A Perfect Moment

by Becca Lee

  I saw it.

  I counted it in before turning toward the coastline and paddling hard. Forcing my arms to work faster, harder, I breathed deeply before turning my head to see how close I was to the wave. Feeling the lift, I hopped to my feet, which was something more akin to a rusty clamber—graceful I was not! Bent low I steadied myself, before I got my balance. Then, I was flying. Gliding along the face of the wave, euphoria charged me to the core. A smile so broad and pure spread across my face as I allowed the sense of ecstasy to take control. I had no idea how I had allowed anyone to talk me into giving this up. It was magical. A moment that was a close to perfect as I imagined I could get.

  As the wave died off, I turned in to slow myself down and threw myself into the ocean. Water settled over my head. I pushed myself up to the surface and reached for my board, immediately pulling myself back on it. I laughed loudly and looked around me as I turned the board around and headed once more back out to the green.

  After another hour or so of playing, I headed back to the beach. Walking to my car, I saw Preston leaning against it. Water dripped off his naked torso as he stood casually looking on at me, smiling. He was one fine-looking man. My heart stuttered a little when my eyes brushed over his chest and made contact with his eyes.

  “Hey,” I greeted, a small smile on my face.

  “Hey yourself. Have fun?”

  My small smile formed into a grin. I couldn’t prevent it from happening, as much as I wanted to keep a little distance until I made myself clear. “It was amazing. You saw me?”

  His eyes raked over my body before he answered with a breathy, “Yes.” I felt flames hit my cheeks; perhaps I won’t be needing a towel to dry off today!

  “Oh,” was all I managed in response.

  “It looked like you needed time to yourself, so I left you to it.”

  He was so bloody thoughtful; this man would surely kill me with his perfection. Damn it! “Thank you. I did need some time to myself.” I hesitated before I walked closer to my car prepared to strap my board to the roof. Before I had chance, Preston took my board off me and secured it in place. “Thanks,” I whispered.

  He threw a quizzical look over his shoulder. “No worries. Shall we go and get breakfast?”

  I needed to speak to him somewhere quiet, and this moment seemed as good a time as any, if that were even a possibility. “Erm, perhaps we could just go for a walk on the beach?”

  “Sure.” He smiled, although there appeared to be a false brightness to it. “Let’s go.”

  I quickly removed my rash vest and placed it out on my car to dry, but then immediately thought maybe it wasn’t my wisest move ever. Preston’s gaze turned hungry as it settled on my bikini-clad breasts. Oh hell, how am I going to have this talk with him when he’s looking at me like that?

  We headed back toward the beach. We walked south, following the water’s edge. The warm sand caressed my feet, still too early in the morning to be making me hop with its heat. I took comfort and strength in the sound of the waves as they lapped on to the shore, allowing the repetitive motion to help organise and settle my thoughts.

  I swallowed before I spoke. I had to do this. “So yesterday, I’m sorry I accused you or questioned you, or whatever.” My words were nowhere near as clear as I had hoped. So much for the calming bloody waves!

  Out the corner of my eye I saw Preston glance at me, a smile playing on his lips. “It’s okay. Well, it’s not. Not that you’re not, I mean ... Ben. I have no idea what his problem is.” He sighed deeply and gave a nervous laugh. “I would start that sentence again, but you understand me, right?” I nodded ever-so-slightly. “Ella?” He stopped, reached out and placed his warm hand on my forearm.

  Reluctantly, I stopped and turned to him. I knew I needed to get myself together. This blathering mess was not me. I steeled my resolve while ensuring there was no hardness in my voice. He hadn’t done anything wrong. “I do understand you. I do, and I believe you.”

  “Why do I feel there is a but coming?”

  “It’s just ...” I refused to say the cliché lines that were sitting on the edge of my tongue it’s not you; it’s me. “Well, I just can’t do this, Preston. We’re so wonderful together as friends. As your friend I trust you implicitly, but I just can’t allow myself to get involved.” I forced myself to keep eye contact with him. His eyes closed briefly, pain flashing across his face. “I thought I could. I did, and I tried. But my heart, shit, Preston, my heart can’t take it. Yesterday, the thought of you lying to me, cheating on me—”

  “I didn’t do anything, and nor would I ever.”

  “I know. Rationally, I know this, Preston. I do. But yesterday I just proved to myself I’m not ready to trust yet. I just can’t do it. I’m sorry. I wish I could take—”

  For the second time he interrupted me. My heart lunged at the pain and anger swirling in his eyes. “Don’t you dare finish that sentence, El. No. I won’t hear it. What we have is good; hell, it’s fucking great. You need to stop being a chicken shit and face the truth of it. I won’t let you run from this—from me.”

  I shook my head, swallowing back the tears pooling in my eyes. I couldn’t afford to cry. I needed to stay strong. I couldn’t keep leading him on. Taking a step back, I gulped out, “I need to protect myself, Preston. I can’t do that with you. I just can’t. I’m so sorry.” My heart was close to shattering; I was sure of it. It wasn’t meant to be like this. Our friendship could survive this. It had to. I’d fight for it. Yet still, it felt like I was pulling and squeezing at my heart. Vomit settled in my stomach. I had to get out of there. I could not have a freaking breakdown on the beach. I knew I was overreacting and needed to pull my crap together. It wasn’t like Preston was the love of my life. Damn, we’d only been sort-of dating in a no-label version of it for a few days.

  I took a step back and whispered, “I’m sorry.” I turned on my heels and ran. Not classy, not planned, and totally chicken shit and necessary.

  As I ran, I half expected to feel Preston’s strong hand clamp around my wrist. His face had paled as I spoke to him before he turned an angry shade of red. He was pissed, and I couldn’t blame him. I was pissed at me too. I stumbled to my car, my tears finally releasing as I pulled my vest off the bonnet, jumped behind the wheel and grabbed my keys from their hidey-hole. Starting the engine, I swiped at my tears, failing to choke down the sob that was forming. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. I pulled away, my mantra on repeat in my head.

  ***

  A cold silence filled the house. It truly felt lonely. I lived by myself; I had since I was twenty-two, so silence was nothing new to me. Rather, I usually embraced the lack of noise, loving the quiet after spending hours in the classroom with noisy teenagers. I glanced at my mobile phone that sat on the hallway table, and my fingers itched for the warmth of Jo. I didn’t text her. The last thing she wanted was for her stupid-arse best friend to ruin her honeymoon with tales of woe after splitting with a guy who she’d been dating for a few measly days. Thinking of the reality of my situation made me cringe. If one of my friends came to me with a similar story after my initial pat on the arm—I wasn’t the best with touchy-feely situations—I would have no doubt rolled my eyes and told them to suck it up. It had been a few days.

  Inadequacy at my overblown feelings raced through my system. Am I really that pathetic? Part of me scoffed and nodded in agreement, while another sneaky stealth-like bastard part, cried out, No, it’s Preston; it’s not just any guy!

  I didn’t like either response. I would wash my face, work out what the hell I was going to do with the rest of my day, and then work on a plan to apologise to Preston, as in my friend Preston, in a desperate hope that we could repair our friendship. It was going to be one heck of a task, but damn it, I was one determined woman when I wanted to be—not to be mistaken with stubborn of course; the term ‘determined’ sat a little more comfortably in my already irrational state.

  Chapter Twelve

  Preston


  I’d deliberately left Ella alone for a few days, but by the time Saturday arrived, I’d just about had enough. There was only so much distraction that the surf, gym and hanging out with a couple of friends could offer. It had been a week since Jo’s wedding, when my world had spun arse up in the air and had decided to crash-land in a shitty heap at my feet.

  I mulled over what I was going to do about Ella. When we had been on the beach, I had been beyond angry. A fierce fist had hit me in the gut. It was ridiculous and had only started because of that tosser Ben—just one more reason why he was on my shit list. I was back at work on Monday and I’d already decided I’d have it out with him after our shift. My anger had toned down. Yeah, I was still pissed, but even though I wanted to shake the stupid out of her and kiss the trust back in, I begrudgingly understood she was protecting herself. Hence, the space I had given her. Yet that morning when I woke, I knew I couldn’t keep my mouth shut any more.

  With Jo getting back in the country the next day, I needed to sort out what was going on between Ella and me before the third interfering wheel—better known as my big sister—came barrelling in with her two-cents worth. Although, I doubted I’d solve all of our problems in twenty-four hours. I just had to hope that I could build some sort of bridge to convince her to change her mind. Again.

  I pulled up at her house and found her sitting outside, drinking from a mug. It felt a bit like déjà vu, me rocking up at her house, trying to convince her we should be an us. I knew she was worth it. It didn’t matter how long it would take; I would grind her shields down. I’d waited ten years already, and while I didn’t want it to be that long again, I was one stubborn son-of-a-bitch when I wanted to be.

  Ella nibbled on her bottom lip as she watched me approach. Dark bags were settled under her eyes. She shifted nervously on the bench as I stepped on to the veranda and took a seat opposite her.

  Smiling tentatively, she squeaked out a “hi” before lifting her steaming mug up to her lips.

  “Hey.” Not smooth, but I was relieved that my voice was calm and didn’t reveal the heaviness in my gut. Her pitiful face had my heart lurching. I just wanted to kiss the life back in her. “You been okay?”

  Nodding, she sipped her drink and rested her mug on her lap, both hands gripping onto it. “I’m okay,” she replied with a shrug.

  I assumed “okay” was girl-speak for I feel like shit, pretty close to the “I’m fine” response, which usually meant they were far from it. I‘d learned some shit about women over the years, admittedly for having a pain-in-the-arse big sister. “You wanna do something?”

  She closed her eyes and sighed. A pained expression formed on her brow. “Preston,” she opened her eyes, “I just don’t think that’s such a good idea.” She examined her mug and continued when I didn’t speak straight away, “you know, us do something together.”

  The caveman in me wanted to beat against my chest, put her in her place, throw her over my shoulder and not give her any chance to sprout the crap coming from her delicious mouth. But even though the Ella in front of me was a million miles away from her usual loud, no-talking-shit mouth, I was sure pissing on her leg would push her over the edge.

  I gulped back my frustration and put away my club. “So we can’t be friends? You don’t want that?”

  Her eyes flicked back toward me. Doubt and hope flickered through them, a combination that sparked my need to reach out to protect and comfort her.

  “I want nothing more than to be your friend. I just—I just don’t know how to be friends with you after ...” Her voice trailed off, with her eyes moving away from mine.

  “Bullshit.” My voice was a little louder than I’d intended. She jerked back quickly, her eyebrows raised high.

  Her mouth formed an O before her eyes pinched in, letting me know I’d managed to get a reaction from her. “What do you mean ‘bullshit’?” Steel entered her voice, and pink tinged her cheeks. She looked more alive, more herself with that touch of colour. “Do you think this is all some sort of stupid fucking joke?” Her voice raised as she finished her question and her jaw clenched. “Nothing about this is bullshit or easy, you arse. Seriously, Preston ...” She allowed her voice to dwindle, shook her head and looked away from me.

  I wasn’t sure if I was happy I’d managed to get something real from her, or shit scared she was going to chew me out. She looked thoroughly pissed off. But pissed-off Ella was easier to handle than sad Ella. Pissed-off Ella I was used to. I had been winding her up for as long as I could remember, and there had never been a time I hadn’t succeeded in winning her over and being in her good graces once again. Hell, yes. I can totally do pissed-off Ella.

  “Exactly that. I call bullshit. You either want to make this work or you don’t.” I deliberately didn’t make it clear exactly what relationship I was referring to. Damn if I’d make this easier on her. At some time between saying “hey” and calling “bullshit”, I’d decided the only way to win her over was for her to come to the realisation herself. I’d already pushed her, and that hadn’t ended well. She had to come to me herself, on her terms. Obviously, I would be there the whole freakin’ way, playing dirty when I could. Hell, I could be stealth when I needed to be. But the point was, she needed to deal with her shit and then realise that I was the only one for her. I tried not to give away a facial tell when I realised that in my epiphany of Win El Over, I had grown a fucking vagina. Immediately, Chesney fucking Hawkes’ “The One And Only” played out in my head. Definitely a vagina moment. Note to self: No more karaoke nights with dodgy 90s music.

  Her face relaxed at my words, her eyes softening. “I do. I really do. I don’t want to lose you. We’ve been friends forever. The thought of you not in my—”

  “Never gonna happen,” I interrupted. “You’re not going to lose me.” I was pissed at her use of “friends”, but I fumbled for my plan of attack in all of twenty seconds, while she was speaking. It didn’t take a genius to know my plan probably wouldn’t work. But I had no better strategy at the time.

  Her eyes lifted to mine, a sheen of unshed tears evident. A smile lit her face. “Okay.” She sighed.

  Her softening expression made me speak out before she could think things through properly. “I’m back at work on Monday. Jo’s back tomorrow. I really want to get this, us, straight before she interferes and makes things worse.” She smiled at my words. “Plus, I’m working shifts next week, so I won’t be around much.”

  “I’m not working, remember? School holidays.” She took a sip of her coffee. Using her mug as a shield, she looked away.

  I couldn’t hold back the grin. “True. I forgot that. I’m so used to you being buried in work and not having a life.”

  She placed her empty mug on the floor and stretched out contentedly. “Tell me about it. Five more weeks of this before the real world of having no life kicks back in.”

  “So, a bunch of us are heading to Bryon Bay. We’re going to leave in about an hour and be back on Monday morning. My shift doesn’t start until Monday night, so I thought I’d make the most of it.” It was all total bullshit. Yet another brainwave I’d had while talking to her. I figured since she kept retreating to the safety of her home, and with Jo being back tomorrow, the two of us being away would at least give us another twenty-four hours. I looked at her, hoping to hell my game face was in place. She could usually smell my bullshit from a kilometre away. However, her eyes lit up at the mention of Byron. Result.

  “There’s a fantastic swell coming in, so we thought we’d make the most of it. We’ll just camp out and spend the next twenty-four hours completely relaxing and making the most of the water.” I watched on as she nibbled her bottom lip. I barely suppressed a groan. I wanted to gently bite and suck on that lip, drawing out small whimpers from her. Damn if I'm not getting a stiffy. “So what do you think? You in? I’m meeting the guys in an hour.” I hoped. Fuck, I needed to get the boys on the phone and get to grovelling. I wasn’t lying about the swell, but we’d had no i
ntention of driving the three hours south to Byron. I would be on Shit Street if I couldn’t pull this off.

  “So there’s a bunch of us going?” I stopped myself doing a fist pump when she said “us”.

  “Yep. Not quite sure exactly who yet.” I was sort of telling the truth, at least. “Some of the guys had to organise some stuff first, but yeah, there’ll definitely be a group.”

  El looked away momentarily, so I couldn’t read her face. No doubt she was over-thinking shit again, but what was a guy to do? I’d already created my half-cocked plan; it made sense to follow through. She turned her face back toward me, a look of resolution in her eyes. The brightness was still there, and she couldn’t quite keep back the nervous smile that played on her lips. “Okay, I’m in. I’ll be ready in an hour.”

  Holy shit. Whoever said half-cocked plans don’t work needed to look at the genius that was me. She totally bought it. I backed away with a smile, needing to get the hell out of there and make some calls. Plus, I didn’t want her to change her mind.

  “Awesome. I’ll pick you up in an hour. Just pack your gear, no need for a tent; I’ve got mine.” She raised her eyebrows, preparing to stop me. “Hey, it’s not the first time we’ve shared a tent. We’ve been doing it since we were kids. No need to stop now.” She didn’t look convinced, so I simply spun around, calling out that I’d see her in an hour and took off.

  I headed straight to the beach, hoping to find Mac and John. They were work and surf buddies of mine. I knew they had the weekend off. I raced down the beach when I saw their empty cars parked along the shorefront. Waving frantically, no doubt looking like a total prick, I called out to them. After five minutes of frantic waving and hollering, John finally spotted me and paddled in, and not a moment too soon. I was just about to tackle a kid for his board to take off out to sea to drag their arses back to shore.