Chapter 13 FML #2
Tuesday morning came too fast. I'd barely slept, replaying Sunday night over and over. The way they'd fit together so easily.
Sean and Ren's beach house was insanely cool. Cars were already lining the driveway including a camera van that made my stomach sink.
“Ooh, this place is amazing,” Tempest said as Sean led us to the drinks bar, manned by someone making bespoke fresh squeezed juices. “Are you guys movie producers or something?”
“Oh, no, I'm a librarian for LAPL.” Sean shook his head and smiled like he had an inside joke.
But Ren came up and gave Sean a kiss on the shoulder. “Which is why we have an excellent home library.”
Sean grinned and gave me a wink. “This is actually Ren's place, and he is not a librarian.”
“Babe, this is our place and has been since you moved in.” That was all he said. Nothing about what he did to have the money to own a beach house like this. Hmm. I'd been around enough celebrities in sports to know when someone didn't want to be recognized for their fame.
Our hosts left us to get our drinks, all non-alcoholic and weirdly healthy, while they moved around the group with the kind of easy efficiency that came from years of hosting things together.
Sean dinged the side of a glass to get everyone's attention. “Drink and hydrate yourselves friends, because we are headed down to the beach for the fun activity of the day, after which brunch will be served. And if you need to change into your swimsuits, there are cabanas right down there.”
Sean pointed toward the beach, where there were indeed some striped cabanas, but there was also a row of surfboards and something I absolutely did not expect to see.
Goats. Surfing goats.
Artie squealed and sprinted down the stairs, followed closely behind by the rest of the girls.
“Oh god. Why do I have a feeling I'm going to end up with a pet goat by the end of the day?”
The rest of us got down to the beach and damn if Tyson wasn't already by Artie's side.
“This is the most California thing I've ever seen,” Artie said, immediately crouching down to pet a brown and white spotted goat wearing what appeared to be a custom wetsuit. “I can't wait to tell everyone back home that I went goat surfing.”
“How did you find out about this?” Tempest asked, watching as Flynn attempted to introduce himself to a black goat who seemed more interested in investigating his flip-flops.
“Sean has connections everywhere,” Ren said. “He's like the social coordinator you never knew you needed.”
The camera crew was set up right at the water. Ren gave them a glare, but Sloane mouthed 'public beach' and shrugged. “This is great, guys. We'll just be over here capturing this authentic LA lifestyle content.”
“Welcome, everyone, to Floats With Goats,” the volunteer explained with a grin. “Why have a cow when you can float with a goat?”
“Of course,” Tempest said. “This place is amazing. Do you rescue all kinds of animals?”
“We do. Goats, pigs, chickens, horses, even donkeys. We've got about two hundred animals here. The surfing program is our main fundraiser and outreach. People come for the novelty, but they leave understanding how incredible these animals are.”
“Ooh, I can't wait to get Burrito Petito out on the water. This gives me an idea for a meet-cute,” Tempest said and whipped out her phone and rapidly typed.
Artie was drawn to a bulletin board set up at the cabana. The board was covered with photos and information about animals available for adoption.
“Gryffen,” Artie called out from over by the adoption board. “Come look. This is clearly fate.”
I walked over to find her staring at photos of baby goats, chubby little piglets, and a rooster that was far too reminiscent of Luke Skycocker.
“Look at these faces,” she said, pointing to a photo of two particularly adorable baby goats that were brother and sister. “How does anyone resist adopting them all?”
“Easily,” I said, but I was studying the photos too. “We live in a house, not a farm.”
“A house with a big backyard,” she pointed out.
“Not big enough.”
“Oh my god, Gryff.” Her voice was the most adorable whine and pointed to one of the photos “This little guy only has one ear. He needs us. We are meant to adopt him.”
“We are not adopting a goat.” There was no way I was getting out of adopting a goat.
“Yet,” she said with a grin that made my heart bust out its best dance moves.
Before I could argue further, Tyson appeared beside us. “Checking out the adoption board?”
“Yeah, that's Artie. She would adopt a feral raccoon and its squirrel army if I'd let her.” I forced myself to sound casual. “She's got a weakness for animals that need homes.”
Tyson made a weird bleating sound that I think was supposed to be a goat. I was definitely making fun of him for that later. But then he says in that weird goat voice, “I need a home.”
They were laughing together, easy and natural, while I stood there looking at photos of baby goats pretending not to think about how she'd said we were “meant to adopt them” like we were a couple making decisions together.
“Alright, everyone,” one of the surf instructors called out. “Let's get you on some boards. We'll start with some basic instruction on the beach before we get the goats involved.”
What followed was an hour of the most surreal experience of my life. We started with basic surfing instruction on the sand, which was challenging enough. But then the instructors brought out the goats.
“Meet your surf partners,” the head instructor announced as goats in custom life vests and harnesses were led over to our group. “These guys have been doing this for years, so just follow their lead.”
What should have been a disaster was actually incredible. The goats seemed to understand surfing in a way that defied all logic. They balanced perfectly, knew how to turn the boards, and appeared to genuinely enjoy riding waves.
“This is insane,” Artie called out as MoonGoattie guided their board toward shore. “My goat is better at this than I am.”
Through it all, I watched her instead of focusing on my own goat. The way Artie laughed, the obvious joy on her face as she experienced something completely ridiculous and wonderful.
And I wasn't the only one watching. Tyson kept finding excuses to surf near her, offering tips and encouragement.
After an hour of goat-assisted surfing, we gathered on the beach while the animals were toweled off and given treats. Sean and Ren had drinks and sandwiches brought down, and the group settled into the kind of lazy conversation that happened after sun and saltwater and shared absurdity.
“So, Artie,” Tyson said, settling on the sand next to her while one of the goats munched on a special goat treat. “What's your favorite thing about LA so far?”
“Besides the goat surfing?” She scratched behind the goat's ears. “Probably the fact that I can do things like goat surfing. I mean, where else in the world is this just a normal Saturday activity?”
Flynn grabbed my arm and steered me away from the group. “WTF, man?” he said quietly.
“What are you flipping out about?”
“About the fact that you're in love with Artie and you're sitting here like a sad puppy who lost his last brain cell watching her with Tyson.”
I nearly choked on my water and looked around to make sure the cameras weren’t on us. “What?”
“Don't what me. I'm your twin. I know you better than anyone, and you've been pining over her since you moved in together and now she's letting another guy make goo-goo eyes at her, and you aren't doing shit.”
Before I could respond, Tempest appeared at Flynn's elbow with a look that meant I was about to get a lecture.
“Please tell me you're talking sense into him,” she said.
“I'm trying, but he's a stubborn ass.”
“Of course he is. They always are in these situations.” Tempest fixed me with the kind of stare that probably helped her write believable relationship conflicts. “Gryff, carino, you're being an idiot.”
“Thanks, but that's super not helpful.”
“I'm serious.” Flynn poked me right in the heart. “And before you give me some speech about not wanting to ruin your friendship, let me point out that you're already ruining it by pretending you don't have feelings for her.”
Before I could defend myself, I heard Artie laugh at something Tyson had said. The sound made me look over automatically, just in time to see him lean closer to her.
“Artie,” Tyson was saying, “I know this might be fast, but want to get coffee sometime? Maybe explore some more of LA together?”
My stomach dropped to my flip-flops and buried itself in the sand.
“Oh… uh, yeah, I'd love that,” Artie said with a smile. “I've been meaning to find a good coffee shop in the neighborhood.”
“Perfect. How about tomorrow afternoon?” Tyson was grinning and I wanted to slap it off his face. “I found a place in Venice Beach that has great coffee and an amazing view.”
“It's a date.”
“You okay?” Flynn asked quietly.
“I'm fine.”
“You're not fine.”
“I'm fine enough.”
He followed my gaze to where Tyson was making her laugh. “You could tell her.”
“Tell her what? That I'm in love with her? That I think about her every second? That watching her with him makes me want to punch something?” I shook my head. “She's happy. That's what matters.”
“You matter too, dumbass.”
I might be dumb, and I was definitely an ass because I was not going to just stand by and watch the love of my life fall for another guy.