Claire
I’d been runningup and down the dunes for half an hour, trying to sweat the frustrations out of my body when I spotted my favourite lime green board shorts trying to surf. He wasn’t getting any better. If anything, he was getting worse. After my third stumble, I’d almost twisted my ankle so I’d done the safe thing and gave up before I did some actual damage.
Watching him stomp up the beach, obviously pissed at the world, I headed in his direction. When he finally spotted me, the scowl on his face fell away, replaced by surprise.
“That didn’t look like much fun,” I commented, trying not to stare at his abs as he patted them dry.
“No shit, Sherlock,” he mumbled miserably.
“Oh, come on. Don’t be like that.”
“When’d you get back?” he asked, a hint of bitterness in his tone.
“Late yesterday.”
“Oh. Thought you’d be staying longer.”
“So did I. Turns out there’s a reason you move out of home.” I shrugged, not feeling like getting into the nitty-gritty of it here and now.
“You mean it’s not worth moving back in with my parents, so I don’t have to do my own washing?” Seth teased.
At least he didn’t seem as pissy now. “Nah. Wash your own undies. It’s easier, trust me.”
As he tugged his shirt over his head, hiding those pecs I wanted to get my hands on, I wrapped my arms around my chest trying to hide my pebbled nipples. “So, what are you doing now?”
My heart sank. I wanted to say yes to whatever Seth was going to suggest. I couldn’t though. “Actually, I’ve gotta head home and shower. I’ve got some stuff on this morning.”
“Ah yeah, me too.” Seth shrugged it off like it was nothing.
“But wanna do something later on this afternoon? We can make the most of daylight saving. I mean, if you’re interested,” I babbled, hating the desperation in my voice.
“Sure. Sounds good. Give me a call when you’re finished if you want.”
Seth was lying as much as I was. It would’ve been comical if it was happening to anyone else, but it wasn’t. And it was bullshit. “No worries. Will give you a buzz when I finish up. It’ll probably be around three or so.”
Seth bent over and picked up his board, tucking it under his arm. For someone who spent more time coughing up all the saltwater he swallowed than actually standing on his board, he’d nailed the sexy surfer look. I couldn’t wait to see him pull off the sexy soccer star too. I had no doubt in my mind, or in my Google history, he’d look sexy as fuck in that too.
“Well then, I guess I’ll talk to you later,” Seth dismissed, sliding on his glasses.
Feeling like I’d been rejected when I don’t remember actually doing anything wrong, I untangled my own glasses from my hair and settled them over my eyes. I needed to get out of here before I said something stupid. “See you later,” I offered before turning around and walking away, not even bothering to wait for a reply.
I hadn’t lied. I had places to be and I couldn’t afford to let Seth’s mood swings derail me. He was worse than me when I was hungry and PMSing at the same time. Leaving him standing there was the best thing I could do right now. Picking up my pace, I started jogging along the beach, ignoring the surfers bouncing on the waves and the early morning seagulls playing in the shallows as I headed towards my car.
Determined not to be late, I pulled into the car park fifteen minutes before my shift started and started searching for a spot. I should’ve known better. Saturday morning was possibly the busiest time for the beachside café I’d managed to land a job at. Giving up on the car park, I drove a couple of streets over, parked, hoping to avoid a parking ticket in the two-hour spot, and rushed back.
Before I’d left to go home, in an act of desperation, I put my resume in everywhere and anywhere I could think of. I still wanted to be a hairdresser. At least I think I did. Maybe I just wasn’t good at failing and being so close to finishing my qualifications, but walking away seemed like a waste of all those years. I’d get back to it. I had to. But for now, I had to pay rent and eat. A girl had to have priorities, and mine was on my next meal.
Stepping into the café, I noticed it was already brimming with people and it wasn’t yet nine. Not that I could blame them, this place was amazing. Across the road was the beach and from the front deck, the view was unobstructed. Heavy white umbrellas provided shade from the early morning glare. People were dotted around the booths with their comfy canvas cushions while others perched on the bright stools at the bar sipping their mimosas, delivered in champagne flutes. Everyone was happy and smiling.
Isla, the owner who’d taken a chance on my lack of waitressing skills, spotted me from her perch behind the register and waved me inside. Weaving through the people, I stepped out of the way of a flushed looking waiter trying to balance a tray covered with my dream come true. Eggs, pancakes, waffles, yogurt buried under a pile of fresh raspberries and blueberries, my stomach grumbled embarrassingly loudly.
“You made it!” Isla beamed.
She was perfect for this job. With her strawberry blonde hair pulled back in a high ponytail and minimum makeup, she looked impossibly refreshed and relaxed. Something I found odd for someone who owned all this.
“Yeah. It’s a madhouse out there.”
“Give it an hour or two and then you’ll see mad.”
