Despite the lack of touch, he softened considerably in other aspects of our routine. He was always grumpy and dry, which was fine. I was spunky and animated enough for both of us. But he was also sweet and had this tendency to go out of his way to do things for me that felt special and intimate.
For example, since that first night when I told him my mom could never make it home for dinner because of work, he never missed a meal with me.
If I didn’t have a shift at Sharkies, Riddick always stayed and helped me cook dinner. He taught me all kinds of things about nutrition and how to make healthy food taste good. I missed the way he’d wrapped himself around me that first night to teach me how to properly dice an onion, but I was becoming so obsessed with him that I would take what I could get.
He also learned that I absolutelyhatedwaxing my board pretty early on in our training program.
We were gearing up for a surf day, and when I grabbed my board, he frowned.
“You need to wax that board, shark bait. There’s barely anything left on it.”
I wrinkled my nose at him.
“Nah, it’s ok.”
His frown deepened. “No, it’s not. That board’s a mess. When was the last time you waxed it?”
I screwed up my face thinking. I honestly couldn’t remember.
“I dunno. A while ago.”
“Clearly.”
“It’s fine. I don’t need wax. I have sticky feet.” I winked at him, and he growled, snatching the board away from me.
“If you think I’m going to let you surf Leviathans without a properly waxed board, you’re even more delusional than I originally gave you credit for, Finn Summers.”
My eyebrows rose, and my heart skipped a beat.
Fuck.
I loved it when he laid down the law.
So hot.
“Full naming me, damn. You mean business.” I grinned at him, and his scowl darkened. In the beginning, I thought my dimples seemed to have the opposite effect on him than they did on most people, but it turned out it was all a ruse.
Scowling to Riddick was smiling to most people. The grumpier I made him, the more he seemed to come around. So I’d made it my mission to continue being as annoying as possible so he would never leave me.
“How the fuck have you stayed alive this long? Jesus,” he grumbled, slapping my board down on the rickety wooden table next to the bench press. I assumed it was there for this purpose, not that I’d ever used it.
“I dunno. People kinda meet me, then realize that if they don’t keep an eye on me, I’m a goner.” I grinned. It was true. Even Turtle, despite his stoner ways, was usually subconsciously keeping an eye on me and making sure my ADHD ass didn’t walk into traffic or some dumb shit.
He was always doing things to make sure I thrived, like making that points game up for dishes at work to keep me engaged, and I didn’t know what I would do without him.
Riddick glanced up at me, and for a moment, I saw real fear in his eyes, and my heart squeezed in my chest.
“Why do you not want to wax your board?” he finally asked, and I tilted my head to the side, thinking about it.
No one had ever asked mewhybefore, so it took a second for me to sort through my thoughts and pick out the reasons.
I only got distracted admiring how hot Riddick’s forearms were twice.
“I think it’s a sensory thing. I don’t like the way the wax feels. It’s all sticky and gritty, and even when I wash my hands after, I feel like it’s stuck between my fingers for hours, and it makes my teeth hurt.”
“It makes your teeth hurt?”
I nodded earnestly. “Yeah, it’s weird, and I hate it. Also, it takesforever.Sometimes, when I think, okay, maybe Ishouldreally do it, I get too antsy and just want to get in the water. It feels like a waste of time.”
