20. Dex

Chapter twenty

Dex

" L oving surfing that much doesn't leave you a lot of time for anything else, does it?" Britta asks.

"Not much." I shrug and drop my eyes from hers.

It's a leading question. Is she asking if I have time for relationships? Time for her? I'm not sure. And does it matter if she's not planning to stay in LA more than a few more weeks?

The truth is, staying competitive doesn't leave a lot of time for anything else. That's why I just won the world title. I cut out everything else in my life except surfing.

But when I look at Britta, when I see her smile or hear her laugh, I feel the same rush of adrenaline I get when I ride a perfect wave. Everything falls into place and my focus is entirely on her. I don't want to be anywhere but right here, right now.

Talking to her silences the surrounding noise in the same way the ocean does when I'm watching the horizon for a good set. There's anticipation and excitement, but also a calmness I only get when I'm rolling up and down with the sea. A peacefulness that comes from knowing a wave will always come. If not today, then tomorrow.

And I've basically just told her I don't have time for her.

I immediately want to take it back, re-explain, but I take another piece of sushi instead. Because…I don't know what I offer or what I'm willing to give up for a relationship with anyone, even her. She's not staying in LA. There's no life for me in Paradise, Idaho.

The realization sits heavy, and so I push through it. I don't want to ruin this night, which has been perfect so far. I want to keep it that way, so I'll hold on to the fantasy of Britta and me for another few hours. Reality can wait.

"Annie's pretty awesome, isn't she?" I say to change the subject.

"She's amazing." Britta sits up, and a happy energy returns to buzz around us. "She reminds me so much of my mom."

"Really?" I ask, picturing Annie's round dark face and grey-black braids while also remembering the very pale-faced Scandinavian look of Britta's entire family back in Idaho. I never met her mom, but it's hard to imagine a resemblance. And then I realize what she means and feel my cheeks light up. She didn't mean they looked similar.

"Annie does so much for people and everyone loves her for it. My mom was that way, too," Britta explains. "She drew people together and helped them find purpose. I love watching Annie do that here. In a city of millions, she makes everyone feel seen. You know what I mean?"

"Yeah." I nod. "When Archie, Frankie, Rhys, and I first came to LA to film Surf City High, she was a surrogate mom. She learned how to make our favorite Australian desserts; did she tell you that?"

"Yeah," Britta takes a roll from the new plate the chef puts in front of us. "By the way, sushi is delicious. I didn't expect that, but it is."

"Most people wouldn't dive right in the way you have your first time." I like that about Britta. She doesn't shrink from a challenge.

She looks down at the empty plates surrounding her. "I'll take that as a compliment."

"You should." I take a sip of water to wash down the lobster roll.

"Annie said she had a chain coffee store offer to buy her place." Britta lays down her chopsticks and sips her Japanese beer like she hasn't delivered a potentially devastating blow.

"She won't sell." I say it more to comfort myself than because I believe it.

"She may have to. Her daughter needs full-time care, and even with all the money people have donated to help her, she can't pay for the help Keesha needs." Britta's eyes wander to mine. "I've been there. It took my whole family rotating around our different businesses, helping wherever and whenever we could, to keep them running while we took care of Mom, too."

"Georgia's told me a bit. I know it was rough, especially on you." I glance at Britta, pleased to find her smiling softly at me. "Annie doesn't have much family around, but I can't see her ever selling to a Starbucks or another chain." The reason Annie's feels like a piece of home isn't just because of Annie. So many of our coffee joints in Aus hold near and dear to my heart because of the love they show their locals, and Annie shows that love to the people of LA.

Britta lays her chopsticks across her plate and stares at them. "She'd like me to buy it. She wants the new owner to keep working with the nonprofit to train unhoused people to be baristas. But there's no way I could come up with the kind of money I'd need to buy."

I nod along as Britta talks, wondering if she'd actually buy Annie's if she had the money. Would she want to move to LA permanently? I don't reckon she would, but there's a longing in her eyes I haven't seen when she talks about going back to Paradise and Britta's. And, hard as I try not to let it, Archie's marriage idea slips into my brain.

"If you had the money, and Britta's weren't in the picture, would you want to buy Annie's ? Would you leave Paradise for LA?" The wheels in my head spin through possibilities. Archie's idea is crazy, but it might be an option if Britta wants to stay in LA. If it's something that would work for her, too.

Her mouth plays at a smile. She crosses her arms and leans forward on the counter. The thread-thin strap of her dress falls over her shoulder, and I tuck my hands in my pockets to keep from sliding it back into place.

"Dex…" she takes a breath, but I've lost mine in the sound of my nickname on her lips. "I think I might. I mean, if we're talking about dreams that will never come true, yeah, I'd love to try something new while still doing something I love. Because I do love having my coffee shop, I just feel stuck in Paradise sometimes." She tilts her head to the side. "Most of the time, actually."

Her voice is wispy, like dandelion fluff floating through the air, almost within reach before it's carried away on a breeze.

I've been pummeled by a rogue wave— Britta would stay in LA if she had the money to buy Annie's . As I recover from the surprise of that info, my crazy thought surfaces as a fully formed idea. Getting married could mean Britta gets her dream, too.

"What about you? Do you have an impossible dream now that you've reached the pinnacle of surfing?" she asks, as though she's read my mind, and cracks open a window of opportunity. "Or do you feel like nothing is out of reach now that you've won the giant champagne glass?" Her eyes sparkle in the light of flickering candle votive between us, like the night sky above is a campfire.

"The Olympics. That's my dream." I don't hesitate, even though I've only told my closest friends that's what I want more than anything.

"Ohh. That's a good one. There's no surfing in the Olympics, right? So it's even more impossible than my dream." Britta picks the crab off the top of a roll with no idea how wrong she is.

"Surfing was added in 2020." I fake being chill.

Inside, I'm on high alert, waiting for the right moment to drop in with my idea and ride the trickiest wave of my life to completion.

"Really?" She laughs. "I haven't watched the Summer Olympics since I was a kid. I'm always too busy to even pay attention during the summer. And there's no hockey."

"There's field hockey."

Britta raises a disappointed eyebrow. "Like I said, there's no hockey in the Summer Olympics."

I laugh, and she cracks a smile.

"So your dream isn't impossible at all. You could be on the Australian team, couldn't you? I mean, you're The World Champion Surfer." She emphasizes each word, like she did the first time she said them.

"Probably not the Australian team." This is my moment. "But possibly the American team."

"American team?" Britta's face scrunches into a confused expression. "Don't you have to be American to be on the American team?"

"My mum's got dual citizenship, so I have a connection to the US, but I don't have citizenship."

"And you'd need that to be on the team?"

I nod.

"What do you have to do to get it?" She picks another piece of crab off a roll, pops it in her mouth, then slides the tip of her tongue over her lips. "Whatever that is, it's fantastic."

"Crab. It's crab." I slide my sweating palms down my trousers. "Yeah, I'd have to officially immigrate and do heaps of paperwork. I've got a lawyer working on that. It's a long process, lots of hoops and waiting periods. We're hoping we can get it done in time for me to qualify for the next Olympics, but I'm not sure if that's possible."

"That sounds stressful." She props her chin on her fist, leaning close enough I could kiss her. "What about the Olympics after that? Could you be on the American team then?"

"Eight years from now?" I say, lifting my eyebrows and giving her a smile. "The Games are in Brisbane, so I'd want to surf for Australia, but I'm already getting old for this sport. I go up against guys ten years my junior. I think I can do the next Olympics in four years if I give it everything I've got, but to compete for the first time when I'm almost forty isn't even unreachable-dream level. It's impossible." I shrug, trying to hide how discouraging it is to say all this out loud and pick up another piece of sushi.

Britta grabs another piece of sushi. "So, then, the only other option is to marry an American, right?"

My head snaps up and I drop the sushi into the wasabi-soy sauce. I stare at her hand covering her mouth. Is she chewing? Or wishing she could take back what she's said? Her eyes sparkle, which may mean she's joking, or may just be the light bouncing off her blue irises. I can't be sure, but I don't want to miss my chance if she's serious.

"Funny story…" I suck in my breath, then I go for it.

I tell her Archie's plan, which suddenly doesn't seem quite so mad, knowing she has a dream of her own I could make happen if I add a twist of my own:

I give Britta enough money for a down payment on Annie's , and she marries me so I can become an American Olympian.