Can't Get Enough [Wattpad Featured Story]

Chapter Two

Cole watched critically as she set up her aerial with a strong bottom turn. She hit the lip just as the wave broke, sending her flying into the air. She casually bent her knees and grabbed her front rail, as if she had done this a million times already, and made a near-complete rotation before landing back in the whitewater. Her board glided smoothly into position, and she straightened up with a knowing smile on her face.

"I think we know who won!" Alana hollered as she raced past Cole, who was still paddling. He shot her a dirty look before duck diving under her wave, letting the churning whitewater roll over him. He tried in vain to ignore the burning embarrassment flooding his cheeks. Yeah, we know who won, his thoughts simmered. Big deal.

He was greeted with two smirks from Blaine and Jake, who were waiting for him in the lineup. "I don't want to talk about it," Cole said automatically.

"What? You're too macho to admit you were beaten by a girl?" Jake teased.

"Well," Blaine said, "at least we know you need to work on your frontside air reverse."

"Yeah, whatever." Cole folded his arms and fixed his eyes on the horizon. He hoped another set would come, because then he wouldn't have to talk face-to-face with Alana herself. Now that was one conversation he really wanted to avoid.

Unfortunately, as luck would have it, an inconvenient lull soon followed. Cole found himself bobbing up and down with no waves in sight. The sun was beating down through his sticky rashguard, making him uncomfortably hot. He rolled off his board and took a dip in the water before climbing back on.

As soon as he resurfaced, Cole glanced up to see Alana peering down at him, an impish expression on her face. "How's it going, loser?"

"Fine, until you showed up," he retorted.

By the look on her face, Cole could tell Alana knew he was more pissed off than he let on. It was a bit of a known fact that Cole had a temper on him.

Alana merely shrugged her shoulders at his insult. "It was just for fun, you know."

"Right. Like you don't take contests seriously."

Cole had her there, and she knew it. Alana took everything seriously when it came to surfing. "Okay, so maybe I really wanted to win," she admitted. "So what? Isn't that what competing is all about? Liven up a bit, Cole."

Liven up? Easier said than done, he thought sourly. He refolded his arms across his chest and continued to stare her down. But it was hard to stay mad at someone so...so...

His thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of a new set. As he started paddling toward the oncoming waves, he thanked whichever omnipotent Being in the heavens had awarded him the timely disruption.

"How was the surf?" Mr. Anderson asked as the twins entered the kitchen, still dripping wet.

"Great," Blaine said automatically. "The waves were peeling nicely around the Point. There were easily some head-high waves out there."

"Sounds like fun." Mr. Anderson smiled warmly at them before taking a sip of his coffee and turning his attention back to his newspaper. That left the twins to ransack the kitchen by themselves. They rummaged through all the cupboards and scanned the contents in the fridge to see what they could eat for brunch. They had surfed for a solid four hours, and it was already eleven in the morning. Cole's stomach was growling.

When he finally sat down with a huge bowl of cereal and four slices of toast, Cole felt faint with hunger. Just as he raised a spoonful of Cocoa Puffs to his lips, his dad suddenly interrupted him.

"Oh, before I forget," he said, folding up his newspaper. "There's one last board I want you to work on today. Can you get it done before lunch?"

Cole shrugged. "Sure."

"Atta boy." Mr. Anderson tossed his paper into the trash bin before heading out the door, whistling a tune. As soon as Cole finished scarfing down his food, he stuck his bowl and spoon in the dishwasher and headed into the garage.

Boards upon boards lined the walls, taking up every spare inch of the room with the exception of the work area. Mr. Anderson spent the majority of his time in his "workshop," as he liked to call it. The surfboards he shaped were of the best quality and design. They were hands-down the most remarkable boards produced by a local shaper. Surfers came from miles around to check out his quiver at his humble surf shop, Anderson Boards.

Cole quietly stepped up to the shortboard lying in the middle of the garage. It was propped up on a rack, its smooth white surface gleaming under the overhead light. He trailed his fingers down its flawless rails, slowly awakening his inner artist. Dozens of images emerged in his mind as he took in the shape and size of the surfboard. It looked to be about 5'6", with three fins on the bottom and a shimmering gold stringer down the middle. Except for Mr. Anderson's logo and the stringer, the entire board was a spotless white.

Cole quickly grabbed a double action airbrush from his dad's workbench. After preparing his paint and attaching the airbrush to its air source, he studied the surfboard like an artist would observe a blank canvas. He had plenty of ideas to decorate the board, but he preferred to just start airbrushing without a clear goal in mind. He let the ideas flow as he moved his arm up and down, spraying intricate details here before using another color and spraying sweeping curves there.

He didn't even know what he was doing until he took a break to observe his work. Cole grinned when he took in the turquoise lines of waves on the right side of the board, framed by two tall palm trees and a stretch of yellow-orange sand. But when his gaze swept over to the surfer he had sprayed on the left side of the board, he began to grow anxious.

"Oh crap," he muttered. "Oh crap oh crap oh crap."

The surfer, who was calmly observing the turquoise waves, had flowing blonde hair and piercing blue eyes. Though only half her face was visible, it was clear who she was. The real question, though, was why he had airbrushed her onto this fresh surfboard.

Cole shuddered. He needed to get out. He needed a break. He needed to clear his head from all thoughts—especially those of Alana.

Something was definitely wrong with him.