"How gnarly of you," I rolled my eyes.
"Kennedy, you don't know the half of it." His gaze burned with treasured desire. "I could surf waves on your neck with my lips."
My eyebrows rose and I slid my hands down his waist and watched his eyelids flut...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Kennedy's P.O.V
Rylan's black chevy Silverado, stood its ground against the storming wind and rain in the parking lot.
It was a long walk back to the Hilton Resort Hotel from Randy's surf shop. The storm was just the same. Clouds as dark as gun metal gathered above the small town. Strong gusts commanded cars to tip in the wrong directions. And then there was the rain. It was the kind of rain that came down in a heavy down pour and didn't care who it touched as it quenched the land down under.
I knew that by the time I made it back my box of memorabilia would be filled with rainwater. I should've brought a coat. I looked across the road to the beach, the waves rising high and crashing down.
Flashbacks fizzed in my brain of the storm I surfed on the night of prom after I found out Caiden's original intentions with me. Why was it that every time a male and I fought there was a storm? The waves were huge, the face of the taunting.
I would say that I had to resist the once again stupid urge to surf that washed over me, but really, I simply stared at the ocean. Our beach had lost one already, I knew deep down that I didn't want to be the one to add to that count as much as Rylan probably wished.
About ten minutes later with wet hair plastered to my cheeks I had made it a fair bit closer to the Hilton, although in the storm the wind gusts and a heavy box of trophies made it harder to move at a fast pace.
I wasn't sure what time it was, so I wasn't entirely sure how late I was to the WSL Meet and Greet all I knew was that I was definitely late. I just hoped they didn't replace my spot on the tour for not attending compulsory events.
A black car drove past me. It was the first car I had seen on the road since this morning's severe weather morning at breakfast. It continued for a few hundred meters before slowing. As I continued walking, I watched as its reverse lights turned on, the pelts of rain dancing in its bright red color.
And then by the time it had reversed back to pull up next to me. I had realized it was Rylan's Silverado. The driver's window rolls down, the car slowly rolling forward following my footsteps.
"You're walking in the middle of a storm," Rylan said bluntly. His arm resting in the gap of the open window the rain nipping away at his elbow as he kept one hand on the wheel and both eyes on me. Luckily there was no one else on the road.
"I know," I answered with little to no emotion and proceeded to walk with my box in the heavy downpour.
The sky rumbled above us in warning. "Your insane," he called out over a large crack of thunder.
I'm the insane one? I thought. He was the person who full on yelled at me after finding an old newspaper article.
He continued to follow me down the road going under 5 miles an hour. Annoyingly, the car matched my pace, so it was hard to ignore him. Why is he still here if he didn't even want to be in the same room with me not long before?
