Tides of Love

Chapter 1 - To Do: Do NOT Fall In Love

Then

I don't proclaim to love many things in this world, but I love lists. In a universe filled with chaos and disorder, there's something beautiful about practical rows of items ready to be accomplished. Studies show there's a measurable increase in dopamine from just ticking off check boxes, not to mention the impacts on productivity.

Today, my list was simple.

1. Attend all required events for a newcomer on the Surfing International Championship tour.

That's it – and I'm almost done. I'm aware that I have a coveted position on the tour, and I've been appropriately grateful and unflappable as the junior tour manager, Zoe, has dragged me from photo shoot to press call to sponsorship sessions in an unending blur.

This is the final commitment for the day; a closed event for the competitors in a cute beach-themed bar. It's a meaningless meet-and-greet. All I have to do is smile, nod, drink two cocktails, and then I can escape back to my hotel room. I'm not here to make friends, but I'm not trying to accumulate enemies either, so "neutral-girl from neutral-planet" is my chosen character for the evening.

Zoe is so effervescent, I feel sugary and sticky as she introduces me to the other surfers. Everyone smiles, everyone is pleasant. I smile and play nice too, but beneath the surface, I can't help but wonder if anyone else feels the same as me: smiling but screaming on the inside.

"Oh!" squeals Zoe suddenly, pulling on my arm, "Marina, look - there he is!"

"Who?" I ask, trying to gently disentangle myself from her grip.

"Max Rider!"

Oo, interesting. While I was still a rising star in the surfing world, I'd created a list of the top professional surfers, from most eligible to least. I'd deleted anyone with a current partner, and ordered based on desirable traits. Max Rider, current world number one, was far and away the top contender.

Zoe gushes. "I'll just go over and see if he's up for an intro – Max is a kind of a big deal, I don't want to assume."

"No problem," I say, easing gratefully into a bar stool by the wall. "I'll wait here."

Zoe hurries off, while I subtly glance across the room and absorb Rider's appearance.

Hmm. I mean... He's okay, I guess? I'm not sure what I've been expecting, other than what I've already seen in press and media. Max is tall, blonde, curly haired, and lean. He's objectively good-looking, the object of surfie girl crushes the world over.

But as I stare at him, my eyes narrow in confusion. The ingredients are quality – attractive, successful, modest – but when I look at him, I don't feel a thing.

Maybe that's how it's supposed to be? My sisters always talk about idiotic concepts like lightning and flame when they met their partners – and since I've always attempted to be the exact opposite of my siblings, maybe it's a good thing that all I feel when I look at Max is... meh?

"I know what you're thinking..."

I jump as a deep, cheerful voice beside me causes me to start. I refuse to look at the man next to me; the fastest way to give away your power is to let them know they affected you. Instead, I tilt my chin up and ask derisively, "And what exactly am I thinking?"

The voice responds, filled with mirth. "That Max Rider is the spankiest piece of surfie ass you've ever seen. Hell, even I'd turn for him, and I'm as straight as a rainbow slinky."