Between the Boards (Saltwater Springs #4)

Chapter 1

ONE

KAIRI

“How did I know I’d find you hiding all the way out here?” A deep voice cuts through the quiet from behind my book.

I lower it just enough to peek over the top, finding Colton Harrison standing in front of me, arms folded across his chest. I roll my eyes and raise my book again until he disappears from view.

“You hiked all the way out here just to bother me?” I mutter, skimming the page as I try to find where I left off. “And I’m not hiding.”

“You are,” he says matter-of-factly, walking over and dropping down beside me, close enough that our shoulders almost touch. “And I think we both know why.”

I close my eyes, annoyance prickling under my skin.

I trekked all the way out to The Cove so I could have a moment alone to finish this book and upload my review to my Bookstagram page in peace, because ever since Zale returned from Italy, he hasn’t shut up about all the girls he dated while he was there.

I know it shouldn’t bother me—considering we were never anything more than friends turned fuck buddies—but…it does.

Enough for me to run away to this mostly abandoned part of town to get away from it all.

“Okay, smarty pants,” I say, finally giving up on my book and tossing it onto my towel before glancing at him. “Maybe I am hiding, but what’s your reason for coming all the way out here?”

He pauses, holding my gaze, before clearing his throat and looking away. “I guess maybe I’m hiding too.”

I snort. “From what?”

He shrugs, staring out at the waves rolling toward the shore. “It’s been a year since I came back to the team, and Gabriel still has me playing the role of a substitute.”

“But you knew that would happen when you asked him if you could come back,” I point out, brow arching.

“No, I know,” he says quickly, running a hand through his dirty-blond hair before letting out a long sigh. “I just didn’t think it would take this long for me to earn back my spot. Especially now that we have new members. I thought I’d at least get a permanent place on the team alongside them.”

I nod because if the roles were reversed, it would bother me too.

Colton joined The Shredders years ago, when the original youth team was formed.

He left his family and his life behind in Bluewater Bluffs and joined our little family.

So yeah, I do think he deserves a permanent spot on this team, but I can also understand why it hurt everyone so badly when he left the team two years ago to surf with the Rip Raiders, our biggest competitors.

“Anyway,” he says, turning toward me again. “Enough about me. Have you heard Zale’s latest update?”

I groan and flop back onto my towel, closing my eyes against the bright sun.

“What now?”

“Apparently a friend he made in Italy is coming to spend the summer at the house.” Colton pauses. “A female friend named Alessia.”

My throat tightens around the bomb he just dropped and I don’t have to look at Colton to know he’s watching me closely.

Don’t you dare cry right now, Kairi! I shout in my head.

“How does that make you feel?” Colton asks carefully, nudging his knee against my thigh.

“Why would that make me feel anything?” I ask defensively, nudging him back.

“Oh, come on, Kai,” he says quietly. “I know that for some unexplainable reason, you have feelings for him. You don’t need to pretend with me.”

“I don’t,” I lie, sitting up and meeting his skeptical gaze. “And even if I did, it wouldn’t matter. Zale will never see me as anything more than his friend. I’m not like them.”

He tilts his head. “Like who?”

“Like those other girls he falls for. The petite, long haired, doe-eyed, confident-because-they-know-they’re-hot girls.”

Colton goes quiet, and for a second I’m sure he’s going to laugh at how ridiculous I sound, but when he doesn’t, I feel guilty for even thinking he would—Colton isn’t that kind of person.

“Kai,” he says, his eyes locked onto mine with a serious and intense expression. “You don’t need to look like anyone else. If who you are isn’t good enough for Zale—or any guy—then they’re not the person for you.”

My heart skips the same way it always does when he says things like that, and I ignore it the same way I always do. I’m a romantic at heart, and even the tiniest bit of flattery from someone can make my heart race, but it’s meaningless.

“That’s rich coming from one of the nicest guys I know,” I mutter, narrowing my eyes, “who also happens to look like the poster boy for all of surf culture. You could get any girl you want without a second thought.”

Colton has the perfect summer tan, dirty-blond waves, and the brightest blue eyes I’ve ever seen—like staring straight into the summer sky. Not to mention, he’s got a shiny set of abs to go along with his whole surfer-boy look.

This time he laughs, but it’s softer—almost flattered.

“Not any girl,” he mumbles before clearing his throat and looking at me again. “Why do you think you’re not poster girl material?”

“Are you kidding me?” I scoff. “Just look at me.”

“I am,” he says in a low voice, his eyes dragging slowly over my face, and something sharp settles at the base of my spine.

“Then you’d see that I don’t look anything like the typical female surfers that are on all the posters. I’m tall, my hair is wildly curly, and I’m…”

“You’re what?” he asks when I trail off.

I shrug. “I’m coloured.”

My mom is a tall, beautiful woman from Sweden with pin-straight blonde hair, pale skin, and the greenest eyes. My dad, a six-foot surfer from Cape Town, South Africa, has dark twists, dark skin, a clean shaved beard and mustache, and the most intimidating resting face known to man.

And while I love them both more than anything, they don’t quite understand what it’s like to be biracial.

To feel like I don’t belong to the White community or the Black community.

Like I’m floating somewhere in between—this grey space where I’m never quite sure where I fit in, or who I’m supposed to be.

Colton’s brows furrow as he studies my face. “You think because of your skin colour you’re not poster girl material?”

I hesitate, searching for the right words. “I guess it’s just…you don’t really see many people—especially women—who look like me in this sport, and definitely not on many posters.”

“You belong here,” Colton says firmly. “And anyone who can’t see that is an idiot.”

When I don’t reply, he continues. “It doesn’t matter what shade your skin is, Kairi. I bet there are hundreds of thousands of kids out there that look up to you because you look like them. You’re paving the way.”

“Yeah,” I mumble. “Maybe.”

“No, not maybe.” He almost sounds offended. “You are.”

I pick at the chipped pink nail polish on my big toe, avoiding his eyes.

I know Colton means well, and maybe what he’s saying is true, but it doesn’t make the feeling go away.

If it weren’t for Gabriel, I wouldn’t be landing the sponsorships that I do.

Hell, I don’t even land a quarter of what Maliah used to when she was still surfing.

Plus, it’s deeper than just representation on posters.

It’s the products too. Like salt spray that isn’t made for curly hair, leaving my hair dry and frizzy; after-surf detanglers that assume you can just scrunch your hair and walk away; thick white zinc that leaves my skin looking ashy instead of protected.

Surf culture loves the idea that girls can paddle in, rinse off, and look effortlessly perfect—beachy waves, glowing skin, sun-bleached highlights…but my version involves deep conditioning and a full hour of detangling.

“Anyway,” I say, deciding to move on from this topic. “Like I said…Zale will never see me as anything more than a friend.”

Colton watches the waves for a long time before speaking again. “Do you really want to be with him that badly?”

“I don’t know,” I admit. “Maybe I just want to be with someone who chases me for once…instead of me always being the one doing the chasing.”

He fiddles with the bracelet around his wrist before he exhales slowly. “How about I coach you then?”

I turn toward him, brow lifting. “Coach me?”

He nods. “I’ll show you how to get him, and other guys, to chase after you if that’s what you really want.”

I frown. “But you hate Zale.”

“I don’t hate him,” he says, folding his arms behind his head and leaning back into the sand. “I just don’t particularly like him.”

I scoff. “And what do you get out of it?”

“Helping you helps me get out of that house,” he says, “and it gives me something to focus on besides my endless free time of not surfing.”

I stare at him, suspicious, but he just flashes me a boyish grin.

“You know you want to,” he sing-songs. “Isn’t the book you’re reading now all about the love coach trope?”

I glance down to the paperback beside me. “How do you know that?” I ask. “And how do you even know what a trope is?”

He looks stunned for half a second before quickly recovering and clearing his throat.

“That doesn’t matter,” he says quickly. “What matters is your answer. Do you want me to coach you or not?”

“W-well…” I stutter, my cheeks growing warm. “Wouldn’t that involve…practice dates and stuff?”

He closes his eyes, but the corner of his mouth curves up. “Mmm-hmm.”

“Saltwater Springs is a small town, Colton. How am I supposed to explain that without humiliating myself to every single person here—including Zale?”

“You’re single,” he says simply. “Dating is normal. We’ll just make sure you never see the same guy twice.”

“Right,” I say slowly, thinking it over.

“So?” he presses. “You in?”

His blue eyes lock onto mine, and my heart starts that loud and traitorous thumping again.

“Wait,” I say, squeezing my eyes shut for a moment. “This won’t be weird, right? You coaching me?”

Colton props himself up on his elbows, frowning. “Why would it be?”

“Well...” I hesitate. “You and I have…done stuff before.”

“We’ve had sex,” He says bluntly, brow lifting. “Yes. I’m aware.”

“I just want to make sure there aren’t any unshared feelings or anything on your end.”

He holds my gaze for a moment before cracking a half smile. “I know that night was just a heat-of-the-moment thing, Kai. You made that pretty clear from the beginning, and I never expected more.”

Relief washes through me instantly because the last thing I want is to hurt Colton by accident. He’s had a hard enough time returning to the team, even though he acts unfazed in front of everyone else.

“In fact,” he continues. “We don’t even have to count it.”

I frown. “What do you mean?”

“You were drunk, and I basically had a concussion.” He shrugs. “Neither of us were in the right state of mind, so it doesn’t really count.”

I scoff, and hold his gaze. It should count though, shouldn’t it? I mean, it counted for me, regardless of being intoxicated. But to know Colton doesn’t feel the same…hurts a bit.

“Alright,” I say, holding out my hand. “I’m in.”

His grin widens as he takes my hand—warm, rough fingers closing around mine—and gives it a gentle shake.

“This is going to be fun,” he says, but when he doesn’t let go right away, fireworks spark up my arm.

It’s just attraction, I tell myself. I think Colton is hot but that doesn’t mean anything beyond that.

“So much fun,” I mumble, staring down at our hands.