Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
Claire
The morning is cool and sunny, with a promise of heat later. A perfect early summer day. I open the window of Bryce’s station wagon, breathing in the salty air. Wind whips through my hair, nerves tying a knot in my stomach.
“You ready for this?”
Bryce, dressed in an Ocean’s Curl T-shirt and boardshorts, his tanned muscular legs bare, steers us around the curves and undulations of the Great Ocean Road. We’re heading towards Torquay, where he has an appearance and we’re going to make our official couple “debut”.
We’re completely social media official now, of course.
More photos of us at the nightclub have made the rounds, as well as one of us leaving the hotel the next morning.
It was a long night, to be honest. And I might have spent a bit of time touching myself, alone in my bed in the suite, imagining that lush mouth of his all over my body.
The speed at which everything has happened since I agreed to be his “girlfriend” has astounded me.
I still can’t believe I said yes. I know why I did, though.
And I’m kind of mad at myself about it. I know what he’s like, or at least how he appears to be.
A guy who dates a different girl every weekend.
A player. Definitely not the boyfriend type.
I know this, yet I want it to be real. The Bryce in the photographs online is at odds with the kind, protective man I’ve seen over the past week.
He didn’t have to step in at the pub to protect me from Simon – it was none of his business – but I’m so glad he did.
And now he’s offering me another layer of protection, at least for a little while.
Not that I’m completely unprotected. I told Bryce about what happened to my parents and how they provided for me, making sure the house on the coast was in my name, as well as their property in Melbourne.
But what I didn’t mention was the generous trust fund set up in my name, more than enough to cover my living expenses for as long as I need it.
At the time it was a surprise, to be honest. We weren’t a wealthy family.
My father inherited the property on the coast from his uncle and rebuilt it in stages.
So to find out there was a large amount of money set aside for me was a shock.
The estate lawyer hadn’t been able to tell me much more about it either and, in the state I was in, I didn’t have the energy to push it.
I just made a vow, instead, to live my life.
I chose to move to the coast not just because my parents loved it here, but also because I do.
Maybe it’s morbid to live so close to the place where they lost their lives, but I don’t think of it like that.
I’m living somewhere they loved, somewhere they thought was special and worth preserving, a place where they hoped to get old.
There’s healing, too, in the sea, in the endless push and surge of it, the way it constantly changes yet remains the same.
When Bryce said that surfing took care of any worries he might have, I understood what he meant.
I was ridiculously glad to see him when he showed up at my house this morning, as though we’d been apart for a month rather than just a couple of days.
Bryce picked me up early, saying we could get breakfast first and talk about how to play things.
His agent, apparently, will meet us at the event, and there are going to be photographers waiting to get some “candid” photos of us arriving.
I got up early, unable to sleep, and spent the time trying to decide what to wear, reminding myself over and over again that this is a professional relationship, that I had a role to play.
The fact that the role involves kissing someone I’m increasingly attracted to is something I’m just going to have to deal with.
But it’s hard to remember this isn’t real when we’re in his car on our way to Torquay, sitting side by side, music on the stereo, Bryce glancing at me with a smile as though we’re a real couple.
The road turns inland, past the house where Mad Max lived in the original version of the film.
I realise I haven’t answered Bryce’s question, lost in thought.
“I’m ready,” I say. “But only because I have no idea what I’m getting myself into. I’ve never done anything like this before.”
“What? Been at a promo event, or pretended to be someone’s girlfriend at one?”
“Both.” I laugh, but can’t deny I’m nervous. I feel as though I’m out of my depth again, waves looming over me. At least Bryce is in this with me, like he was in the water. I just hope he doesn’t let go.
“Hey.” He reaches over to pat my leg. “You’ll be fine. It’ll be like at the nightclub the other night. Hanging out, a few photos. Just be your natural self … and try to pretend you like me.” He grins, winking at me.
It won’t be hard to pretend. My leg is tingling where he touched me.
I’m wearing a short white crochet dress by Ocean’s Curl, my legs bare, tan leather sandals on my feet.
I thought I’d better try and represent the label; thank god I have some pieces I bought from Anna’s.
Bryce didn’t say anything when I opened the door, but he pursed his lips in a soundless whistle, looking me up and down. I think he approved.
I want him to approve, I realise. But I also need to remember that this isn’t real.
If I can.
Bryce pulls off the road into a small collection of shops, a gravel car park out the front. Short Arm Café, at the end of the row, is a local institution.
“Ready for a bite?”
I am hungry, actually. I didn’t eat anything when I got up, too nervous about the day. But now, something about being in the car with Bryce is relaxing me, whether it’s the ocean or the landscape or just him I’m not sure. But I’m starving.
“Yes. Short Arm?”
“Of course,” he says. “Let’s go.”
He waits for me to get out of the car, taking my hand as though it’s the most natural thing in the world.
Short Arm is busy, as it usually is most mornings, people getting coffee and breakfast rolls to go, or seated at the tables.
Bryce and I join the queue alongside the food display cases, still holding hands.
I try to focus on the menu, even though I know what I’m going to have.
“Hey, man.”
Bryce lets go of my hand. I turn to see a guy I vaguely recognise. He’s wearing paint-spattered shorts and a surf T-shirt, his brown hair still tousled with sleep. He has a hand out to Bryce who takes it, shaking it. “G-day, mate.”
“Listen, my kid is a massive fan. Can I take a photo?” Paint-spatters holds up his phone.
“Of course.” Bryce leans in next to the guy, smiling, a thumbs up to the camera.
“Legend,” the guy says. “Thanks mate, he’ll love it.”
“Anytime.” Bryce claps the guy on the shoulder.
He leaves, coffee in hand. Bryce returns to my side.
A few people are looking at us, but everyone seems pretty cool.
Another thing I like about living here. Being so close to Bells Beach and on such a famous surf coast, well-known faces tend to pop up from time to time.
We try to take it in our stride. I’ve served a few movie stars and soap actresses at Anna’s, some nice, some not-so-nice.
It’s all par for the course in this part of the world.
We reach the till and Bryce smiles down at me, sliding his arm around my waist. I suppose it’s all for show, but it doesn’t stop my heart from skipping a beat.
“What do you want?”
You, I want to say. I want you. But instead, I place my order.
A month of this? We’re only a week in and I’m already wondering how I’ll make it through.
Bryce
I want Claire.
I know, I know. I tried to tell myself I’m protecting her, that I’m doing her a favour, blah fucking blah.
But the fact is, I want her. This is utterly selfish of me.
I don’t know how I’m going to get through the month without trying to fuck her.
When she comes to the door, all long tanned limbs, her slender curves encased in white crochet, I barely know what to do with myself. She is stunning.
I can’t wait to spend the day with her. We didn’t need to have breakfast together, but it just felt like another opportunity to spend time with her.
She sits opposite me now, licking her rosebud lips, sipping her coffee, and I’m getting hard just looking at her.
I can’t just bulldoze my way into this, though.
Something about her makes me want to take my time.
Besides, I don’t even know if she’s interested in me like that.
It felt good to stick it to that weed of an ex-boyfriend, though.
And sitting on that couch with her at the nightclub, kissing her, touching her smooth skin…
I can’t stop thinking about it. I know we’re all over social media, that it’s officially out there.
Bryce Maylands, bachelor party-boy, has a girlfriend.
I don’t even want to look at the comments. Instead, I focus on Claire.
“Okay, so, this appearance today… I have a few things to do. Just stick close to me, all right?”
“Sure,” she says, those deep-ocean eyes on me. “Do I need to do anything else?”
Kiss me. As often as possible. Let me slide my hand under that skirt and feel how wet you are.
I need to put this out of my mind. Our arrangement is for appearances, not my own desires.
“So, the first thing is, there will be some paps taking photos when we get there. Just ignore them, okay?”
She nods.
“I’m in the store for an hour, then we can go in the office. They might take a few shots of me there, if there’s new stock in; I’m not sure what Jeff has arranged. And they’ll give us lunch.”
“Okay.” Her expression gives nothing away.
“Later in the afternoon, another hour in the store. Then we can get the fuck out of there.”
She smiles, then. “Sounds good. So I just need to … play the girlfriend role, yeah?”
“Yeah. Just do whatever feels natural. I don’t mind. You okay if I do the same?”
“Yes.” Her throat moves and she glances away, then takes another sip of coffee.
“Shall we get going, then? We need to be there soon.”
We’ve both finished our meals. Claire had eggs and avocado on toast. I did the same, but with bacon. I like that she has an appetite, not that it matters either way.
A short while later we’re back in the car, heading towards Torquay.
It’s about a half hour drive, passing Bells Beach, home of the longest-running competition on the World Surf League tour.
I glance at the waves as we pass, but can’t stop.
Jeff has lined up all this shit for me today, and I can’t be late.
Plus, I want to show Claire off to the world again.
Fuck ’em if they don’t like it. I have a girlfriend. Even if it is just for appearances.
When we arrive at the Torquay surf shopping complex, it’s already busy.
News of my appearance has spread, I suppose, despite the short notice, shared across social media.
Plus, the place is already bustling. Known as the home of Australian surfing, named for the original town in the UK, Torquay is the birthplace of huge surf brands, as well as the starting point of the Great Ocean Road.
Ocean’s Curl has an office and a massive store there.
Myles Brandon, the founder of Ocean’s Curl, started his brand in Torquay in the UK, so I guess he liked the continuity of having an office here in Australia as well.
I’ve met him a few times; he’s a pretty cool guy, involved in a number of huge initiatives, but always finding time to catch a wave or hang out with surfers.
It was nice to hear he’d met someone and got married.
I’ve heard his wife is pregnant already. Good luck to him.
He pays me well to surf the world, wearing his brand. So I need to do my job. I park the car and turn off the ignition. Claire’s hands are twisted together in her lap, her eyes slightly wider than usual.
“Remember, just ignore them,” I say, as we get ready to get out of the car. “We can go in round the side.” I point to a door on the side of the building. Jeff is standing there already, looking at his watch. “Just stay close. I’ll look after you. Not that you need it.”
One corner of her mouth curls, a hint of defiance in her gaze.
That’s my girl. Though she isn’t my girl.
Not really. Fuck. Okay. Time to get this done.
I get out the car and come around to Claire’s side, opening her door.
She takes my hand and climbs out, sunglasses already on, long hair in waves, like she’s done this a thousand times.
I can feel how damp her hand is though, and I squeeze it slightly as I lead her towards the side door, ignoring the photographers lurking nearby.
Inside the store they’re ready for me, leading me through to a table piled high with Ocean’s Curl merchandise, next to a huge curling surf wave made of cardboard, the Ocean’s Curl logo on the base.
“The idea, Bryce, is that they come in and we take their photo with you under the wave.” The girl talking to me laughs, her hand on my arm in a familiar way, despite the fact I’m still holding Claire’s hand.
“They get a discount code to buy Ocean’s Curl merch, then we sell them the photo and you can sign it.
You up for that?” She appears to notice Claire for the first time.
“Oh. I guess you can, like, hang out. We only have the one chair, though.”
Claire raises an eyebrow, staring her down. Then she wraps her hands around my bicep and leans in close. “I’m happy to look around while you’re doing this, babe. Although, maybe we should take a photo together?” She presses herself against me, smiling.
I kiss her, a brief brush on the lips, unable to resist. “Yeah, I think so. Let’s test it out.” Before she can protest, I swing her up in my arms.
She squeals, laughing, her arms coming around my neck as I carry her over to the cardboard wave, dipping her low so she shrieks with laughter, planting another kiss on her because I can.
“This is great, Bryce, love it.” Jeff has his phone out, taking shots. The photographer is there too, snapping away. I look down into Claire’s smiling face, feel her body against mine, and emotion surges through me. Fuck.
We’re like, a week into this, and I might be catching feelings.
Damn.