Eden
eden
. . .
M y dad and uncles write about love at first sight, falling in love, or reconnecting with someone from your past. And my mum, she’s a die-hard romance reader and watcher. If she doesn’t have a book in her hand, reading about some long-lost love, she’s binging some new romance show on one of the channels. In fact, every room in our house has boxes of tissues at the ready because my mum is sure to cry at the drop of a hat.
I finally know what they mean when a guy walks into the restaurant with messy hair and red cheeks from being outside. His snow pants and jacket are white, but his gloves are red, and I heard avid skiers do this in case of an avalanche or they go off trail. The brighter colors are easier to find, so the fact that his suit is white—just like snow—doesn’t make sense. I watch him and his friend meander the tables and rejoice when they’re shown to the one next to us.
Despite Paige gabbing away in my ear, I’m fixated on this boy. Or do I refer to him as a man? Part of me hopes he’s my age because if he’s much older, my father will have a heart attack. Although, it’s funny to watch Jimmy Davis squirm. He’s having a hard time coming to terms with the fact that I’m no longer a child, even though I’ll always be his Little One. He thinks I should stay twelve or thirteen or that boys should know better than to talk to me. My dad lost his ever-loving mind when I showed interest in . . . what was his name ? For the life of me, I can’t remember, but he was ten years older and promised to show me the way of the world. Thankfully, I know my worth and told him to take a hike. Of course, the distance between here and Australia probably played a part in us going our separate ways.
The hostess blocks my line of sight for a moment. I lean over to look past her, unable to take my eyes off the guy who has all my attention. Our food comes, and I barely mutter a thank you as our waiter puts the plate down in front of me.
“Get a grip,” Paige nags. “It’s like you’ve never been out in public before.”
“He looks familiar,” I tell her quietly.
“He looks like Quinn, which is why you’re so fascinated with him,” she retorts. Paige is right. If Quinn wasn’t part of my family, I’d have eyes for him. I guess I sort of do and hate Nola for being in his life. Ever since he started dating her, Quinn has spent less time with me. I know nothing will ever happen with us, but he’s still my crush.
Paige jabs her elbow into my side and snickers. “They’re staring, and one of them has their phone out. Do you think they know who we are?”
Who we are? Paige wants to be famous, and I suppose, according to Page 6, she is. They’ve dubbed her the Rockstar Princess, and anytime she’s away from home, she seems to make the papers. I know my Aunt Josie hates it, but Paige loves every second of it. She reads all the comments on her Instagram and eats up the attention, but unless you’re a die-hard Betty Paige follower, no one knows who she is, and deep down, I think she hates that.
“No, I don’t think so. It’s not like we wear shirts saying who we are or who our parents are.”
Mack coughs. “You do.”
I roll my eyes. “Obviously, when I’m surfing, but I’m not now. It’s not like I have a beacon on my jacket saying ‘I’m Eden Davis’.”
“Surfer Girl,” he corrects. I hate that nickname and wish it never stuck. It’s Quinn’s fault. He started calling me this when I was younger, and it somehow made it to the media. Now everyone refers to me as Surfer Girl.
The cutie from the other table looks up, and our eyes meet. “Wow. I finally get it.”
“Get what?” Paige asks.
“What my mum says about how she feels when my dad is around.”
“You don’t even know this guy,” Mack points out. “He could be a stalker.”
I glance at Mack and frown. “He’s not Ted Bundy or Jack the Ripper.”
“No, especially since they’re dead. But he could be someone.”
I roll my eyes at him. “You just don’t believe in love at first sight.” Truthfully, neither did I until this guy walked in.
“Yes, he does,” Paige says. Without looking at her or Mack, I know they’re holding hands. This is the only time they can be themselves and not have adults standing between them. I’m seventeen, and my favorite hobby is eavesdropping on adult conversations. I know for a fact that my aunt is concerned Paige and Mack are going to take things too far, and they’re going to become teenage parents. I talk to Paige about the birds and the bees and tell her she can talk to me anytime. She also has Peyton and Elle, although the answer might vary depending on who she goes to. Peyton is Paige’s sister-in-law and would likely tell her to abstain from sexual contact.
In contrast, Elle gives it to you straight. No sugar coating. None of this you-have-to-wait-until-you’re-married crap. When I went to Elle, she handed me a banana and a condom and taught me how to put it on, and said, “If he can’t, you do it for him, or you leave.” She also talked about being in love and all that, but has the no-fucks vibe when it comes to societal rules. What really gets me is that my Uncle Liam has welcomed Mack into his home because he has some family shit going on. I guess he’s not that worried.
“You should stop staring,” Paige whispers. “You look wicked creepy.”
She’s right. I try eating, but now I’m self-conscious and afraid I’m going to drip ketchup on my shirt or leave ranch dip on the corner of my mouth. He won’t stop looking at me. Even when he has the menu covering his face, I can see his eyes peering out over the top. I suppose if I stop looking, he will too, but he doesn’t, and neither can I.
I cut into my burger, using my knife and fork. Mack laughs because he doesn’t get it. He doesn’t know what it’s like to live with my dad, who abhors eating with his fingers.
“They’re going to think you’re from another planet.”
“Technically, I am.”
“You’re being a bit dramatic,” Paige says. “You’re from the United States, and you have dual citizenship. England isn’t a planet. It’s a country.”
“I’m aware.” Sometimes the age difference between us is clear, like now. I’m not some twit who doesn’t know the difference between a country and a planet, but Paige sometimes doesn’t understand sarcasm or humor, and it shows.
I continue to eat but do so without taking my eyes off the guy across from me. He’s going to think I’m the stalker or have a staring problem. I supposed if he were to ask me what my problem is, I could lie and tell him it’s a rare disease with no real name yet. Plausible, if he’s gullible.
“Is this how you flirt?” Paige asks.
“I don’t know. Is it? Is there a proper way to flirt?” Am I doing it wrong? Am I not sending the subliminal messages through my pheromones?
“You should give him your number,” Mack says. “We’re here until after Christmas, might as well hang out with people our age.” I think Mack wants me to find someone, so I’m not the third wheel when it comes to him and Paige. Given a chance, they’ll go off into the woods and do precisely what their parents are afraid of.
At the other table, the guy shows the cutie something on his phone. They’re talking in hushed tones, and I’m unable to make out what they’re saying. Of course, if everyone in the restaurant could stop talking, I’d appreciate it. I want to hear what he’s saying to his friend.
“You should post a video or a picture and tag Stowe,” Mack suggests.
“Why?”
“Because I’m pretty sure that his buddy is scrolling, and it might pop up for him.”
I like Mack’s idea and do as he suggests. My stomach growls as I load an image of me on my snowboard and type out, “ Frozen water has nothing on this girl .” Once it’s posted, I go back to eating, knowing I’ll need something in my stomach if we plan to get a few more runs in. I’m thankful snowboarding has come easily to me. It would be rather embarrassing to still be on the bunny hill, learning.
We finish eating, and when the bill comes, I ask the waiter for a piece of scratch paper.
“What are you doing?” Paige asks.
“I’m going to give him my number—Mack’s right. We’re here until after Christmas, and maybe he wants to hang out. Hell, maybe his mom is the biggest 4225 West fan, and he wants to bring her to our lodge to have a dance party or something.”
Paige laughs so hard she snorts. “Can you imagine? Oh gosh, the drama. I sort of hope it happens.”
She’s right. The women would throw a fit. They’re all nice on the outside but get near their men, and the claws come out. My mum is quiet, reserved. Touch my dad, and suddenly my mum has fangs and nails that are pointy daggers.
I write my name and number on the paper and fold it. After I have my coat on, I take a step toward the table where the cutie sits, watching me. I expect Mack and Paige to walk on the other side, but they’re right behind me in solidarity. I love my family.
I set the paper on the table as I pass by, but he doesn’t see it because he’s watching me. I try not to panic, but my heart races ten times faster than normal. I don’t want to turn around and pick it back up, but I’m tempted.
When we get outside, I walk as fast as I can away from the door. I bend and place my hands on my knees. “I can’t believe I did that, and he didn’t even see it.”
“What do you mean?” Mack asks.
“He watched me the whole time, never looked at my hand or anything.”
“His friend saw,” Mack tells me. “I’m sure he will tell him.”
“Okay, that’s good, right? Holy crap, I can’t believe I did that.”
Paige puts her hand on the side of my shoulder. “Calm down. You’ll give yourself a panic attack.”
She’s right. I nod and take a couple of steps toward our equipment when I spot the cutie’s friend coming out of the restaurant. “Holy crap on a cracker.” In an instant, Paige and Mack are next to me, and Mack’s leading the conversation telling this guy who we are, and introductions are made. I want to ask him about his friend, but I don’t have the courage to do so.
“I told my friend in there who you are. That video of the shark behind you is freaking awesome. Were you scared?”
I laugh and shake my head. “Not until someone showed me the video. I honestly had no idea he was there. Then, I freaked out. It’s weird because I’m never worried, but at that moment, it’s like my life flashed before my eyes.”
“Her mother tried to make her stop surfing,” Paige tells Boomer.
“No way, you can’t quit. You’re Surfer Girl.”
I want to roll my eyes, but I refrain. I don’t want Boomer to think I’m a snob. “Surfing’s in my blood,” I tell him. “I’ll never quit.”
“My buddy and I were just saying how surfing needs to be an Olympic sport.”
“It is an Olympic sport,” Mack points out.
Boomer’s face deadpans. “It is?”
I nod. “It was new this year.”
“Well shit,” he says as he runs his hand over his beanie. “Damn, I’m sorry. I think I was probably training all summer and forgot to pay attention. Did you compete?”
I shake my head. “No, I’m not sure I’m interested. Some people think surfing is a hobby and should be treated as such. I’m not sure where the classification between hobby and sport falls, but people have strong opinions about it, and some feel surfing is boring.”
“Those people have never had a shark chase them,” Boomer says.
“There is that.” I glance toward the door and find his friend walking toward us. Boomer didn’t give us his name, which almost had me asking, but I held off. Our eyes meet, and I can’t fight the grin spreading across my face.
“Hey, man,” Boomer says as he puts his arm around the cutie. “This is Rush Fennimore, and this is Eden Davis, Paige Westbury, and Mack Ashton.”
Rush Fennimore .
Eden Fennimore.
I clear my head and watch as he shakes Mack’s hand and then Paige’s. When he reaches for mine, I give it to him eagerly. Our gazes meet, and his caramel brown eyes instantly transfix me.
“Hi,” I say in a sickly-sweet voice. “I’m Eden.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he says. “I’m Rush.”
Rush . That’s what I feel when he holds my hand, a rush of . . . everything. Everything my dad and uncles have put into a song, or my mum has said about one of her favorite books—the rush of emotion, ecstasy, and longing. For the first time in my life, I long to touch someone in ways I’ve only read about or seen on television.