8. Britta

Chapter eight

Britta

D ex and I lock eyes as Stella and I step past the security guard with Archie. I hear a distant introduction between Archie and Stella, although Stella makes it clear she knows who he is as soon as she calls him Dylan, his character's name on Surf City High .

I stay focused on Dex. His lip pulls into a slight grin, as though he's happy to see me, but he's holding back just how happy. So, I temper my own excitement.

The closer we get, the harder I have to work to keep my smile in check and my eyes on his face rather than his bare chest. I succeed at only one of those things, and it's not keeping my eyes up.

Dex has peeled off his wetsuit to his waist, and I have a front-row seat to a water show that could rival the spouting-fountain shows set to music at any fancy Vegas hotel. Tiny droplets fall from the tips of his brown curls to his tan shoulders. There, the hardiest of the drops continue their journey down his pecs, then his abs, all the way to… whatever he has on under his form-fitting, neoprene work of wonder.

Do surfers wear anything under their wetsuits ?

I immediately banish the question. Totally inappropriate. None of my business. I will never say that out loud. Ever.

"Did you already surf, Dex?" Stella asks when we're within a few feet.

Dex drags his eyes from me to her. "Yeah."

"Really?" Stella's face drops. "We left at five—maybe a little after—but it was crazy getting down here. Then it took forever to find a place to park. We had no idea there would be this many people here!"

I let her do the talking while I go back to Dex's water show. I can't say whether it's true that watching paint dry is boring, but I can confirm that watching water dry on Dex's chest and shoulders isn't boring at all.

National Geographic could do a whole, award-winning documentary on the phenomenon.

While Stella goes into too much detail about traffic and parking, people pass Dex with a wave and a "tough break, man." Or "hope you can get back out there soon."

Then Stella asks, "Do you wear anything under that wetsuit?"

"Stella!" I hope the shock in my voice covers any anticipation in my face, because a beat of silence follows where we both wait for Dex to answer.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Dex is full-on grinning now, but before he can answer, Archie steps protectively in front of him.

"Sorry, you girls came all the way down here for nothing. We just got word competition's been called off for the day." He crosses his arms, going into bodyguard mode again. A tall, lanky, not-very-scary bodyguard.

"We did?" Dex asks.

"I got a message from the Judges' box." Archie points toward a two-story structure that's as much windows as wood and full of people wearing headphones, looking at computer screens. "You'll be able to repeat the heat. They're deciding whether Jack gets to keep his first score. They'll announce everything soon."

Dex gives Archie a high five.

"Called off?" I direct my question to Dex, since seeing Archie in person has only confirmed that he didn't want us to come.

"Shark sighting." Dex shrugs like he's talking about a puppy and not the many-toothed, man-eating monster of the sea.

"Shark sighting? Like, someone saw a shark in the ocean?" I point to the large body of water that's hidden by the event tents and stands in front of us. "That ocean right there?"

Dex laughs. "That's the one."

"But nobody was out there, right?"

"Just yours truly there," Archie points to Dex. "And his competitor. Their heat was called off and now officials have called the day."

My eyes bounce from Archie back to Dex. I hadn't added sharks to the whole surfing equation until just now, and I'm seeing Dex in a whole new light. That's no small thing, swimming with sharks. "Did you see it? Was it close to you?"

"Did you have to punch it?" Stella asks excitedly. "I just watched a video of a surfer punching a shark in the middle of a competition."

"That'd be Mick Fanning. That story is legendary." Archie's lip twitches like he might smile.

Stella's excitement ratchets up from a five to a seven—which is around eleven out of ten on a normal-person range—when she faces Archie. "Do you know him? You've got to know him, right? I mean, you're both famous."

Archie's face cracks wide open. And Stella's done what Stella does best. She's won him over.

"I'm not that famous," Archie says, his cheeks going pink.

"Whatever. I'm totally star struck, and I work for Georgia Beck—it's not like I'm unfamiliar with stars," Stella gushes. "I can't believe Georgia and Cassie never mentioned Liam Dexter and Archie Forsythe were their neighbors. I mean, come on! Who doesn't brag about that?"

"I'm guessing someone who's already famous, like Georgia," I answer, because I texted them both the same question yesterday after we discovered who Dex is. "Or someone like Cassie, who grew up in LA and has arrested a few celebrities."

"That's no excuse. Georgia knows I want to grow my business, and I need more than one celebrity who I'm related to if I'm going to prove myself." Stella turns to Archie. "If you or Dex need any help with your social media accounts while I'm here, I'm offering my services for free—mostly. You could pass my name onto Frankie and Rhys, if you're happy with my work. And you will be."

Archie allows a laugh to escape. "I don't have social media, but I'll keep you in mind for Dex's accounts. And I can introduce you to White Lightning. He's probably the biggest star here today."

At Stella's confused expression, Archie points to an open tent behind us where a man is sitting at a high table talking to a woman holding a microphone. "Mick Fanning—the guy who punched the shark. White Lightning is his nickname. That's him right there, being interviewed."

Stella rises on her tiptoes for a better look, then takes Archie by the arm and drags him to the tent where other people milling around immediately say hi to him.

I turn my attention to Dex. "You didn't tell me your name is Liam."

"Ah, no one calls me that but my mum." He looks a little sheepish, which is completely adorable.

"Your mum and me, from now on." That's my sorry attempt to keep our attraction in check. I have to maintain some control here, what with his bare chest and butt-hugging wetsuit working to lure me closer.

Dex chuckles, then rakes a hand through his wet hair. When he pulls it out, a section of curls folds in on itself, like even his hair is one with the waves.

Which is what I've learned about Dex over the past twenty-four hours. Since being back on tour, commentator after commentator has mentioned how Dex is "one with the wave" in a way he never used to be.

I'm not entirely sure what that means, but I've watched enough footage to recognize that what Dex does on the waves is riveting. I can't get enough of the videos I've scoured the internet for, and I couldn't wait to see him surf in real life.

"I'm sorry we missed you surf," I tell him.

"I'm not sorry you missed it. I crumbled."

"Crumbled?"

"Lost my focus."

"So, is that it? Is the competition over? Will you get another chance, or is this shark territory now?" I stop myself from making a West Side Story joke about the Sharks and Jets. Mom loved musicals, so I've seen them all, but I've had more than one joke fall flat when no one under sixty understands my reference.

"The ocean is always shark territory, but the judges and safety team obviously have to be careful. They'll keep us out a day or two until they're sure there aren't any aggressive sharks close by, then the competition will start back up." Dex says this with a nonchalance that could only come from spending more time in the ocean than outside of it.

"What qualifies as a less ‘aggressive' shark? The ones that only nibble on you? They take a limb or two instead of eating all of you?" I shiver as a breeze wisps across my shoulders.

Dex laughs. "The ones that aren't looking for their dinner." He nods his head toward a portable building. "Come on. I've got a jumper you can put on."

I follow him to a room full of surfboards and lockers, where he pulls a sweatshirt from a locker and hands it to me.

"Oh, this is a jumper. I didn't think it would be this chilly on the beach." I slip the hoodie over my head, then glance down at the Rip Tide logo across my chest. "Are you supposed to wear this? You know, because they're your sponsor?"

Dex's eyebrows go up. Maybe impressed I know this.

Or, possibly, concerned that I'm stalking him.

"No worries. I've got a million of them. You can keep that one."

"Well, thank you… Liam." I take a step back to put an appropriate amount of non-stalkerish space between us and step on bare toes.

I jump and glance over my shoulder to see another surfer. "Sorry ‘bout that," he says in an accent close to Dex's, but slightly different. Definitely Australian, but maybe from a different part of the country.

"My fault. Sorry." I back up away from him and Dex until I hit something that digs into the space between my shoulder blades. I turn to see what it is, but somehow knock loose a surfboard from the open-frame storage thing I've backed into.

The board slips out of its spot, diving for the ground. I grab for it, but it slides out of my fingers and falls to the wood flooring with a hard smack.

I raise my eyes to meet a look of horror in Dex's. "Oops," I mumble. "Sorry."

The other surfer looks even more horrified than Dex, which tells me exactly how big my oops is.

Big.

But Dex recovers quickly and turns to the other surfer. "I'll take care of it, mate. I'll get the shaper to check it."

With one irritated glance at me, the other guy grabs a duffle bag and walks out.

"Is a shaper bad? Did I break it? Was it that guy's board?" I resist the urge to help Dex set the board upright. Clearly, I'm not to be trusted around surfboards.

"Nah. Shapers sand down the boards… shape ‘em into what the surfer wants. Jack and I use the same guy. If there're any nicks, he'll sand them out. No worries. Everything will be fine." Dex gently puts the board back into place. "These boards are used to getting knocked about more than you just did. Jack's just cranky because he was on track to beat me before that shark showed up."

I nod and let out my breath. "So, the shark did you a favor?"

Dex lets out a laugh that already is becoming familiar to me. It's a low, gruff sound that comes from the back of his throat but loses steam before it makes any actual noise. Like he wants to keep what he's laughing at between the two of us.

"I'll give that one a thank you if I see him again. Because of him, I get a chance to do better than I did this morning. Jack, though, had a great start that might not count anymore. Judges are still deciding." He faces me with a smile, like everything is fine. "But I'm sorry you drove all this way for nothing."

"Me too. I'm bummed I won't get to watch you."

He gives me a playful look. "Sure. You're just trying to make me feel better because I don't have an actual job."

"I'm serious." I've teased him a lot about surfing, but that's because I didn't understand it.

So, I take a breath and come clean. "I watched a lot of videos yesterday of you surfing and they're…" I don't think there's a word big enough to describe it, but I land on "incredible. You've spent your whole life learning to do what you do, haven't you? I'm sorry I put it down." I put my hands up to stop his pleased grin. "Don't let that go to your head."

I gather my thoughts, then go on, even though I suspect his grin will only grow bigger. But something's shifted in my thinking about Dex. We're not as different as I thought.

"This isn't a perfect comparison, but the look on your face when you ride a wave reminds me how I felt when I played ice hockey." I don't talk about playing hockey very often. It's a dream that didn't materialize, and it's painful to rehash. But it's also why I understand Dex.

Except the question on his face makes it clear he doesn't understand where I'm going, so I scramble to explain.

"The two things I did growing up were dance classes and hockey. Hockey I've just always loved. Dance I did because that's what was available for girls, and I figured out pretty quick that the coordination it took translated to the ice."

Another surfer comes into the locker room, and Dex guides me outside—away from the surfboards—where we have a little more privacy.

"So, you're saying you love hockey the way I love surfing? I didn't know that about you." He's pleased with that bit of information, but I shake my head.

"There's more to it than that. Paradise didn't have a girls' team, but I loved playing. And I was good enough that sometimes I'd play with my brothers and their teams." I swallow back years of disappointment in order to get to the hard part. "I'm not trying to brag, but I had more than one coach say I could play college-level if I had more time on the ice. I don't know… maybe now that there are women's pro teams, I could have even made it to the big leagues."

"I'm really sorry, Britta." Dex's apology is sincere, even though he's not the one to blame.

I shrug, because there's nothing to be done now. "The point is, in those videos, it's obvious how much you love not just surfing, but competing. That resonates with me. The work and sacrifice you've put in to get where you are…it's impressive, that's all."

"Thanks." Dex smiles in his self-deprecating way, brushing off the compliment. "Usually only other surfers understand the passion. I never thought a hockey player would get it."

"Hockey and surfing aren't that different," I say.

Dex raises his eyebrows, unconvinced, so I continue. "One thing I loved about hockey was anticipating other players' moves and finding a way around them while also staying in control of my balance and navigating the rough ice."

His forehead crinkles as his eyebrows go higher, and I search for the right words. "The close-up shots of your face and your body in those videos? I saw the same thing. You're watching the other surfers while also reading your environment. That takes a skill that's more than learned."

I know I've connected the dots when Dex's face lights with understanding. "Yeah, when things go right, I feel a synergy out there, biding my time, waiting for my wave, but also trying to determine what my opponent is planning."

His excitement draws me closer.

"It's a dance, right? So many things are in motion that your steps have to come naturally. You have to let go of what you know and trust your intuition." Our eyes lock, and I feel a connection I haven't felt with anyone in a long time. "I would get in a zone where I could feel what to do. No matter how loud everything was around me, I heard nothing but the sound of my blades slicing through ice. If I followed that music, I could score."

"Yeah." Dex moves closer too. "I like that. I think of it as following the right energy. Being in tune with yourself and the world around you."

We nod together, totally in sync.

And then I hear Archie's voice behind me.

"Did you hear that announcement, Dex?" he asks.

Dex and I both look at Archie. I'm not sure if Dex heard something, but all I heard was some mumbling coming from the speaker pointed toward the beach.

"Britta…" Stella says, breathless. "Matthew McConaughey is here. At this beach. To watch Dex. Apparently, he's a huge fan of surfing."

"Yeah, too bad we'll all have to wait until tomorrow. Jack's keeping his score, and he has priority in the first heat. Judges just made it official with the announcement you missed." Archie gives Dex a searing look that I'm sure has something to do with Dex being "distracted" by me. "Let's clear out so you can relax before then."

I turn to Stella. "I guess that means us, too." Then I face Dex again. "We'll try to make it back tomorrow, but is there TV footage we can watch if we don't?"

Dex glances at Archie, who gives a stern, micro-shake of his head, that Dex promptly ignores, and blurts, "Or you could skip the drive tomorrow and just stay with me tonight."