Chapter 8: Operation Party Boy

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"Pay up!" a blonde with nappy dreadlocks shouts out. He rubs his fingers together, and a pretty-boy brunette hands him a twenty dollar bill.

"Hey," Alston interrupts, "I want you guys to meet someone. This is Linzi." He nods his head toward her. "Oh, and Haley," he adds, pointing back at me with his beer bottle.

I begin to drown in self-pity at the realization that I've become the afterthought known as "Oh, and Haley," but Alston begins rattling off names, and I try to keep up just in case I need to know them later.

"That's Miles, one of the best surfers I know," he says, nodding to the dreadlocked blonde. "And Dominic," he says, beer bottle nodding to the brunette.

"I'm the best surfer he knows though," Dominic says.

Linzi looks to me, but the lump in my throat keeps me from coming up with any Colby Taylor conversation starters. I think Linzi is too scared to blow this with Alston wrapped around her finger...and the rest of her body, for that matter.

"The hell you are," a voice says from behind me. He dives past me, onto the pool table, and pops up like he would on a surfboard. He nails a perfect surfer stance, then waves the shaka sign with both hands. "Everyone knows Shark was the best...now it's me."

He jumps down and extends his arm for a handshake. "I'm Topher," he says. "Hooligan number three." His messy brown hair curls at the ends, and I bet it's even wilder when it's wet. He has the bluest eyes I've ever seen, and I almost feel like I should know him.

"Haley," I reply.

Alston speaks up before Topher can say anything else. "These guys are from Horn Island, the next town over," he says. "They're in a surf gang – West Coast Hooligans. The name fits pretty well if you ask me."

Dominic slams his beer bottle down on the pool table. "No one asked you," he says. "I need another beer." He picks up the empty bottle, grabs Topher's arm, and pulls him away on the quest for more beer.

As soon as they're out of sight, Alston moves around the pool table and grabs a stick. "Play with me?" he asks Linzi, raising both eyebrows up and down.

Linzi twirls her hair around her index finger, the purple flower spinning in and out of strings of blonde. "I don't really play pool."

He glances back at Miles then struts toward Linzi. "Make you a bet. You win and you get a kiss."

"And if I lose?" she asks.

Alston leans into her face. "Then I get the kiss."

Miles clears his throat. "I think I need another beer." He glances over at me. "Walk with me?"

I more than gladly accept the offer. The beer quest sounds much better than this gag fest I'm watching. He pushes through the crowd toward the kitchen, steadily glancing over his shoulder to make sure I'm still behind. It's hard to lose his messy dreadlocks in the crowd.

He grabs a fresh beer. "You surf?" he asks.

I shake my head. I don't know the first thing about surfing other than Colby Taylor does it, and I have to find him again in this lifetime. I don't tell this to Miles, though. I will not be surfer stalkerazzi.

"I've been at it for a decade," he says. He takes a swig from his cup. "I was eight when I started. Topher actually taught me how to pop up on a board."

The fuzzy hopefuls inside of me tingle with excitement. "So you hang out with local surfers?" I pray this isn't too obvious. I feel like he can see through me like sea glass and know all the secrets buried within.

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