Chapter One
Adam
I STEP ONTO THE SMALL stage constructed in the sand and, though I can’t stop grinning, the only thing on my mind is Claire and how I wish she were here to see this. Hank Langley hands me the third place trophy and pulls me into a sloppy one-armed hug. Hank is the promoter for the competition. We’ve stayed in touch since I quit surfing two years ago and he’s the only reason I made it onto the roster for this event.
As soon as we arrive at the hotel, the mini-bar is ransacked and champagne is ordered from room service. I grab my phone out of my backpack and sneak off to the bathroom to call Claire.
I open the bathroom door and Paul Leyva is boning some chick on the bathroom counter. The same Paul Leyva who was ranked fourth in the world on the ASP world rankings last year. The chick makes eye contact with me and I slam the door shut before I make my way into the hotel corridor. The scroll pattern on the carpet makes me think of the curtains in my dad’s study. He doesn’t know where I am this weekend. If he knew I’m competing again he’d tell me to give it up. Twenty-two is too old to start competing again. What he doesn’t know is that I’m doing this as much for Claire as I am for myself.
I sink down onto the carpet next to the ice machine and dial her number. She picks up halfway through the first ring.
“Hey.”
Her voice is soft yet eager and fills me with relief.
“Hey, baby. What are you doing?”
I hear a rustling on the other end and I imagine she’s putting down a book or a pile of notes.
“Studying. I have a statistics test on Monday. Where are you?”
“I’m at the hotel. We just got back. I came in third.”
She pauses for a moment. “I’m so proud of you. I knew you’d do well.”
“I’ll be there in six days. You can congratulate me then.”
There are so many things I want to ask her. She told me last night that her ex would be dropping off some more pictures today. I want to know everything, but I don’t want to pry. I don’t want to push her away, but the long pause on the other end concerns me.
“I don’t know if I can wait six days,” she finally says. “I wish I was there with you to rub your sore muscles and fall asleep in your arms.”
“I wish you were here, too. I miss the fuck out of you. Are you lying down?”
She giggles because she thinks I’m trying to initiate phone sex.
“I just want to picture you,” I insist. “I’m in the middle of the hotel corridor. I’m not going to jerk off out here.”
“Yes, I’m lying down.”
“What are you wearing?”
“I’m wearing the Sugar shirt you bought for me.”
“Is that it?”
“And my panties.”
“Take them off.” She pauses, but I hear her breathing quicken. “Please.” The movement on the other end gets me excited. “Claire?”
“Adam?”
“When was the last time I touched you?”
“Six days ago.”
“When was the last time you touched yourself?”
She giggles again and I wait for her to get over her embarrassment and answer. “When you called me this morning.”
I don’t know why I torture myself this way when there’s a roomful of girls down the hall who’d get on their knees for me in a heartbeat. Maybe I just need to prove to myself that I’ve changed.
“I love you, Claire.”
“I know.”
“You know I would never hurt you.”
“I know. Are you okay?”
I want to tell her how much it scares me that she’s been seeing Chris while we’re apart. I want to tell her how much it kills me that he can show up at her dorm or outside her classroom anytime he wants. But she doesn’t want to hear that shit.
“Yeah, I’m just tired. I’ll let you go so you can get your homework done, but I want you to think of me tonight… when you touch yourself.”
“I wouldn’t think of anyone else.”
“I can’t hide anything from you, can I?”
“Adam, I love you. I’ll wait six days or six years. Whatever it takes. Nothing and no one else matters.”
This isn’t true. There is one other person who matters as much, or more, to Claire than I do. And I can’t even be upset about it because that’s exactly as it should be. But that doesn’t change the fact that being her number two worries the hell out of me.
“Tuck yourself in tight. Goodnight, baby.”
“Goodnight.”
I lean forward to slide the phone into the back pocket of my shorts then sit back against the wall and stare at the framed picture of a floral still life on the wall in front of me. If I go back to the room, I’ll probably get so drunk or high I won’t remember what I did in the morning. But I can’t stay out here. Maybe I should just take a taxi to the airport and catch the next flight to Raleigh to surprise Claire.