Chasing Forever Down (Great White Surf Saga, #1) [Wattpad Featured Story] | ✔

Chapter 14: The West Coast Hooligans

It's like a scene from a cruise commercial – white sandy beaches, bright blue water, sun shining, and palm trees swaying in a gentle breeze. A perfectly beautiful California morning. And I absolutely hate it.

The truth is it's anything but beautiful. I jerk the curtain shut, twisting Solomon around in the fabric, but the sunshine pours through. It's the first morning since the corporate jail party that I've woken up without the goal of chasing down Colby Taylor. But that doesn't mean it's not on my mind. A splash of Solomon's blue reflection spills across the floor, and it makes me smile for half a second. Even from in between the curtains, he's watching over me.

I don't ask him for guidance, though. I already know he'd tell me to put on my best smile and my rubber Great White Surf bracelet and make the most of these last few days in Crescent Cove. I've worked too hard to buy time here, and I can't waste what I have, even if I'm not on a mission to see Colby and learn the secrets of how to chase my forever down. I wonder if he's ever regretted it, if there's something he'd have done differently. But that's something I'll never get to ask him. I slip on my ocean blue bracelet and trace the embossed letters of Great White Surf with my finger. If I ever see coffee shop Tim again, I'm so giving him one of these to add to the collection of bracelets he had growing down his arm.

*****  

Reed pulls up behind Strickland's Boating, one hand on the steering wheel and the other gripping his latte. I'm glad he agreed to an early morning coffee run with me because after thinking of Tim's arm of bracelets, I could almost taste the chilled vanilla frappe from that morning at Jitters. I drop my empty cup in the trash can behind the register and flip the closed sign to open on my way out onto The Strip. I've never been much of a salesperson, but I figure if Vin can persuade someone to buy cheap hair dye spray, I can definitely sell one-dollar chances for a high-dollar custom surfboard.

But I don't have Vin's smart mouth to bark with, his height to intimidate with, or his iceberg eyes to terrify with. A group of guys are two stands down, looking at T-shirts, and they fit the stereotype for beach bums with their shaggy hair, tan lines, and brightly colored swim trunks. I can't stomach the reminder of dream-chasing surfers. Not yet. Not alone. And definitely not this early in the morning.

So I settle on the two boys at the hot dog stand. Only pre-pubescent boys eat hot dogs at eight A.M. They can't be older than twelve or thirteen, and I'm sure they at least have a dollar to spare. I push my hair behind my shoulders, resorting to total Linzi mode – cleavage and all – then lick my lips since I didn't bother with lip gloss.

And it totally works. My simple pitch of, "Hey! Great White Surf is raffling off a custom surfboard at the competition this weekend. A dollar a ticket, you can't beat that," sends me straight to total victory and Shark's surf shop is four whole dollars richer. Only 996 tickets to go.

 I don't even try to hide my goofy accomplished smile. I tuck the four dollars into a side pocket of my beach bag and head down the sidewalk of The Strip – smile, tickets, and newly found confidence in tow. Topher waves at me from twenty feet away, and I feel totally prepared for his sugar cube high, even combined with that bottle of Ocean Blast Energy in his hand.

But even with the tiny adrenaline rush from my success, my heart spirals into the pit of my stomach when I see Vin and Miles with him. From that smirky look on Vin's face, I'm more than sure he witnessed my ticket selling, and he'd rather die than keep his mouth shut about it.

"I hope you don't have plans for the rest of the summer," Vin says. He stops directly in front of Great White Surf and folds his arms across his chest.

"Why's that?" I ask.