“Anyway, Seth, you’ll be right. I’m behind you.”
“You wish you were behind him,” Luca tossed out, causing Elise to snort and I had no words.
“Can you blame me? Seriously, Seth. Are those pants from out of space? Because your arse is out of this world.”
I didn’t even answer, I just shook my head and started clearing the table. “Who wants ice cream?” I asked, changing the conversation.
* * *
I set the alarm for an hour earlier than normal and was still awake before it went off. I’d slept like shit, and lying in bed tangled in the sheets, I was just getting more and more worked up. I thought about heading back to the beach for another attempt on the board, but I had more pressing matters.
As quietly as I could, I got up, made my bed, dressed, and snuck out of the house in the dark. Stuffing my earbuds in my ears, I pumped up the music and started towards the beach. I’d thought I was fit and in shape, but yesterday I’d been made to look like a couch potato.
The car park was still mostly deserted as I bounced down the steps and onto the soft sand. Ignoring the water, I started running across the beach blocking everything out, concentrating on my breathing. When I reached the rocks at the opposite end, I just turned and headed back the way I came.
By the time I made it back to where I had started, the sun was cracking over the horizon, and more and more people had trudged across the sand before wading out into the water, boards tucked under their arms. Stretching my arms up over my head, I rolled my shoulders as I headed towards the dunes. This was going to hurt like hell, but I remember what Bryce had said about dune sprints. As much as they sucked, as much as they hurt, as much as your lungs burned, in the end the pain paid off.
I went to push off and my foot sunk into the soft sand filing my shoe. “Shit!”
“If you’re going to take on the dunes, there’s no point worrying about the sand.”
Turning, I saw a sight that had my mouth suddenly drier than the sand in my shoes. Claire was standing there looking entirely too fucking sexy for this hour of the morning. Yesterday she’d looked hot as fuck in her wet clothes, but this morning she was something else. With very short, almost indecent black running shorts showing off her long, tanned legs and a loose grey tank top with a bright purple bra underneath. Her long blonde hair, the hair I’d dreamt about having wrapped around my fist, was pulled back in a ponytail, and her cheeks were flushed pink.
“Morning, Claire,” I greeted, liking the way her name rolled off my tongue.
“Seth. Not surfing this morning?”
“Not today.”
“Shame.”
“Shame?” I repeated, wondering where she was going with this.
“Yeah. I was kinda hoping to see the lime green shorts again,” she teased before bending over and tightening the laces on her runners, dragging a groan from the back of my throat. That arse was going to get me in so much trouble.
“Sorry to disappoint,” I replied as she straightened and adjusted the straps on her bra. Who knew watching a chick fix her clothing could be such a damn turn on?
“Well, enough chit chat. We going to run these dunes or are you going to stand there checking me out all morning?” Claire asked, mischief in her eyes.
Two could play at that game. “Is that an option?” Spending the morning ogling Claire sounded like a workout. The very best kind.
“Let’s go, Romeo.”
“Ladies first.”
At my invitation, Claire turned and with arms pumping, started up the dune, and I realised the mistake I’d made. Watching her butt bounce with every step-in front of me meant not only was I about to take on the dunes with sand in my shoes, but I was also sporting a lead pipe in my pants. Adjusting myself, I shook my head and followed her up.
Half an hour later I was lying on the sand, staring up at the sky trying not to die. I could barely breathe. I was dripping with sweat and pretending my calves weren’t on fire. When Claire dropped down beside me, I tried to make myself look less pathetic. A thin sheen of sweat covered her skin, but she still looked like she’d just been out for an early morning jog.
“Have fun?” she asked, pulling the tie from her hair and letting it fall around her face before scooping it back up and piling it up on her head in a messy knot.
“That’s brutal,” I told her. “Why don’t you look like you want to die?”
“Oh, come on, Mister Soccer Star. It’s not that bad.”
