Caught Inside

Chapter Fifteen

"Gracious words are like a honeycomb, sweetness to the soul and health to the body." – Proverbs 16:24

Saturday morning found Cole lying on the living room floor, tossing a basketball into the air while Dude ran in circles chasing his tail on the other side of the room. With no swell, no boards to airbrush for his dad, and no desire to start on homework, Cole was thoroughly bored.

Part of him wanted to hop on his skateboard and ride somewhere, but another part wanted to stay on the floor and be lazy. If only today's surf competition hadn't been rescheduled due to a lack of waves...

Cole let his chest rise and fall dramatically with a deep sigh. At least his janitorial work every day after school was finished. That had not been a fun punishment. Plus, Logan had finally gotten what he deserved—expulsion. Now as long as Taylor's buddies stayed away from him, Cole would be fine.

Taylor...

He suddenly sat up, black dots dancing across his vision from the inevitable head rush. That was what he had to do. Jumping to his feet, he headed into the garage, startling Dude on his way out. He saw his dad working on a few boards and told him he was going to ride around.

"Alright," Mr. Anderson said. "Have fun."

"I'm not sure you would call this 'fun,'" Cole muttered under his breath as he stepped onto his skateboard. He pushed off down the driveway, heading east towards the nicer, larger neighborhoods. It was a good fifteen-minute ride before he reached his destination: a two-story white house with perfectly trimmed flowers and a well-watered lawn. He stepped off his skateboard and swung it underneath his arm, staring up at the huge wooden front door uncertainly.

Not for the first time that morning, the thought what am I even doing? crossed his mind. He let out a deep breath and knocked twice on the wooden door.

The loud, hollow sound that followed scared the wits out of him. He immediately winced, wondering if ten in the morning was too early for the Rosalinds. When no one answered thirty seconds later, he rapped four more times just in case. Still nothing.

Cole's eyes slid over to the doorbell, sleek and inviting on the freshly painted exterior of the house. Should he?

Just as his fingers reached out to press the button, the sound of a ringing phone caused him to freeze. It came from inside the house, but when no one picked it up twelve rings later, Cole's fears were confirmed: the Rosalinds weren't home.

Well, then. Slightly relieved, he turned around and headed back down the walkway to the street. The plan was a bust. He knew he had done the right thing by trying to get ahold of Taylor. Ever since he'd deleted her number from his contacts, the only way to reach her was by paying her a visit (he wasn't about to approach her at school—not after everything that had happened). But was reaching Taylor something he should even be doing in the first place?

Cole pushed off and began coasting, his stomach knotted and twisted with worry. Part of him still cared for Taylor because she was lost in the wrong crowd. And maybe she still cared for him, too, even after using him at one of her infamous parties. After all, Taylor was the one who had followed Cole down the coast during the gang's surfing safari. Was it possible she still liked him?

The thought made him sick. Cole only had feelings for one girl, and she definitely wasn't Taylor.

As Koa lay on his longboard, his ankles crossed and his fingers drumming lightly on the nose, he wished his life didn't have to be so boring. All he ever did was go to school, surf, and do homework. He didn't have any hobbies, aside from surfing, and he didn't have any siblings to hang out with.