immediately worry it's about Britta's. Adam doesn't just call out of the blue to say hi, and after our conversation yesterday, I've been expecting to hear from him.

I push play on the message and listen to Adam's gravelly voice. "We're going to have to make some hard decisions about whether Britta's can be saved. Call me ASAP."

The air grows close, pressing in on me as I listen to the message a second time.

I should have known things wouldn't go as planned if I left. Trailing my fears about a casual relationship with Dex, Adam's message feels like a sign.

I don't miss Paradise, but I have a sudden longing to be with everyone there. I should take care of Britta's —no matter who it belongs to now—because it was Mom's. I should carry on her legacy. I should take care of my dad and help my brother Bear and Cassie plan their wedding, taking Mom's place as the core of our family.

I want to call Adam right now. I need to call him. But not here.

Whatever hard decisions need to be made can't be made at the beach, after Dex's win. Not with people filing past me, brimming with a happy energy that comes from being part of something incredible, even just as a spectator.

"Britta!"

I turn at Stella's voice. Archie and Dex are with her, all walking my way with huge smiles, pulsing with an excitement I can feel from ten feet away. An excitement I chose not to share a few minutes ago, but now I can't even fake.

"We're celebrating tonight!" Stella says, and I force a smile as the three of them approach. "Rip Tide is throwing a huge party, and we're invited."

I face Dex but keep an arm's-length distance between us. I dodge his hug when he puts his arms up. "That was amazing! Congratulations! I knew you could do it."

I want to say more about how incredible he was to watch. How I held my breath after an aerial when he was so far in the whitewash, seconds passed before we knew whether he'd landed it. When he came out of the wave, standing upright, my heart rose to my throat, and I wanted to throw my arms around him.

"You're going to come tonight, right?" Dex asks, his face bright and shiny. "You're welcome to stay another night at the house. That's where the party will be. The execs are ordering in all kinds of food and getting a DJ."

"There will be famous people there. Stars, Britta," Stella says with actual stars in her eyes.

Which makes what I have to say even harder. If I stay there another night, I risk Dex expecting more than I have in me to give right now. Or, worse, expecting only a one-night stand. And, yes, we're both grown-ups capable of being honest with one another, but I can't add an awkward conversation with Dex about expectations to my already full plate.

"I'm sorry, Dex. I don't think we can." I feel more than see Stella's disappointed expression, but I can't avoid it on Dex's face. It goes deeper than not having me in his bed tonight, and for a fleeting second, I wonder if I've lost more than a chance to party with celebrities.

"What? Why?" Stella asks.

With a deep breath, I turn to her, away from the confusion that's replaced the disappointment on Dex's face. "There are big problems with Britta's to figure out. My laptop is back at the apartment, and I need to look at finances. And I already told Annie I'd come in tomorrow. I don't want to cancel on her again." I throw out every reason I can find. They're all legitimate, but somehow that's less reassuring than it should be that I've made the right choice leaving.

"Maybe I'll see you when you get back?" I keep my voice neutral, no sign of expectations.

"I hope so," Dex says with a wishful optimism that nearly undoes my resolve to leave.