Axel
The cerulean water flows around me in warm ripples rocking my board with a gentle ebb and flow. I stare out at the beach taking in my picturesque surroundings, golden sand, crystal clear aqua colored water, impressive buildings, and lush foliage. It’s paradise. Except, I don’t feel like I’m in paradise. Here I am parked on my ass in the middle of the Pacific Ocean in front of one of the most beautiful beaches in Maui, and I feel nothing—emotionally.
I can feel the sun shining down on me, my blond locks dusting past my shoulders and sticking to the top of my back, and the water swirling around my legs as they straddle my board. I also feel the waves rocking me, the solidness of my board cradling my ass, and the ever so slight wind tickling my skin.
Yet, the usual euphoria I get from surfing never came. Surfing is how I clear my head, put things into perspective, and make the tough decisions. Today, I’m unfulfilled and out of answers. There hadn’t been an event or catalyst that had sent me running to Hawaii. I didn’t have a breakdown or burn out either. I’ve just grown bored with all the everyday tasks of running a successful business.
I look out to the ocean again. The vastness of the unknown still amazes me. The ocean doesn’t belong to anyone, It’s its own entity. A free force of nature responsible for some of the happiest and saddest moments. It’s titillating and terrifying. I take a deep breath and relax my mind. I’ve felt a notion bugging me for the past few months—a notion I’d chosen to ignore until now. I let it sink in and anchor itself into my being. Out here in the roar of the ocean, I allow myself to settle on the truth.
I’m not happy.
A bitter laugh pushes through my teeth. I did get an answer, not the one I wanted, but an answer nonetheless. I decide to quit for the day. For the first time since I’ve learned how to swim, I’m out of sync with the ocean. I make it back to the beach with the intent to lock myself in my room and order room service. I plan to sulk in silence and ask myself the hard question.
How do I make myself happy again?
However, from the moment my toes touch the soft sand, I feel an awareness I shouldn’t feel traveling alone. I feel watched as if my emergence from the ocean was anticipated.
I scan inconspicuously while I squeeze the water from my hair. My blue eyes lock with dark brown ones. I can tell they would look black if we would have met inside of a building. She is walking toward me with purpose. I brace myself for press questions as I towel myself off. The reporters have been aggressive since they’d caught wind of my restlessness. Apparently, aninside sourceleaked my complaints to the tabloids. I’m surprised I haven’t run into any paparazzi yet. It’s apparent that there is a mole somewhere in my company. The fact my rant came out the same month a competitor scooped and released the surfboard design I was perfecting is not a coincidence.
I study her, a black woman, medium skin tone, enchanting lips, and braids like Gabrielle Union’s inAlmost Christmasflowing to her waist. She is sexy and doesn’t know it, I can tell by the way she clutches her black cover-up over her black, pineapple print swimsuit. She’s not a reporter, her shoulders are hunched, eyebrows are drawn in irritation, her eyes are tense yet hopeful. I’m intrigued. I watch as her lips pull into what is supposed to be a flirtatious grin but the irritations she’s trying to hide make it look like a slight grimace. I drape my towel around my neck and wait for her to speak.
“Hi,” she says awkwardly. She glances over her shoulder before returning her eyes to me; her face is set with a little more determination. “I can’t help but point out that you look like—”
“Thor?” I supply not feeling the usual irritation I would normally feel from the comparison. She blinks then nods. “Sorry,” I say, moving in closer, invading her space. “I’ve seemed to have misplaced my helmet and hammer.”
I mean to intimidate her with my size, so she can get to the point. Instead, her eyes roam over my bare chest with unguarded interest. She licks her lips nervously and peeks over her shoulder again. She smells sweet like one of those Bath and Body Works sprays. I can’t place it, but I like it.
“How tall are you?” she queries, distracted.
“Six-six. You?”
Her eyebrows inch up. “Wow. I’m five-eight. You’re like a big, sexy man-tree.” Her eyes dart over her shoulder again then back to me.
“Man-tree?” I repeat, amused.
“Yeah,” she nods like it’s obvious. “You know, man-tree—totally worth climbing.”
A bark of laughter escapes me. I’ve been called a lot of things and ‘man-tree’ isn’t one of them. “Okay. Out with it,” I tell her. “I can’t tell if you’re flirting with me or trying to win a bet.”
Her expression is a mixture of confusion and surprise. “What do you mean?” she asks while she crosses her arms.
I shrug. “Your words are flattering, but you have this desperate look on your face.”
She huffs, and I continue quickly to diffuse the situation. I am genuinely curious about this interaction. “Hold on, not desperate in the way you’re thinking. I mean desperate as in you hope I’d play along. You’re obviously talking to me for someone else’s amusement.”
Her shoulders deflate. “You’re very perceptive.” She exhales. “Okay, here’s the thing. I’m talking to you to save face. Do you remember that movieForgetting Sarah Marshall?”
I nod. “Yup, the guy gets dumped and goes to Hawaii to try to get over his ex, but finds her there with her new boyfriend.”
“Well, apparently I’m living the damn sequel,” she admits with clenched teeth.
“Oh shit! Which character are you?” I ask although I’m sure I know the answer.
“Jason Segel,” she confesses, absolutely defeated. I have a strange urge to comfort her. “Except,” she continues. “It’s worse. I’d let my friends book the trip for a girls’ week without realizing it’s the same week and resort fortheirwedding. Now, I look like a world-class psycho, stalker ex who can’t let go.”
I can’t help it. I give her a comforting squeeze on her shoulder. “Tell them the truth.”
She laughs in a short burst of air. “Yeah, like they are going to believe it wasn’t intentional. Imagine my surprise when I settled in for a relaxing beach day, while my friends went snorkeling, only to see my ex and rival heading in my direction. I panicked and power walked over to you.”
