Chapter 5
five
L ater that night, I glanced at the clock over the stove. Looked like a few hours had passed since I’d gotten home from dinner. I yawned, grabbed the remote, and turned off the television. With a low groan, I stood up and stretched my arms over my head. Was Micah out on his patio? Should I check? Probably not a good idea, but that wouldn’t stop me. I stepped to my patio door and slid it open, peeking my head around the corner and gazing through the billowing fog. The crashing of waves down below the bluffs filled my ears, but nothing else. Micah’s patio was empty.
With a harsh exhale, I closed the door, then made my way to bed. As I lay on my back, I gazed at the ceiling and rested my arm across my forehead. At least things had seemed to progress. We’d had a friendly conversation, and Micah didn’t seem so annoyed by my presence. I grinned and turned on my side, breathing in the faint scent of him on the pillow. Tomorrow, we’d have fun. Maybe I should let things be and not press him on anything. Just have a good time. I shut my eyes.
* * *
My cell phone buzzed on the nightstand. I opened my eyes and grabbed it—7:30 a.m. Micah had said to meet at eight. I got out of bed and padded to the kitchen to start my oatmeal. After setting it in the microwave over the stove, I put a pod into the coffee maker sitting on the counter and slid a coffee cup underneath. A few button presses, and it was brewing.
I stepped into my bedroom and changed into my gray striped board shorts, then rummaged through my closet for my wetsuit. Sliding it on, I pulled the zipper up with the cord in the back. Grabbing my backpack, I headed back to the kitchen.
I poured flavored creamer into my coffee and milk into my oatmeal, then took them both to the table and sat down to eat. Near the end of my meal, someone knocked on the door.
I jumped up, strode to the door, and opened it.
Micah stood in the doorway, a black wetsuit hugging his slender body, and he held a backpack in his hand. His gaze found mine, and he smiled. “Hey.”
There it was, that beautiful smile. My heartbeat sped up as I took in his slim yet muscular body. Damn, he was just my type. My cock twitched. “Hey. Come in.” I stepped aside.
He strolled inside, looked around, and sat at the table across from my food with his backpack in his lap.
“Did you eat?” I asked, shoveling the last bit of oatmeal into my mouth.
“Yeah. I made some eggs and toast.”
I nodded and drank the rest of my coffee, then brought the dishes to the sink, rinsed them, and set them in the dishwasher.
He watched me. “You know, you’re pretty neat for being a rock star.”
“Why are rock stars not supposed to be neat?” I snorted. If only he’d seen the tour bus. Nothing neat about that.
“You actually don’t seem to act like one at all.” He fingered the backpack in his lap.
I stepped closer to him. “How are rock stars supposed to act?”
He gazed at me. “I always thought they were messy, drinking all the time, on drugs, and had girls everywhere.”
“Well, then you’d have loved the tour. It was just like that.” I grabbed my board and backpack. “Drugs are not my thing anymore. Not after my brother...” My breath caught in my throat. Nope, I wouldn’t talk about that today.
He stood, brushing his long bangs to the sides of his brown eyes. “Yeah, I get it.”
“Should we go? We still have to buy you a board.” I stepped to the door and opened it.
“Yes.” Micah walked out to the cement walkway.
I followed him to my Jeep.
* * *
We strolled the beach, the morning sun shining, a fog bank poised to roll in. Sitting in the wetter sand, I slid on my booties and glanced at Micah’s shorter board. “So, when you get better, you get smaller boards, huh?”
“Yeah, you can control them more. A shorter board is also better for bigger waves.” He slid his hands in his gloves. “I plan on hitting some of the bigger ones.” He gave me a smirk.
I chuckled. “We’ll see if I can keep up with you.”
Grabbing my arm, he said, “Really, don’t do anything stupid. People die out there. You just started this.” His gaze bore into me.
“Ah, okay.” I studied him and the hand now leaving my arm. He cared about me. I stood up and wrapped the tether around my leg. “Ready?”
He finished with his tether and rose. “Ready.”
We walked into the surf, the cold water chilling me inside the wetsuit at first, then warming. I placed my board in the water and paddled, staying next to Micah.
He gazed at me and the corner of his lips curled. “Wow, it’s been a while since I’ve done this.”
“Really? How long?” I looked out at sea. A band of surfers rode waves to my left.
“About a year, I think.” He paddled faster and moved ahead of me.
He was stronger than he looked. I fought to keep up.
When we arrived at the area where the waves swelled and crested, we stopped and turned our boards around, waiting for the right swell.
He eyed me. “Listen, I was serious when I said to not do anything stupid.”
“I know.” My belly rested on the board as it rose and fell with each wave.
He widened his eyes, threw his arms in the water, and paddled. A large swell came up, and he took it. As the wave grew to almost crest, he hopped with precision onto his board and stood with bent knees, his arms steady and in front of him. With graceful movements, he steered the board into and out of the wave, weaving, following it partway into shore, then jumped into the surf.
I whispered, “Holy shit. He can surf.”
He paddled back to me, his hair stuck to his head, exposing the perfection of his doll-like face.
I waited, gawking at the muscles in his arms through the neoprene of his wetsuit and, finally, the tight ass. Desire filtered through me. “Pretty good.”
“You like that, huh?” He rested his elbows on the board, a full-on smile gracing his lips.
“Yeah.” I liked all of it, not just the surfing. “So, let’s see if I can do that.”
I took the next wave, paddling hard, then slapped my hands to the board and pushed up. I made it to my feet and did my best to stay on the board and the wave, but I lost my balance and fell into the sea. As I burst out, I found my board and pulled myself over it. “Damn.” I paddled back out.
He paddled further and to the left, toward bigger swells. Once there, he turned. A chest-high wave rolled up behind him, and he paddled to catch it. When the wave approached, he quickly popped onto his board and surfed it, reaching out his arm to touch the wave’s side, almost entering the barrel if it was larger.
I beamed with adoration. I’m impressed. There was no other way to say it. There was more to him than his grief. Much more, and I wanted to know it all.
We stayed on the ocean for another hour, each taking turns with the waves. Hunger pangs gnawed at my gut as I glanced at him. I paddled toward him. “Hey, Micah.”
He threw me a stern look. “Don’t ride a wave out here.”
“I’m not. I’m getting hungry. Thought we could go get some lunch.” I stopped and floated on my board.
“Oh. Sure.” He took the next wave and paddled, hopped up on his board, and easily rode it all the way in.
I paddled further into shore and rode a wave in on my belly. As my board hit the sand, I rolled off to sit in the surf, laughing.
He stood over me with his board under his arm, his long bangs dripping salt water. “Well, that’s one way to return to shore.” He gave a sharp chuckle and flipped his wet bangs over his head.
“It’s not graceful, but it’s still fun.” I stood and grabbed my board.
We walked onto the beach, but still in wet sand, and sat down to remove the tethers, booties, and gloves. After standing back up, we strolled to our backpacks and grabbed them.
“Where should we go for lunch?” I peeked at him.
“How about Camelot Fish and Chips?” He swayed his body as he walked.
I homed in on the seductive sway of his hips. Fuck. Lust flickered through me. If I could, I’d take him to bed right now.
“They seriously have the best fish and chips I’ve ever had,” he said with a smile.
“Sounds good.” I made a quick adjustment to the wetsuit over my swelling dick. Damn.
“You brought a shirt, right?” He gazed at me.
“Yep.” I stepped toward the brick bathrooms.
“Let’s change out of the wetsuits and put on our shirts. I’m assuming you have shorts on underneath your wetsuit?”
My gaze drew to him. “Yeah, shouldn’t I?”
He smirked. “Some people go commando. I’m not one of them. Wasn’t sure if you were.”
“Guess not.” My mind flooded with the vision of his naked body under the wetsuit, waking my cock even more. I’d better get out of the wetsuit fast.
* * *
We pulled up to a one-story plaza close to our apartments, with a shingled roof and an overhang held up by round, wooden beams. A red door sat next to a row of white windows over a section of brick. I parked the Jeep and turned it off. Now dressed in half-dry board shorts and long-sleeve t-shirts, we both got out, and I stepped to Micah’s side. “Looks like a hole in the wall.”
“It is.” He opened the door for me.
I stepped inside and took in the small restaurant, walking past a few low tables scattered over a dark floor and an angled ceiling with beams, giving it an Olde England vibe. I followed him to the far end, where a red wall and a counter resembling a small pub bar waited. I scanned over an assortment of framed pictures on the wall, some showing off beers, others English history. “This place is pretty cool.”
A man in a black t-shirt with the restaurant logo over his heart met us at the counter. “What will you have?”
We both ordered fish and chips and a Harp ale.
I reached for my wallet.
Micah held out his hand. “I got this.” He slid a canvas wallet out from the back pocket of his board shorts, pulled out his debit card, and paid.
“Thanks.” I grabbed the beer and turned. “Where do you want to sit?”
“Anywhere is fine.”
I settled at a small table for two and sipped my beer.
Micah sat across from me.
“This beer is great.” A soft sigh slipped out of me.
He gulped his beer. “Wait till you taste the food.”
I nodded. “So, I guess you really are a good surfer.”
“Well, I’ve lived out here, in the Bay Area, my whole life. I used to surf in Santa Cruz, though, mostly.” He glanced at the counter.
“Where did you go to school?” I took another sip of beer.
“I went to UC Berkeley.”
My brows shot up. “Damn, you are really smart. Isn’t that a great school?”
“Yeah. It was hard. I won’t lie. But I graduated and got a job right out of school.” He chuckled. “It’s easy to find work out here when you code.”
“What do your parents do?” This was such a different side of him than the one I met on the beach, an easy, happy version. I studied him with renewed interest.
“My father is a cardiologist at Stanford. My mom is in real estate.” He took another swig of beer. “My mom got quite the settlement in the divorce, though. She didn’t have to work.”
“Sounds like you’re all pretty well off.” I took a drink of my beer. He had it all, a good job, smarts, damn good looks, and he was a local.
“Oh, our food is ready.” He jumped up, strode to the counter, and grabbed two red baskets lined with paper, overflowing with fish and chips. He set them down at our table and took his seat.
“What about you? How does this whole music thing work?” He took a bite of fish.
“Well, we make money when we tour, from the tickets and the merchandise. I came out here right after our tour.” I fingered the top of my beer. “Then the label is advancing the studio costs. We got a nice contract to have a song in the next Tony Hawk Pro Skater video game. And there are always residuals from streaming.”
“Residuals?” He chewed a French fry.
“Yeah, we get money when people play our songs anywhere, even in restaurants.”
“So that’s how you can afford a furnished apartment out here? It’s not cheap. I mean, the Bay Area used to be on the higher end, but you could make it work. Now it’s ridiculously expensive.” He gazed at his plate of food.
“Well, how do you afford it? Do your parents help, or are you getting a lot at Tesla?”
It was as if a black cloud rolled over him, his smile fading and his eyes growing darker. “I don’t want to talk about it.” He hung his head.
Apparently, I’d said the wrong thing again. I placed my hand over his wrist and tightened my hold. “Okay, don’t worry about it. Forget I asked.”
He gazed at me with glistening eyes. “I’m having a really great time with you. For a while, I actually forgot about...everything.” His throat bobbed with a hard swallow. “I want to talk to you. I even...” He looked away, blinking, his lips bowed down in a pout.
What the hell was he about to say? I couldn’t force it. I knew better. Squeezing his wrist, I said, “Just take it at your own pace. It’s okay. I can wait.” Not that I wanted to.
He darted his gaze to fixate on me. “Ash, I like you.”
Emotion swelled in my heart. I peered at him. Was the statement supposed to be friendly, or more? I couldn’t ask. Now was not the time. Maybe when the easy Micah returned. “I like you, too.” My gaze fell to his generous lips. What would he taste like?
His gaze drew to my mouth. He released a sigh, then pulled his arm away from my hold and shifted back in his chair. He pushed the long bangs off his forehead. “Fuck, I needed today.”
“Yeah? I’m glad you agreed to do this with me. It was fun.” I gulped down my beer, then played with my hooped earring, my beaded bracelets falling into my sleeve. “Maybe we can do this more.” Much more.
He leaned in, chewing a bite of fish. “You know, there are some really cool trails close by. Do you hike?”
“Sure, I’ve hiked a few times.” Like it mattered. I’d do anything he suggested. I stuffed a few fries in my mouth.
“There trails in the bluffs have old World War Two bunkers in them. Weather has exposed some of them. The surrounding sand wore down. It’s pretty cool to see.” He ate the last of his fish.
That explains the weird thing I saw on the Highway One coming from the airport. “Is that what the thing is sticking out of the cliffs further south, with all the graffiti?”
“Yeah, that’s one of them. There are more, mostly underground in the hills. I hiked there before you moved in.” A sly grin quirked his lips.
“That would be really cool to see. Maybe we can do that tomorrow?” At this point, I should try to spend every day I could with him. There wasn’t much time before recording started and those were long days. There wouldn’t be time then. I gulped my beer down.
“Sure. Not like we have anything else to do,” he said, his grin widening into a full-on smile.
There he was, the easy, happy Micah. The time was perfect to make more plans. “Hey, what about a fire on the beach tonight?”
“A fire?” He straightened in his seat, eyeing me.
“Yeah, we can grab beers, firewood, and have a beach bonfire by our place. It’s cold enough. Wouldn’t that be cool?” I flashed him my most convincing smile. Please say yes.
“Sure.” He finished his beer and set the empty glass down with a soft clink. “I’ve seen people having fires down there by our place. So, why not?” He gave me a thoughtful look. “We should be careful of the tide. The beach almost disappears in some spots when the tide comes in.” He pulled out his phone, swiping and tapping a few times before saying, “Looks like low tide is around six, and high tide’s at midnight. So, we should head down around dinnertime.”
I leaned closer to him, my stomach fluttering. “Maybe we can do a little picnic? Bring some dinner down there?”
He snickered, and in a sarcastic voice, said, “How romantic.”
I laughed, leaning back in my chair. “Yeah.” Exactly. If I kept things light like this, maybe, just maybe, I’d get him into my bed.
* * *
Later that night, I tugged my gray hoodie over my black graphic t-shirt and jeans, then started loading the cans of beer from a twelve-pack into a Styrofoam cooler. Ice rattled as I poured it over the cans from the container under the freezer’s ice maker. I shoved my silver and black beaded bracelets higher up my arm, the cold from the ice lingering on my skin. Just as I put the container away, there was a knock at the door. Micah . A grin spread across my face.
I jogged to the door and opened it.
He stepped inside, wrapped up in a gray hoodie and blue jeans, holding two Subway sandwiches in one hand and a bag of firewood in the other. “There’s more wood outside. I got three bags.”
“Good.” My gaze wandered over him, the striking porcelain face, those deep brown eyes, and the hint of his lean, muscular body under the layers of clothing. “So, what’s with the new colors?”
“What?” He raised an eyebrow at me.
“You’re not wearing black for once. I didn’t think you owned anything else.” I chuckled and took the sandwiches from him, tucking them into the cooler on top of the beer.
He glanced toward the living room. “I wasn’t in the mood to wear anything else before.” His gaze met mine for a brief second before darting away.
Was that what I thought it was? Was this a sign of his slow recovery from grief? I tightened my grip on his arm. “Well, it looks good on you.” Under my breath, I said, “But then everything looks good on you.”
“What?” His lips curled into a faint smile.
“Oh, nothing.” I smirked, snapping the cooler lid shut and setting it on the dinette.
“Looks like we’ll need a few trips to bring all this down to the beach.” He stepped outside, glancing toward the side of the building where he’d left the other bags of wood.
“Looks like,” I said, trailing after him.
He turned back, stepping closer to me. “Hey, how about you bring your guitar, too?” He hesitated, his brows drawing together as he glanced down and nudged the grout on the tile floor with the toe of his shoe. “I’d like to hear you play.”
Oh, really... I gave him a lopsided grin. “You do? I usually only play for money, but for you, I’ll make an exception.” And for him, I’d do almost anything.