My gaze keeps darting across the shoreline to where Lindsay dips her toes in the water. She used to bitch at me all the time after I quit competing. She actually called me a quitter once. I should have dumped her then, but we’d been together for a year and a half and I had the stupid idea that we should try to work things out since we’d already invested so much time in the relationship. It was just a few weeks later that I caught her cheating on me with Nathan Jennings—number 86 in the world ASP rankings.
I’m not even ranked anymore. It was depressing watching my rank drop from 47 down to nothing. I should never have let my dad deposit my winnings into my trust fund. I never thought he’d put the stipulation on the account that I’m not allowed to touch a single penny of it until my thirtieth birthday. I’m pretty certain he also put a stipulation in there saying I’ll gain access to the funds if I have a child. I guess he assumed that I’d be less inclined to confess my sins to Myles’ family when I’m thirty or when I have a child of my own to consider. At least, come Tuesday, I’ll only have eight more years to wait. Unless Lindsay has a secret she’s been keeping from me. Then, by the looks of it, I may gain access to my trust fund in about eight days.
A jet ski whizzes past me with someone in tow. Whoever it is lets go and I’m hit with a small wave from the jet ski’s wake. I wipe the water from my face to see who had to get towed out here—the water’s not that rough—then I see Nathan’s shoulder-length brown hair and the cross tattoo on his right bicep.
I’m tempted to look away so I don’t see the scar on his face, but I don’t. It takes him a moment before he notices me.
I throw him a cool nod. “Good swell today.” And I hope you get bombed out there.
He smiles and I see that fucking gold tooth he got to replace the one I knocked out. “Perfect conditions for schoolin’ some seniors.”
Nathan’s only a year younger than I. I don’t know who he’s calling a senior, but I’m not playing into that bullshit. I feel the frustration building in my arms. I’ve suppressed that sensation for six months, only slipping up that one time a few weeks ago. I’ve controlled my temper since March by moving away from everyone I know, smoking a fuck-ton of weed, and keeping myself busy with work and Claire. Weed and Claire were my addictions for the past six months and now I’ve given them both up. I’m fucked.
“Don’t let that grille weigh you down,” I shout over my shoulder as I paddle away to get a better view of the swell.
I count the seconds between the first few breaks then close my eyes to listen. The crashing of the waves forms a rhythm that corresponds with the motion of the water under my board. The sun warms my shoulders as the ocean sways beneath me until I’m totally relaxed. The siren blasts to signal the beginning of the heat and my nerves fire up again.
I open my eyes and Carlos Ferreira is riding inside the barrel, racing to stay ahead of the spit coming off the wave. The barrel closes in on him, or so it appears. He emerges two seconds later wobbling as he fights to stay on his board. Even all the way out here you can hear the cheering from the crowd.
I paddle out to the line-up and wait to see if Jordan Muzo is going to take this next wave. He hesitates and, since I’m on the inside of the wave and have the right of way, I take it. I push the nose of the board down into the water and stand up as the wave curls up behind me. I flip a hard left then right to get some momentum as the tube forms. I kick faster so I can stay ahead of the curl because I need more than just a clean ride if I want to place today.
I get ahead of the wave and ride it up to the crest then flip my board into a 180. The sensation from that half-second I’m in the air is pure exhilaration and terror. Then everything fades and suddenly all I see is the terror in Myles’ eyes as he teeters on the edge of the cliff. The moment when he realized he was falling too fast.
My board comes down on the crest of the wave facing backwards and I try to right myself before the wave closes in on me. Then I bail.
The rest of the heat doesn’t go much better as I attempt to drown my thoughts of Myles and Lindsay. I try to think of Claire as motivation, how I’d love to bring back a trophy to her, but I keep getting confused by my desire to be with her. If I do well, I’ll be seeing a lot less of her when I go on tour.
I place ninth overall; enough to move on to the ASP qualifier in Australia. While everyone hangs out around the judge’s tent during the award ceremony, I set off to find Lindsay. Nathan placed thirteenth, so they probably took off before the ceremony began. I set off toward the park area and spot them behind a sponsor tent where Nathan is changing in the shade of the tent. I set off toward them, but a photographer cuts me off.