“Nah, just checking out the longboards and some clothes.” His eyes take a slow roll over me, and then he turns toward the boards.
It never really bothers me when guys check me out. I think it’s the whole long blond hair and fit body thing they’re attracted to. Guys are so cursory. It’s like they have a mental checklist that can be marked off in three seconds: A face that doesn’t require too many beers to look good, boobs, nice ass. Whereas with girls, at least with me, when I check a girl out, it goes much deeper than looks. The first thing I notice is a girl’s eyes. Are they cold and wary or intense and seductive? I like them to be somewhere in the middle. Wary enough to be careful, but sexy in the right moments.
Like Delilah’s.
Gaaaahhhhh! Stop!
I’ve never been interested in guys. Never even kissed a guy. I do like to look, though, from an artistic perspective. Sometimes that gets me in trouble and guys think I’m checking them out, so I’ve learned to be discreet about it. I can’t help it if I find the human body fascinating. I’m an artist. It feels natural to notice sleek curves and taut muscles. It’s not like I’m Brandon or anything. He practically undresses guys and girls in a single glance and would sleep with either or both at the same time. I’ve never felt a need to flaunt my sexuality. I don’t even like to talk about it, but after dating Sandy Andraka for a few months, I realized that I also don’t want to be someone’s dirty little secret. Sandy acknowledged me only as a friend in public, because she wasn’t out yet. Because I was sensitive to her feelings, I overlooked all the telltale clues of a liar. We saw each other only on weekdays, at my place, and never after ten at night. It was only after we broke up that I found out she was living with a guy and our relationship was nothing more than a fun distraction for her.
“Excuse me.” Blond surfer guy waves in my direction.
I push thoughts of Sandy away and go to help him.
“Hi. What can I help you with?”
He holds up a shirt. “Do you have this in XL?”
“I’ll check.” I go in the back room and retrieve his size, and when I bring it to him, he’s on the phone again, having a heated discussion as he watches me approach.
I hand him the shirt and he holds up a finger, asking me to wait.
He covers the mouthpiece and asks, “Isn’t it easier for girls to surf than guys?”
“Um…” I notice Brent and Jesse come out of the back room.
He raises his brows.
“You’re asking the wrong person. I don’t surf.” I hate admitting that to customers, but it’s true. Brent hired me because I’m organized, a hard worker, and really good with people. He said it would be good if I learned to surf, and I had planned to learn when I first moved here, but then I got busy. “Ask him.” I point to Brent.
“Dude, I’ll call you back.” The guy ends his call and leans on the clothing rack, like he has all the time in the world. “How can you work in a surf shop and not surf?”
“I know the mechanics of it. I’ve read up on it. I’ve just never taken the time to learn.”
“Do you like working here?” he asks.
I can’t tell if he’s asking because he’s interested or trying to figure me out. He’s looking at me so intently that I think it’s the latter. “Yeah. I like working with customers, and I’m not one of those people who could sit behind a desk all day, so for now, yeah, I like it.” I’m hyperaware of Brent and Jesse just a few feet away, and although Brent knows that one day I hope to make a living with my art, I’m careful not to reference it.
“Drake!” Brent and Jesse join us. Brent high-fives Drake. “I see you met my best employee, Ashley.”
I laugh. I should have known Brent would know him. He’s one of the best surfers around. I’d bet he knows every surfer in Harborside.
“Ashley.” Drake holds out a hand. “Nice to formally meet you.”
Jesse pats Brent on the back. “See you at the party. I’ve gotta run.” He waves to me. “See you tonight, Ash.”
“Party?” Drake asks.
“Yeah, for Brandon’s birthday,” Brent explains. He and Brandon play in a band together all over town.
“Cool. Is it an open party, or do I need to know someone besides you and Brandon to get in?” Drake asks as we walk toward the cash register.
Brent turns to me. “Think Wyatt and Delilah will mind?”
“How should I know? But based on their past parties, probably not.” Parties at Wyatt and Delilah’s house are always crowded with Brandon’s friends.