***
Lo
Lo scrunched her messy hair in her hands. It looked really great actually. She was going for “carefree beachy tousled” and seemed to be pulling it off. She knew she wasn't supposed to care. But she cared a great deal.
It was like being a teenager again. The cutest boy in the whole school had been giving her hidden glances and open smiles. She liked it. She liked it so much she never wanted to wake up. Because this was a dream obviously, and who knew when it was going to end?
He had pushed and pressed to have her show him around. Today's rain storm had offered the perfect opportunity.
She leaned forward and darkened her eyeliner just a little. They were just hanging out. As friends.
Her hand trembled and she stared at it in the mirror. Taking a deep breath, she leaned forward again to make another attempt. Again, the pencil in her hand shook too much.
Straightening, she set the pencil on the vanity and closed her eyes. Had she had too much caffeine? Not enough sleep?
Brady's face flashed into her mind. His open smile as she had entered the small apartment. It wasn't fair. His teeth were entirely too white, his eyes too blue, his torso too shirtless.
Maybe it was because there had been so much concentrated togetherness since they'd left town. Realistically, she thought they'd kind of do their own thing, see each other off and on, maybe interact occasionally. She hadn't banked on spending nearly every waking moment with him. Let alone the ease and familiarity they had slipped into.
Her heart pounded haphazardly in her chest and her eyes flew open, connecting immediately in the mirror.
She was scared.
Because she liked him.
But more than that, she wanted him to like her back.
The pounding in her chest increased.
She wanted him to like her and not leave.
Shit.
She was too damn excited about today's events. Never had anyone asked to see where she had grown up, where her love for the sea had first developed. She was too different. Maybe he saw her as a novelty, the way Miller had. She had developed her skill in the cold waters of the North Atlantic while both Brady and Miller were children of the warm Pacific.
The bite of the cold had taught her early on she could surf whatever wave life threw at her, as long as she was wearing the proper outer shell. A wetsuit to guard against the temperature drop. It was the kind of lesson she'd been able to apply to her heart—keep the warmth protected, hide it.
She squeezed her eyes together and fought against the irrational thoughts bombarding her brain.
It wasn't like that anymore.
She'd let people in. She'd learned to make lasting friendships by taking chances on good people. Tessa and Spencer were perfect examples of that.
Not everyone left. Some people loved honestly.
It wasn't fair to judge people based on the isolated actions of a few selfish individuals.
However, and she was trying to be entirely pragmatic about this, she had no idea what category Brady fit into. The super hot, confusing category.
***
Brady
Lo left the bathroom and stood before him, dangling the keys.
“Let me guess, the love of your life just walked back into the room?”
Brady tore his eyes away from Lo and glared at Bo, who held his palms up, an enormous grin plastered on his face. “Don't shoot the messenger! If you could see your face, you'd agree with me.”
Brady flattened his lips. “Just try to stay out of trouble, would ya?”
“Hey, Brady, man, for real.” Bo's face got serious. “Have fun. Proud of you, big brother.”
Brady froze. He never knew what to do with Bo's random and unexpected moments of sincerity. And in a flash, Bo helped him through it.
“I better let you get back to that hot piece waiting on you.”
Brady shook his head. “You're a dick.”
Bo laughed heartily and ended the call. Brady tugged the ear buds out of his ears and stood up.
He didn't miss the way Lo's eyes scanned his bare chest, lingering in a way that had him feeling warmer than usual.
“I guess I should put a shirt on,” he said. Her eyes snapped up to his and her cheeks turned a bright pink.
“It's pretty cold,” she agreed, her tone not sounding cold at all. “And it's getting ready to rain.”
“Then I'll bring a jacket.”
“Good.”
They stared at one another as the seconds ticked by. This happened occasionally. She would linger, and he would let her. It was as if she had something right on the tip of her tongue, something she wanted to ask or say or state. And he would wait.
For as long as it took.
13
Brady
The pub was bigger than the one they had been frequenting. But somehow cozier. A large bar ran the length along the left, with tables and booths filling in the middle and right side. Stairs at the back led up to more tables, but was more than likely used later in the day when business picked up.
They were seated, they ordered food. Lo took her hair, damp from the rain, and twisted it over one shoulder, her eyes scanning the room. Finally, she focused on Brady. The full force of those translucent eyes never failed to hit him square in the chest.
“It's not an exciting story. I don't want to disappoint you again.”
Brady's head tilted to the side as he tried to decipher what she meant. “How many times have you told it?” he asked, dropping his eyes to the beers the server set on their table.
Lo took hold of her glass and folded her hands around it.
Together they'd explored the beach in the rain, she'd shown him where she'd gotten her first kiss and the house she'd lived in with a woman she referred to as grandma. Told him stories about the older kids who taught her to surf. It was a glimpse into her past, the beginning of an outline. But he was discovering she was made up of so much more than simply past events.
It was if she had made herself, and was still making herself.
“I told you my parents are hippies. That's the simplest term. They...” she swallowed, frowned at her glass, and decided to take a healthy drink. She wiped the foam from her mouth with the back of one hand and continued.
“My mom used to say they had restless heart syndrome. But I'm pretty sure they have young adult disease—they never want to grow up. Maybe it was because they were both rich kids with zero discipline, I really don't know. I was eight when we moved here. Tabitha was an older woman who rented the house next door to us. She lived alone, but was quite active in our little neighborhood. She sort of took care of all of us. She told me to call her Grandma.
“I wasn't close with my actual grandparents, mostly due to us moving around all the time. So it was easy for me to get super attached. And a year later, when my parents decided they needed to leave again, Grandma offered to let me stay with her.”
Brady studied her passive expression as she belted back more of her beverage and scanned the room again. “Your parents left you in another country with a stranger?”
Lo sighed. “I know how it sounds. But I was better off with Tabitha than them. I love my parents, I do. But they had no interest in raising me. Not if it interfered with their pursuit of individuality.”
The way she said it made it sound like it had been repeated to her often and she had quickly grown cynical.
“They just liked to travel?” he asked.
Lo's eyes darkened and something new came to the surface of her expression. “Travel is the tip of the iceberg. My mom is an idiot who hitched her star to an addict. She overlooks his affairs and using because she's stupid in love with him. She thinks true love means never asking the other person to change who they are. Even if that person breaks your heart daily. Like I said, I was better off with Tabitha. She made me go to school, taught me basic life skills, loved me.” Wetness gathered in Lo's eyes. “She made sure I would have a fighting chance. After she passed, I had
to go back to my parents. They were in New Zealand at the time. But at fourteen, I knew what was and was not okay to be around. We made it to San Diego just after I turned fifteen, and I finished school as fast as possible. I liked the weather and made a plan to come back, no matter what it took.”
“So why take a job that will just remind you of all that? I mean, the travel and stuff.”
“I like to travel,” Lo replied with a shrug and a frown. “Maybe I was born to it. But as long as I can plant my feet in the ocean, no matter where I'm at, I feel home.”
Their food arrived and Lo dug in. Apparently eager to end story time. But Brady had even more questions than before. Like a million more.
“Where does Miller Boden fit in to all this?”
Lo's head jerked up and her back went straight. “What do you know about Miller?”
Brady tried to relax his tone and posture, not understanding her sudden defensiveness. “I heard you two used to date.”
Lo's eyes narrowed and her mouth grew small as she tried to decide whether or not she believed him. Brady didn't like the slithery feeling in his gut at misleading her.
“I read your blog,” he confessed, dropping his eyes to his dish. He took a bite and chanced a glance upwards again. She was staring into her plate.
“Miller is just an ex. Just... a mistake I once made.”
They ate their food silently. Not an uncomfortable silence though. No, it was as if the pressure on their shaken bottle of their partnership had been eased. He didn't know everything about her, but he knew more. And while what she shared was obviously not fun for her to talk about, Brady felt privileged she trusted him with it.
The undercurrent of mystery he continuously sensed in her was a little clearer. Not fully, but he would take what he could get.
She shook her arms out to the sides and wiggled her entire body in her seat as she let out a frustrated growl. “Okay, we're done with that. No more talk about stupid people we can't change.” She flashed him a smile and pointed to his food. “Do you like it?”
Brady nodded. “It's very good. But I really like this.” He held up his beverage. “Beer tastes different here.”
“You might want to take it easy,” she warned, arching an eyebrow. “The Irish know their lager.”
Brady looked outside at the rain still coming down in waves. “It's not like we have anywhere else to be.”
She raised her glass and toasted him. “To the rain then.”
“To the rain.”
***
Lo
“C'mon!” Lo called down the hall. “I made breakfast. Let's eat so we can get out of here before it rains again.”
Her command was met with silence. She set the plates down on the breakfast bar and headed towards Brady's room. A pile of covers stirred but did not eject a certain surfer. She leaned against the door frame, crossing her arms.
“Brady Samson,” she asked in disbelief. “Do you have a hangover?”
The blankets groaned.
She chuckled. “I told you to take it easy on that stuff. The Irish don't mess around.”
He pulled the white comforter down, exposing his pillow-creased face and red rimmed eyes. “I think it's the flu.”
Lo nodded. “Yeah I used to get the flu when I lived here all the time. I still had to go to school.”
“Wait. Weren't you like fourteen?”
She winked. “So much you don't know.” She turned around and headed back down the hall, calling over her shoulder, “I'll be back later. Take it easy and drink some water.”
She sat down and ate both plates of food, no reason to let it go to waste. She felt fine, but that's because she'd stopped herself at two beers. Brady hadn't. And had, in fact, gotten very drunk and very cuddly. She had to help him out the car when he began asking her if she'd ever read Angela's Ashes and then began singing a very poor rendition of “Danny Boy.” Lo couldn't even be mad at him, he was absolutely adorable. And truthfully, she was happy he'd managed to make the rest of the day fun and bright despite her past and the rain.
A shuffling in the hall caught her attention. Brady emerged with the white comforter wrapped completely around him like a cocoon. Her lips pulled up on one side.
“You're not going to stay and take care of me?” he asked.
“No.” She laughed and cleared the plates. “I warned you to slow down last night.” She wiggled a finger, pointing at all that was Brady. “This is self-inflicted.”
He frowned, both displeased and ashamed.
“You're mean,” he croaked, looking for all intents and purposes like a wounded puppy.
Lo crossed the room and took a solid look at him. He wasn't sweaty or feverish, she even checked his forehead to make sure.
“You have a hangover,” she said plainly. “You really want me to stay here and take care of you instead of going out for a couple hours today? If you ask me to stay, I will.”
Brady looked to the floor and his shoulders sagged. “No. You should go.”
Lo chewed on her bottom lip as she studied his gloomy figure. “It's gonna rain in a couple of hours. I'll come back soon and we can watch movies all day on the couch.”
He lifted his eyes, hope brimming though the redness. “Yeah?”
She shook her head to break the connection. “You're too adorable for your own good, you know that, Brady?”
***
Brady
True to her word, Lo came back early. The first drops of rain began pelting the windows and Brady arranged himself on the couch, ready for his buddy to arrive.
She came flying in, soaked, shortly after.
“I'm gonna shower!” she called, dropping her gear at the door and running into the bathroom.
Truthfully, Brady had begun feeling better about an hour after she had left. He ate, showered, shaved, checked his messages, talked to Bo, then Shane, then Kip.
The bathroom door opened—“I have to get dressed!”—her bedroom door closed.
Brady went ahead and turned on the TV, flipping it over to the Pay Per View channel for choices.
“Okay, I'm here for movie time,” Lo announced, holding her arms out to the sides like she was ready for inspection. Which Brady's eyes did automatically.
“Are those my sweatpants?” he asked.
“Yeah, I stole them when we were packing,” she said, plopping down on the couch and reaching for the soft blanket Brady had draped over his lap.
“You stole them.”
“Yeah.”
She finally turned to face him when she realized he was staring at her. Her eyes widened. “What? I like them! They're so soft!”
“You can't just take things that aren't yours, Lo,” Brady began to reprimand, but she was already smiling like he was joking. “I'm serious. How would you feel if I took something of yours without telling you?”
“I don't have anything that you want,” she answered with a shrug.
He didn't intend for his eyes to drop to her lips instantly, but that's exactly what happened. He cleared his throat and looked away quickly. “Whatever,” he muttered.
He was surprised he hadn't kissed her last night considering it was all he thought about when he was sober. He would never be able to explain exactly how relieved and disappointed he felt when he woke up in his bed alone that morning. He wanted her, but not in a hasty, intoxicated, impulsive way.
“Are you really mad at me?” she asked, scooting closer to him and pulling the blanket over both of their laps.
He didn't answer. Instead, he pretended to be looking through the movie choices when actually he was hyper-focused on what she was doing with the blanket and her hands and her body. He found himself reclining in the corner of the couch and she wrapped an arm around his middle and nestled her head into the space between his arm and his chest, her cheek pressed to his pec.
Randomly, he chose some stupid romantic comedy and pressed play.
“Don't be mad at me,” Lo softly implored, her arm around his middle
squeezing him tighter. “I'll give them back.”
“I'm not mad.” Brady allowed his arm at her back to curve around and rest on her hip. Frustrated, excited, confused... not mad.
“How was it out there today?” he asked.
“Choppy. I wiped out pretty huge a couple times. Cold, too.” She snuggled deeper into him. “This feels so much better. How's the hangover?”
“Basically gone.”
“Good.”
Brady was pretty sure this was not what Shane had pictured when he'd sent out a team to test equipment and report back. Cuddling on the couch watching movies?
He was falling for her. Hard.
And he wasn't even trying to stop it.
He hoped when he hit bottom, he wouldn't be there alone.
14
Brady
Lo's body jolted in his arms and woke him. The crashing thunder came next.
When she'd fallen asleep halfway through the movie, her body curled around his, he allowed himself to rest too. Having her in his arms had become his most relaxed state of being. And it didn't freak him out. She belonged with him, around him, all over him.
She pushed against his chest and he reluctantly loosed his arms to set her free. Peeking through slits in his eyes, he watched her run a hand through her hair and attempt to orient herself. They were still on the couch where they must've fallen asleep watching movies.
The dark of the night outside, highlighted by the occasional flashes of lightning, confirmed his suspicion they'd slept the afternoon and evening away.
“Are you awake?” she asked, her voice husky from sleep.
He grunted an affirmative before reaching his arms over his head and stretching. When he was finished, he was pleased to see Lo watching him. Unafraid and relaxed. A light of curiosity shined from her eyes he was suddenly very interested in.
Like the Back of My Halo Page 13