CRASHING INTO YOU #2
I’m back, though, because I have responsibilities.
I need to go and see Mum, and check in on a few things.
I also have an appearance at a surf store in Torquay next week; Ocean’s Curl are one of my biggest sponsors, so I need to give them what they pay for.
My face and my time. I don’t mind doing that.
I like meeting people, especially kids who love to surf.
Going home, however, is a whole different thing.
Which is why I’m here, fucking around with girls and booze, instead of being in Melbourne already like I’m supposed to be.
I have my reasons for that. Some people, if they were brave enough, might even tell me I’m running away. Not many of my friends have said that to my face, though. I guess they like keeping their noses the same shape they usually are.
But Matt is one of my closest mates, and has a way of cutting to the heart of things that I can’t fault him for.
Plus, he can throw a punch as well as I can.
We’ve known each other since we were kids, rode waves together all along the coast road.
But he followed his heart and married a local girl, whereas I followed mine into curling blue water.
I’d say we’re both pretty happy with how things turned out.
I’m staying at his place while I’m here, in the hills above Lorne.
And he doesn’t fail to remind me, every day, that I need to go home.
But I’d rather hang around here. The town has changed a lot over the years – there are lots more fancy shops and cafés than there used to be – but I love it just as much as I used to.
Plus, the pub still rocks. As I wander the main street with my two latest hook-ups in tow, my head still aching from a night of drinking and messy sex, I breathe in deep.
I’m glad to be back here, despite everything.
I’ve taken a few weeks off the circuit; it’s a quiet time of year anyway.
“A personal issue,” I told my agent. He swore at me and told me I needed to clean up my act.
“Sponsors love you, but they’re not going to for much longer if you’re constantly getting fucked up and falling out of bars with a different girl every night,” he’d said.
“Maybe taking a break from doing that for a few weeks would be a good thing.”
Yeah, right. I’m not taking a break because I need to dry out. I’m taking one because I need to sort out something I should have faced up to a long time ago. Besides, he’s right. Sponsors do love me. I’m a damn good surfer.
“Let’s go in here!” The girls, whose names escape me at the moment, grab my hands, pulling me towards a small shop.
It’s one of the newer businesses, sitting in a little white timber-clad hut, which from memory used to be a hardware store.
Now the big front window has two mannequins clad in floaty dresses, gold and silver Christmas baubles scattered across the scrubbed timber floor, tiny starry garlands pinned between the mannequins.
Gold lettering on a weathered white wooden panel above the window reads “Anna’s”.
I let the girls pull me into the shop. I suppose I could treat them.
God knows they were good to me last night.
I’m under no illusions that money is one of the main reasons they’re with me, though from all the sighing and moaning last night I think I’m a pretty good fuck as well. I suppose I’ve had plenty of practice.
As we enter the shop a girl straightens up from behind the counter.
She looks to be in her early twenties, and has long dark hair parted in the middle and falling in waves around her face.
Her skin is tanned, freckles scattered across her pert nose, her mouth a perfect pink pout.
And her eyes are blue, like the deepest part of the ocean. She’s fucking gorgeous.
She’s also frowning and holding one of her fingers, which, I notice, has a band aid around it.
The girls are already pawing through the racks.
I lean against a pillar, trying to ignore the pounding in my skull, and watch the girl behind the counter.
She comes out from behind it, and my gaze immediately goes to her small waist and curving ass covered by a pair of high-waisted dark denim shorts.
Her legs are slender and tanned and, as she bends to pick something up off the floor, I get an eyeful of lush rounded tits down the neckline of the loose silk top she’s wearing.
I shift position, my groin stirring. I’ve seen a lot of beautiful women, slept with them too, but this girl… There’s something about her that pulls at me.
And she’s fierce, too. I watch in growing amusement as she follows the girls around the shop, her frustration obvious as she cleans up after them. They are being brats, I guess. I almost laugh out loud when she shuts them down about getting a discount.
Then I decide to give her a hard time as well. Maybe it’s the hangover, or maybe it’s something else. Her blue eyes widen when I speak to her, but then she frowns when I mention the poster.
That’s interesting. Women usually fall all over me when they find out what I do. I don’t need or want a discount, but something about this girl makes me want to get a reaction out of her. But it’s not the one I expected.
When she calls me an asshole I laugh, surprise bubbling through my chest. Her cheeks are pink, her hands covering that kissable mouth, and I find myself wanting to pull them away so I can see her. She’s fucking adorable, as well as correct. We are kind of being assholes.
I watch her as she wraps whatever I’m buying, paying without even really noticing how much it is. She keeps glancing at me from under her long lashes, pink still on her delicate cheekbones. “Thank you,” she mumbles, pushing the bag towards me.
My fingers brush against hers as I take the bag, and my shorts feel tighter all of a sudden.
What the fuck is going on? I’m about to ask her out when I remember the two girls and realise what a dick move that would be.
Still, as they drag me from the shop, still giggling, I make a mental note to go back there again. Alone.
“Where to now, ladies?” I sling an arm around each of my companions’ shoulders as we continue along the street, but turn for one last glance at the shop. The girl is in the front window, pinning up more garlands, her shirt pulling tight across her as she reaches up.
Yeah. I wouldn’t mind seeing her again.