Chapter 6
Chapter Six
FLETCHER
A week passes, but I don’t see Christine again. I thought it was fate running into her like that a second time, but it’s probably not statistically significant given the tiny population around here. It’s not that I expected her to show up at the High Dive, but after several shifts of constantly checking the door and turning my head at any flash of blond hair in my peripheral vision, I realized I’d hoped.
I shake the water out of my hair as I carry my board to shore. The sun is fully up now, but the beach is relatively empty other than our class and their parents. Despite the waves being disappointing this morning, a few other surfers linger in the water. I’m just thankful the water is warm enough to ditch the wetsuit.
“ Great first day in the water, everyone!” calls Harry, my co-instructor.
The eight kids in our camp gather round, huddled beneath towels now. The girl who had been riding on my board with me—Erin—stays close to my side as I join the circle.
“You did great out there,” I tell her as I crouch to help unclip her life vest. “I think you even could’ve managed your own board.”
She quickly shakes her head, and I smile.
“Erin, by the end of this week, you’re going to be kicking me out of your way.”
She gives me a slow smile back. She’s seven, the youngest this camp allows, and most of the other kids are at least two years older than her. Despite how shy she’s been around this group, she was not shy in that water. She wants to use me as a security blanket for the week? Fine. But she stopped needing me after that first wave.
“We’ll see you all tomorrow, same time!” calls Harry.
“Sweetie, you did so good! Did you have fun?” Erin’s mom leans down and scoops her into a hug. Erin buries her face in her mom’s neck as she nods, then peeks at me over her shoulder.
I grin at her then meet her mom’s eyes. “Think you’ve got a budding pro athlete there.”
“Thank you so much for staying with her all day,” her mom says quietly.
We usually do the first few rides with the kids as they build their confidence—not the entire class—but it’s easy to tell whether pushing a kid out of their comfort zone on the first day is going to help or hurt.
“Happy to do it. We had fun today, didn’t we?” I hold up my hand for a high-five, and she gives me that same shy smile as she smacks her little hand against mine. “See you guys tomorrow!”
They both wave as they head to the parking lot, and I linger around to answer the other parents’ questions until it’s just me and Harry left.
“You did good today, kid,” he says as he starts loading the boards into the storage trailer.
I roll my eyes. He’s the only one who can get away with calling me that. Honestly, I’m surprised he’s still teaching this camp. He started it back when I would’ve been young enough to be a student and brought me on as his assistant a few years ago. I actually have no idea how old he is. He could be fifty or seventy—he’s got that look to him where it’s impossible to tell.
“You too, old man.”
He grins. “Still better looking than you.”
“No doubt about that. Must be the real reason this class is always sold out. All the moms are here to see you.”
“See, now you’re getting it. Go on, go on.” He waves me off as I try to help with the boards. “Don’t pay you enough for that. Go get a life.”
“You sure?”
“Don’t be late tomorrow,” he grunts.
“Harry, I have never once been late.”
He glares as I heft up my board. “And you better not start now.”
The bar is absolutely dead tonight. Uncharacteristically so. After a few hours with both Anna and me behind the bar, and less than a dozen patrons, they finally make the call and cut me. Anna’s a few years younger and saving up for her next semester of school, so I don’t mind. She needs the money more.
“Lucky bastard,” Anna mutters under her breath with a smile.
“Is that your way of saying you’ll miss me?” I bat my eyelashes as I untie my apron, but freeze as the front door slides open.
And in walks a wildly out-of-place blonde.
“Anna, grab me a beer and a glass of Riesling.”
She stares at me like I’ve started speaking German.
“Please?”
She shakes her head as she turns away for a cup. “You’re going to waste your freedom and stay ?”
Christine slides onto one of the last stools tucked in the corner, one that’s mostly hidden from the front door by the bar. I don’t think she’s seen me yet.
But she’s about to.
Anna slides me the drinks and shakes her head again as she follows my gaze.
I rip the apron the rest of the way off, step around the bar, and head that way.
Christine frowns like she’s about to tell me to leave her the hell alone, but she pauses with her mouth open, her eyes softening when she takes in my face.
“Oh. Hi.”
I give her a half smile and gesture to the seat beside her. “Do you mind?”
She hesitates and chews on the inside of her cheek as she looks from me to the drinks to the stool. But then, finally, she nods.
I slide the glass to her. “Hope I didn’t get it wrong.”
A nearly invisible smile brushes her lips as she takes a sip. “You’re not making them tonight?”
I gesture around us. “No need for two of us back there, it seems. Speaking of, what the hell are you doing here?”
She shrugs. “Maybe I like it here.”
“Not even our regulars like it here.”
She laughs, but that tension in her face doesn’t relent. She takes another long drink of her wine, and her jaw works as she sets the glass on the bar.
Gone is the heavy sadness from the first time I saw her.
No, tonight she’s angry.
She keeps her hand wrapped around her glass, and that gigantic ring is nowhere to be found.
“What the hell are you still doing here if you don’t have to work?” she asks.
I hold her gaze, my smile involuntary. “Was on my way out, actually. But something caught my eye.”
She stares at me like I’m a puzzle she’s trying to solve, her eyes darting between mine then tracing over the rest of my face. She does it blatantly, completely unashamed. And I’m perfectly happy to sit here and let her if it means I get to do the same to her.
There’s just something so interesting about her eyes. Something more behind them, something I’ve never seen in anyone else. I can practically see the waves of thoughts churning beyond the surface, and I want to pluck them out one by one until I’ve untangled them all.
It’s hard to breathe when she looks at me this intensely, hard not to drift closer until my knee brushes hers.
But she doesn’t pull away.
She leans in closer too, turning on her stool until we’re facing each other and her legs fit between mine. She shifts, her leg pressing into my inner thigh, and I inhale sharply.
Her little smirk says she knows exactly what she’s doing.
I sip my beer. She sips her wine.
We say nothing at all, but neither of us breaks the eye contact.
“This bar does kind of suck,” she finally says, then tilts her glass back and finishes her wine in one gulp. “The one at my hotel is much nicer. Have you seen it?”
I shake my head.
“Would you like to?”