A Year Around the Sun

t e n - wanna see something cool?

i wanna call you mine
and never let you d o w n . . .

🌊🌊🌊

A long, draining Wednesday spent at the diner and the pier were enough to send me into a coma. Getting home after twelve hours of working felt like walking into the gates of euphoria. The only upside was that I got to see the sunrise this morning, and that's about the only thing worth it for me to get out of bed at the crack of dawn. That, and getting paid.

My ten minute drive from the pier to my house felt like an eternity, until I pulled onto 42nd Street. The sight of my aqua blue abode coming into view put a tired smile on my face.

I pulled into the driveway and locked my car once I got out, then trudged up the lengthy staircase to the front door. My mom was seated at the wicker sofa on the left side of the porch, a magazine in her hands. Tawny hair up in a knot, reading glasses on her nose and a grin pulling at her lips once she saw me.

"Hi darlin'," she welcomed me, patting the spot next to her on the small sofa. I gladly took it with a limp nod of my head, plopping down with a grunt. Although they aren't as comfortable as say, a mattress, the cushions feel like heaven right about now. "How was work?"

"Well you saw me at the diner this morning, and that was fine. But the pier for some reason was crazy today. If I stayed there any longer, I'm pretty sure I would have collapsed," I told her my troubles as I shook my head and put my feet up on the coffee table.

"The perks of working at the shore during the summer," she tittered, flipping to the next page of her beloved printed gossip. My dad and I always make fun of her for buying that junk – the kind that sits on the stands by the checkout lines of the grocery store – but she tends to ignore us and continue on reading it.

I folded my hands and rested them on my stomach, another drawn out sigh escaping from my mouth. We exchanged no other words as she kept drinking in her tabloids and my focus idled on the crashing waves miles away in front of us. People on the beach looked like specks in the sand from this far away, but I still noticed the few surfboards coasting around the waves.

My lips turned up at the idea of Brody being one of the surfers. Thoughts of him invaded my mind, and I barely heard my mom's voice when she spoke up again.

"So who's this new boy you've been hanging around with?" She asked, trying to seem cool about it. But I know my mom and she's just like me – being casual about something isn't an option.

Though I haven't told her much about him, I have mentioned Brody once or twice. Not as anything in particular, only a new friend.

A new friend that happens to be very, very attractive with the ability to hold my heart captive in his hands.

The smile that was already on my face turned into more of a smirk at her question. "Brody Lambert," I started off with his full name. The chills that rose up on my arms were inevitable. "He's really cool, and he's a phenomenal surfer. But he's so different... I don't know. I've never met anyone that's like him."

"Different in a good way?" She queried, raising an eyebrow in suspicion and turning to me.

"Oh yeah," I nodded my head thoroughly. "It's a really good different."

She hummed thoughtfully, pursing her lips. "Is he cute?" She asked next. I shot her an impassive look, and she held her hands up in defense. "It's just a question."

"Mom, 'cute' isn't the right word to describe him. He's gorgeous," I corrected her, sinking down further into the cushions and staring up at the ceiling. I caught her smiling at me out of the corner of my eye, but I didn't look back at her. I was already a little embarrassed from talking to her about the guy I like, which hardly ever happens.