The Truth About Sex & Surfing [Featured Story]

Chapter fourteen

Dylan leaned his head back against the outer wall of the shop. "I've got something that you need."

"Oh yeah?" Hailey stammered.

"Yeah, that's right." He put his hands behind his back. "Pick one."

Hailey paused. This was not the reception she'd been expecting. For one, he didn't seem mad at all. In fact, judging by the way he squinted and smiled, he was actually happy to see her. She didn't know what to make of that – maybe there was some cultural difference she wasn't aware of? Like, maybe it wasn't considered rude here to just up and leave the morning after, to steal somebody's board shorts and then run away. Maybe people here did that sort of thing all the time.

Or maybe it was just Dylan who did this sort of thing all the time. It would make sense. This morning he looked hotter than ever, with a gleam in his eye like he knew Hailey's every secret. Which, she had to admit, he kind of did. There was a couple of feet between them but she could still feel his hands on her body, his weight on hers. She could remember the exact shape of his mouth and...

She reached out and tapped him on his left shoulder.

"You're sure?" He showed her that fist, fingers cupped over the palm.

"I'm sure. That's the one."

"That's your final answer?"

"Oh for god's sake," she snapped. "Just give it to me." Hailey wasn't even sure she was talking about her bracelet anymore. The memories were too strong and too fresh, and all she wanted to do was launch herself at him. Lean her body against his and kiss him. Only that would be totally inappropriate, wouldn't it? They were in public after all – with crowds of tourists swarming the sidewalk – and hooking up here would be distasteful and wrong. So why was she still tempted? Ugh. It was Dylan's fault for looking so good.

"Too bad. You picked wrong." He opened his hand to prove it. Nothing.

Hailey grabbed for his other hand, but he was too quick for her, twisting away and laughing.

"C'mon," she said. "Don't make me beg. It's got a lot of sentimental value, you know?"

"Okay, okay. No worries. It's inside the shop." He looked at her another moment, then disappeared through the doorway.

Hailey went to follow him, ducking inside too. After the brightness of the sidewalk, the office was shadowy – surfboards against the walls and an old, beaten-up desk with no one behind it. Frank the Auctioneer must have had the day off. She took another step or two further, and stopped as her eyes adjusted to the darkness.

Then it was completely dark. The door creaked shut with a horror-movie sound.

She froze.

Dylan seemed to be standing just behind her. When he spoke, his voice was low, and his breath brushed her shoulder. "So tell me, Hailey. Why'd you leave like that? What's the story?"

Her skin tingled, and her heart started to hammer. So there wasn't some massive cultural difference after all. She really had embarrassed herself. He really did think she hated him.

"Listen," she began. "I'm really sorry."

"You don't need to be sorry, girl. I just wondered."

"Yeah, I—"

"Did you not have a good time? 'Cause I had a good time."

She swallowed hard. Not out of nervousness – more because, suddenly, it wasn't so easy to keep still. A low buzz had started in her insides. "No, I had a good time."