Rough Waters

by Nikki Godwin

  “You are sexy as hell,” A.J. says. “Topher’s going to jizz himself. Do you need condoms? He’s going to want a piece of you. I can tell you that now.”

  Oh. My. God.

  “I can’t believe you just said that,” I say, returning to my closet. I pull all of my tank tops and T-shirts to one side and browse the dressier side of my closet.

  A.J. walks across the room to me. “He’s a Hooligan. That wild side is dying to break free, and now that big brother’s gone… I’m just saying.”

  He needs to stop ‘just saying.’ This isn’t a date. This is me, going out with a friend, to celebrate something awesome happening in my friend’s life. Although, I doubt many people wear little black dresses when hanging out with a friend of the opposite sex.

  “A.J.,” I say, spinning around and facing him. “This is Topher. Topher. He’s never even kissed a girl. Nothing is going to happen. So, no, I don’t need condoms. When did you get all grown up anyway?”

  A puzzled expression engulfs his face. “Fuck if I know,” he says. “What the hell is wrong with me? I’m worried about what you’re wearing and preaching about safe sex. Fuck. I’m getting drunk tonight.”

  “That’s my boy,” I say, giving him a one-arm hug. “But in all seriousness, is the dress okay or too much?”

  “You’re perfect,” A.J. says. “And if Topher doesn’t tell you that you’re perfect, I’m going to kick his ass all over Crescent Cove and Horn Island both.”

  It doesn’t get any better than perfect. Tonight is a big deal, and A told me, whatever I do, do it big. The dress expects it. I just hope A’s dress appreciates the symbolism of tonight as much as I do.

  “It feels like prom night, and I’m seeing my daughter off,” Reed says as we linger around the kitchen. “I feel like I should have a rifle or something hanging on the wall, posted up behind me while I stare at Topher and give him the daddy speech.”

  “Is it weird?” Alston asks, glancing up from his phone. “You know, you were dating Vin, and now you’re going on a date with his brother, and you’re looking hotter than you ever looked for Vin. It’s weird, right?”

  Headlights shine through the window, and I wait to hear the roar of Topher’s truck. An engine shuts off, and I peek out to see who it is. It’s Topher…and a black sports car.

  “Okay, I’m gone,” I say, pushing Reed back before he can lecture Topher just to embarrass me. It’s awkward enough without the roomies and their smart remarks. I grab the door and pull it shut behind me.

  “Nice car,” I say, trying to keep it casual. I wasn’t nervous before, but God knows I can’t stop shaking now. I have to get my stupid roommates out of my head – fast.

  Topher shrugs. “It’s a rental,” he says. “I just didn’t want to pick you up in my truck. It’s a mess, but you know that.”

  He shoves his hands into the pockets of his black slacks and stares at the sidewalk. He wears a black button up shirt with a silver tie. He looks classy and a bit more than adorable. I step closer to him and run my hand down the tie.

  “That dress…” Topher says, shaking his head.

  “Too much? It’s too much. I can change,” I say.

  “No, you’re perfect,” Topher says. “C’mon. We’re leaving before you have time to get back to your closet.”

  He walks me over to the car and opens the door for me. For Topher to have never been on a date, he’s pulling out the big guns. I’ve never had a guy open the car door for me before.

  “Are you test-driving this car for a possible future purchase?” I ask as he gets in the driver’s seat. He needs a new vehicle, for sure, but I can’t see Topher in anything other than a truck.

  He shakes his head. “Nowhere to put my boards,” he says. “And it’s too nice. I’d have it full of sand in the first twenty-four hours.”

  “You’re right,” I agree. “And Miles wouldn’t have anywhere to put his crutches next time he does something stupid and breaks a leg.”

  Topher laughs as he backs out of the driveway. He turns in the direction of Colby’s house, the other side of Crescent Cove.

  “You’re the only girl I know who would tell me to buy a truck instead of a sports car,” Topher says. “Even Emily would go for the car, but that’s because it’s shiny. It’s her thing.”

  The layer of sparkles on each of my eyelids can testify to that. Topher is quiet for most of the drive. I want to ask where we’re going, but I’m too scared I’ll choke on my words. This isn’t a date. I wish I could get the world out of my head and enjoy this moment. Instead, I feel like I’m going to vomit all over this super clean floorboard.

  The streetlights glow overhead, lighting up the city strip. We pass a tattoo parlor with zebra striped walls. We’ve been through here before, on our way to Toledo’s Bistro and Lounge. Topher whips the car into a parking lot outside of a sleek black building.

  “Café Jezza,” Topher says. “It’s my favorite, and I think you’ll love it. Plus, it’s sort of tradition. We came here when Colby got sponsored and when Miles got sponsored last summer too. Now it’s my turn.”

  “Shouldn’t you have brought your entourage then?” I ask as we walk toward the entrance.

  “Nah, I’d rather just have you,” Topher says.

  It takes approximately one hour, two glasses of sweet tea, and three stories about Shark, but Topher’s nerves finally seem to have chilled, which makes it much easier for me to breathe. We wait at a back corner table for our waiter to bring us the check. Topher wasn’t kidding about having to have reservations for his place. I wonder what kind of connections he has to get in here on short notice at a private table.

  While we wait, Topher explains how Café Jezza used to be a coffee shop when he was a kid. After the bakery moved in, the coffee shop lost a ton of business and almost went under. The owner decided to change it up, turned it into a five-star Italian restaurant, and made it the most popular place in Crescent Cove once again. The name never changed.

  The manager brings us our check, addresses Topher as “Mr. Brooks,” and invites us back ‘any time.’ Is this what the real world feels like? Is this what being an adult is? If so, it’s not nearly as awful as I imagined.

  Once we’re back in the car, Topher hesitates for a second. Then he looks at me. “You want to go down to the beach? Just to talk for a while?”

  I nod, but I secretly wish I had a bag of sugar cubes to feed him while we talk. He’s much more relaxed now that he has some sugar in his system, and I’d prefer to keep him that way. He drives just down the street and turns in at a dock. Boats line the wooden pier, parked for the night.

  Topher reaches down into the floorboard. “You know, I liked dressing up, really. But these shoes suck.”

  After losing the socks and shoes, he rolls up the bottom of his black pants to keep them from dragging through the sand. I leave Emily’s one-inch rhinestone-encrusted heels in the passenger floorboard. Topher wasn’t kidding. It won’t even take him twenty-four hours to end up with sand in that car.

  He grabs a beach towel from the backseat and locks the car. We make our way down to a clear spot, away from the boats. The waves roll in, calm and steady, unlike the last time I was at the beach at night with Topher. I’m so glad he doesn’t have a surfboard with him.

  He flattens the towel out on the sand. “After you,” he says.

  “Mr. Brooks, I do believe you had this planned,” I say, sitting on the towel.

  “I just like to be prepared,” he says, joining me. “It’s easier for me to talk about things when the ocean’s in front of me. It sort of balances out the craziness in my head when all my thoughts just jumble up.”

  The moon flickers like a night light for all of California, brightening up the night sky. I wish the ocean was as soothing and calming for me as it is for Topher. I don’t know if it ever will be now. Any comfort I had was ripped away when we almost lost Topher. I don’t bleed salt water like he does. The ocean may give a lot, but the ocean takes back too. Tha
t’ll always be in the back of my mind.

  “I’m moving out of the apartment,” Topher says. “It doesn’t feel right without Vin, and it’s not exactly the nicest of places. I’m tossing out the furniture, or leaving it for them to get rid of. Whatever. I’m just packing up what belongs to me, dropping the keys off, and getting out.”

  “Where will you go?” I ask, hoping it won’t be too far, even though I know it won’t be.

  “Well, Jace and Theo offered me a room at their place, and then Joe told me I could stay with him, but Miles and I are actually going to move in with Colby,” he says. “We’re going to try to make this whole Drenaline Surf brotherhood work.”

  Colby will take care of him. That much I know. I actually trust Colby to look after Topher more than I trust even Jace or Joe. Colby needs that Drenaline Surf brotherhood. He needs Topher and Miles as much as they need him, even if none of them realize it.

  We talk about his endorsement with Ocean Blast Energy, about the second store and how crazy it is that Alston and A.J. will be Drenaline Surf’s managers, and eventually about how he’s still mad at Vin for leaving.

  “I refuse to call him,” Topher says. “Right now, I can’t even hear his voice or I’ll just start screaming, you know? Joe relays information for us. Vin’s acting all grown up about it and saying how he’ll give me time. It just pisses me off even more.”

  “He’ll be back,” I say, before I even realize it. I actually wish I hadn’t. “You can take the boy out of Horn Island, but you can’t take Horn Island out of the boy. This is all just temporary.”

  The fact that I know I’m right scares me. Eventually, Vin will be back. He can’t stay gone forever. I just hope I’m not around when he resurfaces.

  I grab Emily’s shoes out of Topher’s floorboard before he walks me to the door. His slacks are still rolled up, sans shoes.

  “Thank you for tonight,” I say, wrapping my arms around his neck. I really wish I wasn’t holding a pair of heels right now. How awkward.

  “Thank you for tonight,” he corrects me. He loosens his tie. “Next time you see me, I’ll be in board shorts. And I’ll have my piece of junk truck. I don’t see how Cinderella even made it to midnight in glass shoes. I’d die.”

  This is the Topher I know, and I’m so thankful that a sponsorship won’t change who he is. I’m also thankful that his sponsorship is with Drenaline Surf. I figure Liquid Spirit will find out soon enough on their own.

  “Be careful driving home,” I say, lingering around the front door of the guest house. I hope my roommates aren’t hiding in a window watching right now. I’m embarrassed just thinking about it.

  “Always,” Topher says. He tugs at his tie again. “I’ll text you tomorrow?”

  I nod. “Sounds good. Good night.”

  After one more quick hug, Topher retreats to the rented sports car and I disappear into the guest house telling myself not to think about Topher and those stupid blue and yellow striped board shorts. I won’t think about the way his eyes light up when he’s excited or how the specks of blue literally dance around his eyeball. I won’t think at all. If I shut my brain off for the night, then there’s no way I’ll let everyone’s assumptions play with my mind.

  I drop Emily’s shoes inside my doorway, let my purse fall next to them, and immediately take these earrings out of my ears. In the middle of unclasping my necklace, there’s a knock on the guest house’s screen door.

  That didn’t take long. I mentally gamble with myself, guessing who it may be among Reed, Alston, and A.J. I settle with the two As. Reed is probably asleep by now. I step into the hallway, but Topher stands on the other side of the screen door.

  “Are you okay?” I ask.

  “Uhh, I think so. Yeah. I’m okay…Can I come in?” he asks, hesitating with his words.

  I nod, even though I’m actually a little bit scared. He seems all jittery like he did when he picked me up tonight. Maybe the sand outside of our house has been poisoned or there’s something toxic in the air.

  I step back into my bedroom. Topher follows me into the light. He looks sane and healthy. I still can’t speak, though, so I just stand here and wait for him to say something.

  “I need you to know something,” he says, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I’m not like my brother, at least not in the bad ways, and I know I’m young and reckless and do stupid things sometimes, but I know what I want.”

  He talks much too quickly, rushing his words together like if he doesn’t spit it all out right this very second, he may never say it at all.

  “Do you want to sit down?” I ask.

  He shakes his head. “I know that if I don’t do something about it now, it’s only a matter of time before someone else does, and I’ve spent the last year regretting the fact that I didn’t speak up sooner.”

  “It’s okay,” I say, even though I’m honestly not sure if it is. “You’re okay, and everything is going to work out.”

  He laughs and shakes his head his again. “You don’t even know what I’m talking about,” he says. He glances up, like he’s waiting for an intervention, but then he sighs. “I hope you won’t hate me for what I’m about to do.”

  He doesn’t give me a chance to question him.

  It’s in this very moment that my ex-boyfriend’s little brother kisses me.

  To Be Continued…

  THANK YOU!

  Thank you so much for reading Rough Waters! As an indie author, I depend heavily on my readers for word of mouth, so if you enjoyed this book, please consider leaving a review. It doesn’t have to be a book report. Short and simple is just fine and greatly appreciated!

  Acknowledgments

  Emily Godwin: My (Enchanted) Hurley girl! ;) Thank you for believing in this series from day one, before it was even a series. No one will ever understand or love Drenaline Surf the way you do. You'll always be its #1 fan, its first reader, and the girl who says, "Hey, can I date Miles Garrett?" Even more so, thank you for putting up with the endless (literally, endless) surfer talk, the days where I'm panicking over heats, and for letting me be Team JJJezina on the days I can't decide among JJF, Jezza, and Medina. (Although we both know who I'd save on the roof!) You are the best. Everrrr. Luhhh yewww.

  Rachel Schmermund: When every voice in the world knocks me down, you're the one who always picks me back up, dusts me off, and sets me back into the world. I also think, aside from Emily, you're the only person who knows how to handle my personality, my panics, and everything else that is the essence of me. You get me when the world doesn't. Thank you for being my best friend, even from half a world away. Triple hearts, always! <3 <3 <3

  The book world: Thank you to every person who read Chasing Forever Down and loved it enough to come back for more. Thank you for your reviews, your tweets, your help to spread the word, and your support, friendship, and love. Writing a book is such a tough, solitary thing, and it's always so great to know that a story I loved so much that I had to tell it has been discovered and loved by someone else.

  The surf world: When I wrote CFD, I knew nothing about professional surfing or the world that existed around it. Because of my "I feel like a fraud" mentality, I dove into learning about a sport that I've come to love. It's a happy place for me. Thank you to the ASP, Surfer Magazine, Hurley, Quiksilver, Billabong, RipCurl, Reef, Red Bull, and all of the other companies that play a role in the surf community. I apologize to anyone who follows me on Twitter for bookish updates. If you haven't unfollowed me yet due to the endless tweets about how adorable Gabriel Medina is, you deserve a medal. Speaking of...

  The surfers: Even though there are 34 guys on the ASP World Tour, some of them inspire me more than others. Thank you for helping me keep it real, keep my fictional surfers authentic, and for teaching me (inadvertently) about everything from goofy-footers to what a cutback is. The Drenaline Surf series will be better simply because of you. In particular, thank you to:

  *John John Florence, the first pro surfer I ever kep
t up with and who has made me #TeamJJF forever. He's also my favorite Hurley boy.

  *Nat Young, because he is one half of #EmilysFavoriteSurfer as well as the (new) most underrated surfer on tour, and *Filipe Toledo, the other half of #EmilysFavoriteSurfer. Also, they're part of why we prefer Hurley over Billabong, right Emily?

  *Matt Wilkinson aka Wilko, for his unique sense of everything.

  *Mitch Crews, who reminded me to get the rest of the (book) world out of my head and just focus on doing my thing. His post-heat interviews pushed me to finish Rough Waters.

  *The most important name on my acknowledgments page – Jeremy Flores, for being the most real surfer on tour, for his honesty, for his aggressive fight in the water, for the inspiration to do what I wanted to do, and for being brave enough to admit when he's broken. Without his heart-pouring honesty, I'd have never found my way back to this series to even start this book. I owe Drenaline Surf to Jezza. He's my favorite.

  *And last but never least, Gabriel Medina, the one surfer who I chose rather than him choosing me. I don't think anyone has inspired me on such a deep, intense level since Casey Calvert, and that speaks volumes for how much I believe in Gabe and how much he inspires me on a daily basis in my everyday life. Thank you simply for being. Você me faz acreditar. <3

  About The Author

  Nikki Godwin is a YA/NA/LGBT author. She can't live without Mountain Dew, black eyeliner, and music by Hawthorne Heights. When not writing, she internet-stalks her favorite bands and keeps tabs on surf competitions. Her favorite surfer is Gabriel Medina. If you ever get her started on surfing or music, she'll never shut up. You've been warned.