Once Upon A Surf

Chapter Eighteen

"It's the day of finals, and you're still in bed?"

I leaned against the doorway of Abbi's bedroom, a small smirk on my face. The pile of blankets shifted slightly and I saw her face peek out, her eyes narrowed.

"How early is it?"

"Seven A.M., sweetheart," I cocked my head. "Get up, we've got a lot to do."

"The heat isn't until two," Abbi's voice was groggy and she threw her blankets off dramatically. "I hate you."

I held out the drink I had in my hand. "Strawberry banana smoothie."

Abbi scowled at me, taking it out of my hand and taking a sip. Her brown hair was pulled into a mess on her head, makeup smudged under her eyes. I shook my head as she turned, pulling out her swimsuit from her drawer.

"You look like a walking corpse."

"Tell me something I don't know," Abbi said without looking at me. "You know I despise mornings."

"And you know I love them."

"Why exactly are we getting up this early?"

"It's the day of finals," I said with a half grin. "We have a routine to live by, remember?"

"Get out so I can change," Abbi shooed me out the door, shutting it in my face. I laughed, turning and walking into the kitchen. I took a seat at the counter, sipping my smoothie and swirling my keys on my finger. After a moment, Abbi brushed into the kitchen, her hair fixed and her smoothie almost gone.

"Nice shirt."

Abbi rolled her eyes, sitting down next to me. We wore the same t-shirt to every meet—a one-of-a-kind light blue shirt we had won when we were eight years old. After our first official meet, our parents were technically given the shirts, and the only size they had was extra-large. Since that date we all wore those shirts to every surfing event—Abbi, Jenna, and I.

I looked down at the counter at the thought of Jenna, glancing at Abbi. "Do you think she'll come?"

Abbi, picking up on who I was speaking of, pursed her lips and shrugged. "I don't know."

I nodded slightly, clenching my keys in my fist and forcing a smile. "Ready to go?"

"Let me tell my dad we're leaving."

Abbi said a quick goodbye and her dad told us he'd meet us at the beach, and with that we were off. The weather outside was gorgeous, perfect for surfing—a light breeze, the sun already rising in the sky, the sound of seagulls cawing in the distance.

I hopped into the drivers' seat of the car and Abbi got in on the side, and I started up the car and drove towards the Shack. Abbi turned on the radio, tuning in to classical music as we did the day of every meet. The music calmed me and I let my arm dangle out the window as we sped along.

Within a few moments we got to the Shack and we both climbed out, heading inside. The bells jingled above our heads as we walked in, the Shack empty. It didn't open for another hour, but Braxton was there, sitting behind the counter with a magazine in hand.

"You two are late."

"Her fault," I said with a grin, hopping over the counter. Abbi followed suit, and we paused in front of the surfboard hanging on the wall.