He’s sorry—sorry about us. And it draws me straight to him. I couldn’t stop the pull if I tried. It’s longing. It’s aching and sad. It’s me, desperate to know what happened. All that, but not a single word comes to mind for me to say.
The door opens suddenly as Tech returns with the card reader. Jamie and I both straighten up, the moment fading away, and Tech clunks down the heavy machine between us. It’s one of those old-school sliding ones that takes an imprint instead of running the credit right away.
Back to business, I place Jamie’s card in the slot and then slide the top of the machine over it with a clacking sound. But when I start to fill out the receipt, I realize the name on the card is actually Brent Matthews.
When I look up at him, Jamie glances to where my pen is paused atthe name line. He shrugs in response, clearly embarrassed. I’m guessing he’s not supposed to use this card. But I’m not here to judge. Not when it means sticking it to someone from the Collective. I fill in the name and push the receipt toward him. When he signs for it, he indeed uses the name Brent Matthews.
Jamie sets the pen down, a little unspoken secret between us. We can just add it to the pile, I guess. I motion toward the rack of surfboards.
“Matteo will want a thruster,” I say, pointing to the right side of the rack. Jamie hums, as if not thrilled that I know that. But then he thanks me, and starts that way. I smile a little—I know what kind of board he likes too. “The blue longboard is on the back side,” I call, and he pauses.
When he turns around, he smiles—slow and devastating, not that he has to try. My heart strums along, easy. Even a little happy.
“When’s the last time you went surfing?” I ask, a little curious.
He laughs, running his hand through his hair as he thinks about it. “At least two years ago,” he admits. “Although, I think it might have rained that whole summer.”
“We did spend a lot of time indoors that year,” I say. He nods like he remembers it well, as he should. No matter how mad I got at him, no matter how much I cursed him, I always knew that no one in the world could ever kiss me as good as Jamie Matthews.
As if sensing my thoughts, his licks his lower lip. He can still make me blush.
“Well, you should have kept at it,” I tell him, making him raise an eyebrow. “The surfing, I mean,” I clarify, making him laugh. “You were good.”
“I wish I could have,” he says earnestly.
I was the one who taught him how to surf. Our days were spent on the beach, while our nights were hidden away and whispering secrets. Stripping down and making promises.
Promises that he later broke.
And just like that, the invisible string between us snaps, my smile faltering. Jamie seems to feel it too. It’s like the past is too painful, too fragile. It’s hard to believe that something once so unbreakable could ever shatter.
“I’ll, uh…” He motions toward the boards, and I tell him to have at it.
He walks away, and I watch him, studying his movements as if I can pinpoint exactly what’s changed. Find the flaw. But that’s the shitty part. He’s still as familiar as ever.
Jamie happens to grab my most expensive surfboard for Matteo, which makes me a bit nervous, but I also know it’s the one Matteo would have picked for himself. Jamie finds his longboard and a kit. He loops the bag over his wrist and then puts a board under each arm.
He starts toward the group, but as he crosses the sand, he looks back over his shoulder at me. “I’m glad I got to see you again, Noa,” he calls.
I hold up my hand in a wave, hurt at how his voice sounds like a goodbye. I can’t even say anything back, watching him walk away instead.
Shawn slides up next to me at the counter. “Why’d you give him his board?” she asks, as if already knowing the answer. “And don’t say because he’s cute.”
“You think he’s still cute?” I ask, looking sideways at her. She lowers her sunglasses to check him out, really sizing him up. She shrugs.
“I’ve always thought he was cute. But he’s a heartbreaker. You know better than anyone.”
“You would think,” I reply, not sure how to fill in the emptiness Jamie’s left behind. Especially now that he’s back on my beach. For her part, Shawn doesn’t offer any advice, either. Some things aren’t really fixable.
As Matteo and Jamie prep the boards for the water, I grab the stopwatch and set the time for an hour. Jamie’s first in the water, not lookinghalf bad as he paddles out. Matteo fastens his ankle strap, and as he wades into the ocean, he glances in my direction, knowing I’ll be watching. He blows me a kiss before pushing his board forward and sliding onto it, paddling out into the open water. Still so full of himself.
“Pretty sure that one is obsessed with you,” Shawn sighs out. She checks on Jordan and Hailey, lounging in the sand as they hover close together on their phones. With a withering sigh, Shawn goes gossip with Tech as I watch the water.
I wouldn’t exactly call Matteo obsessed with me. Over the course of three or four months, he and I had a thing—a situationship, I guess. We would meet up at Bonfire Beach—a local Chaser spot away from the prying eyes of our parents or the resort. Sometimes, we’d head back to his house if his dad was traveling on another business trip.
Matteo and I would talk, we actually talked a lot, and there were times when I think we actually liked each other. I even confided in him about my mother’s death, how it was breaking me. He was kind then. He really was.
But one day at his house, I overheard him talking with his dad. His father demanded to know if he’d beenrunning around with beach trash.Matteo must have thought I was still upstairs, because he was brutally honest. Cruel. Needless to say, I walked right out the back door, past his infinity pool, and onto the beach to walk home.
