In These Streets

Chapter 14

It took us a little over two hours to reach Malibu with all of the busy Saturday afternoon traffic.

I had learned more about Darius through the drive, and by the time we pulled into the parking lot at Surfrider's Beach, I was enjoying myself and felt fully relaxed with him.

He'd grown up in Compton, his mother working as a waitress and his father as a janitor.

Or that's what his dad had told them. He'd actually been a discreet crack addict, and had spent his days getting high in the streets. When their financial situation had finally gotten bad, his dad had walked out on them when Darius was just ten, leaving them poor and struggling.

I'd also learned he was really good at basketball, and once thought about going pro.

Eventually, he'd worked and saved enough to go to a university.

He'd asked about my life back in Salt Lake, and I stammered through a lie about how my family had money but we lost it all due to a scam, a situation my mother didn't divulge any information about.

It was a twisted truth, but I still felt like a liar as he sympathized with me.

I quickly changed the topic, and told him funny stories of my childhood, like the time Ophelia and I got caught at the mall wearing inappropriate clothing when we were sixteen, and how our parents found out and grounded us. Or the time Ophelia dared me to swim in her neighbor's pool at night and the older couple caught me.

He teased me mercilessly on the way to the beach, and we were both laughing by the time we pulled into the lot.

He took off his jewelry and put it in a box under his seat, then got out and popped the trunk.

I left my purse in the Rover and got out, the cool breeze of the ocean and the smell of brine uplifting my mood even more.

I walked to the back of the Rover.

Darius was lifting an expensive-looking white cooler out of the trunk, with three large, fluffy white beach towels folded on top, then reached and pulled out a large blue beach umbrella afterwards.

"Need any help?"

"Nah, sweet ting, I got it."

He shut the trunk and locked the doors, easily scooping up the cooler and tucked the umbrella under his arm, then we headed for the beach.

Surfrider's Beach was busy, and it looked fun and inviting. The sand was white and stretched for miles, with mountains encasing the cove, and a big wooden pier protruded from the beach out into the water. People with surfboards bobbed offshore, some riding waves, while others paddled through them.

We found a spot for our stuff not far from the surf, and set up the umbrella and the towels, with the cooler in a shady corner.

"We have to get surfboards," Darius said, taking my hand as we headed over to a rental hut.

I got a bright red and yellow board, and Darius got a sleek-looking black and bright green one. We got two wetsuits, and carried them back to our spot.

"Darius, what if I really suck at this?"

He chuckled. "Relax, girl, this is for fun. You can only get better if you suck."

He stuck the end of his surfboard in the sand so it stuck up straight, and then yanked his muscle shirt off.

I was able to stop my jaw a second before it dropped open.

His abdomen was cut and defined, the muscles rigid in his eight-pack. A tattoo of a bold cross covered his thick, left pectoral while the left side of his rib cage had some sort of king cobra inked on it. His chest was smooth and free of hair, but he had a tiny trail of it from his navel that disappeared into the waistband of his board shorts, which hung low, revealing the cut of his hips that made that sexy V-shape.