ChapterEight
CHLOE
I can’t believe it. I’m never up and dressed by six in the morning, let alone on a Sunday. As I stare in the bathroom mirror, I grab the concealer out of my make-up bag, again.
A rubbish night’s sleep with my mind whirring thanks to Blake’s second text, and I need all the help I can get. Black circles are only cute on pandas.
The one worry Blake had removed was saying there was no need for me to respond to his text. He’d know what my decision was in the morning. That I’d either meet him down at the beach, or I wouldn’t.
All I’d wanted to do on reading that was to scream, “NO WAY!”
Then my little voice got in on the act, and for once it wasn’t beating me up, it was egging me on. I’d fought it for as long as I could before giving in.
And giving in meant panicking about what I’d wear for my early morning meet up. I only had a few clothes with me at my folks' place, and nothing that did me any favors.
Work clothes were fine for working, but not for looking your best at six-thirty on a Sunday morning. Add in a hot looking guy, and desperate measures were called for.
This had seen me racing back to my place to ransack my wardrobe, looking for that elusive outfit. The last thing I wanted to do was turn up looking like I should be restocking the library shelves.
A little powder over the top of the concealer and it’s less obvious. I turn and walk through into my old bedroom to check myself out in the full-length mirror again. The one plus of not having had anything to eat since lunchtime yesterday is that my tummy is flatter than normal.
A cup of black coffee in a go cup, and I’m ready as I’ll ever be. The fresh air on my walk to the beach does wonders for my foggy brain. On reaching the spot Blake mentioned in his text invite, I’m clear-headed and fully awake.
I’m also in time to see him walking up the beach his board tucked under one arm, his wetsuit leaving nothing to the imagination. And I’d spent a lot of time imagining.
Then I spot who’s running down the beach to meet him, and my cup of coffee freezes against my lips. I can’t force myself to take a mouthful. If I did, I’d choke.
To add insult to injury, Sylvia looks gorgeous in a bikini, even if it's at odds with the freshness of the morning. There isn’t a chance I want to find myself in a side-by-side comparison with that woman when she’s as good as naked.
Vision blurred. I’m lucky to make it back to my parents’ apartment without walking into something. How could I have been so stupid as to think he was actually interested in me? And how could he have been so cruel as to invite me down to the beach at the same time as Sylvia?
There’s not a chance she just happened to be passing at that time in the morning.
BLAKE
All in all I’ve enjoyed a good session. Even with my back-up fin, I’ve been able to handle everything the waves could throw at me. Things change when I get out of the water.
Rather than it be Chloe walking down the beach to meet me as I’d dreamed of the night before, it’s blasted Sylvia. What the hell is she doing out here so early, and in a bikini of all things? She’s got the properties of superglue where I’m concerned.
I’d even moved the van to a different spot to avoid her popping up for a nightcap as she’d promised.
As I scan the boardwalk that runs the length of the beach, I spot Chloe. I know to the second when she sees Sylvia, her coffee up to her mouth, only to be taken away untouched. She’d then made short work of getting away.
As much as I’d wanted to chase after her, there wasn’t a chance I was showing my cards while Sylvia was around. The best thing was that the vindictive blonde now running down the beach like a Bay Watch extra hadn’t known Chloe was standing behind her.
I can’t imagine what Chloe must be thinking of me inviting her down her only for her to find Sylvia on the scene. All I know is that I need to fix this, and soon.
And by soon I mean as soon as the Surf Shack opens, if not before.
“Hi Blake.” Sylvia reaches out and runs her hands down the front of my wetsuit. “You’re such an amazing surfer.”
The enthusiasm in her words is about as fake as the woman herself. Funny as hell is that she can’t hide that she’s freezing her ass off. She’s a study in goosebumps.
Hah, serves her right for stalking me. It’s no surprise she’d know I’d be down here at this time. She’s a local; she knows the best waves are just after high-tide, with it easy enough to check.
What is a surprise is that she’d rouse herself before ten in the morning. It was part of the reason I’d organized to meet Chloe when I did.
Sheesh, note to self, don’t underestimate this crazy blonde chick.
I won’t make the same mistake again.
Now all I need to do is ditch her so I can get over to the Surf Shack and make things right with Chloe. I try for a polite “I’ll catch ya later,” for all the good it does. Despite impressions, I know Sylvia isn’t dense. Rather, she’s deliberately missing the signals so she can hang around.
In the end, I chuck my board on top of the van, jump into the driver’s seat, still in my wetsuit, and leave her standing in the parking lot. “I’m off to the gym for a shower. Catch ya later.”
Although not if I can help it.
The only thing I don’t tell her is which gym, because if I did, I suspect she’d be waiting outside for me after.
