"Promise me...not to awaken love until the time is right." – Song of Solomon 4:7 (NLT)
"Hey Maya! Come check this one out!" Jake yelled through the shop. The owner, who was seated behind the cash register, frowned at Jake before turning his attention back to his magazine.
"How do you like it?" Jake asked when Maya walked over to him. He held up a long-sleeved shirt with a Laguna Beach logo emblazoned across the chest.
Maya pursed her lips. "I don't know."
"Come on, I thought dark pink was your favorite color."
"Actually, it's maroon, which is supposed to be more of a brownish-red."
Jake rolled his eyes. "Okay, okay. I genuinely thought you would like this one, though."
Maya bit her lip and watched as Jake placed the shirt back on the rack. Her eyes lingered on the Laguna Beach logo. The gang had stopped for a quick bathroom break, but Maya and Jake had decided to look for a few souvenirs before piling back into the Volkswagen. Alana was the only one who had stayed in the van.
Maya's heart immediately went out to her friend. "Do you think Alana's okay?" she asked quietly.
"Yeah, why wouldn't she be? She seemed better this morning."
"I don't know. She seems a little...distracted, maybe."
"She's probably still spooked from her accident at Huntington, and a little scared from the Wedge. I'll admit I was pretty scared myself," Jake said. "Come on, let's go check out the next shop, seeing as you're so picky with clothes."
Now it was Maya's turn to roll her eyes. "Alright." She looped her arm through Jake's, but her thoughts were still concentrated on Alana. She hadn't been able to get her best friend alone, and she was aching to talk. She wanted to know if Alana was really, truly okay. Maya knew whatever was on her friend's mind wouldn't blow over in just a single day.
"Let's go in here," Jake said, oblivious to Maya's apprehension.
Maya quickly snapped out of her thoughts and headed inside the store. She quietly wrapped her hand around Jake's. She wanted to make the most of their time alone together and enjoy the moment before it was too late.
When it would be too late, she didn't know. She wanted to have fun while she and Jake were away from the gang, but it was hard not knowing where their relationship was headed. Would the gang accept them as a couple, knowing how deep Maya and Jake's feelings ran for each other? Or would it drive a wedge between their tight-knit group of friends?
It was a question Maya had ran through her head many a time. She didn't know if Jake felt the same way, but it didn't matter. If their relationship was doomed to hit a dead end, why start it in the first place?
The gang was nearing the two-week anniversary of the surfing safari. Twelve days ago they had left C Street, Ventura for County Line Beach. At a glance, it only felt like a couple days, but after Cole thought back on how many places he'd surfed and how much he had changed, it felt he had been on the road for a month. His head span just thinking about how far they had traveled.
The gang planned to make San Onofre—about fifteen miles south from where they were—the turn-around point. By the time they made it to San O, they would be at the two and a half-week mark. Since they didn't want to prolong the surfari to over three weeks, they would only surf a couple spots up the coast on their return trip. Their vacation was officially coming to a close.
Cole finished waxing his shortboard and took a step back. He examined the bumpy white texture and thin grooves for a couple seconds before his thoughts were interrupted by a beep from his cell phone.
He stood up and walked over to his beach bag. After glancing at his phone's screen, he scowled and turned it off. That was the tenth time Taylor had texted him in the past day. He knew it was his fault for not replying, but she was getting to be so darn annoying. Cole thought he had gotten her off his back at Paradise Cove. Hadn't she even threatened to dump him?
He sighed and tossed his beach bag inside his Volkswagen. A salty sea breeze, rather calm compared to the gusts of wind he had experienced all day yesterday, brought thoughts of surfing to mind. The gang was currently in Salt Creek, a famous surf spot known for its great waves and solid southwest swells. Though the waves weren't expected to get over shoulder-high, Cole knew it was going to be a fun day.
But they had to move quickly. If they wanted to reach San O before the middle of next week, they only had a few hours to surf Salt Creek. Cole was bummed, but it motivated him to make the most of this surf session.
Once everyone was suited up and ready to go, they descended a steep walkway to the beach, where they were greeted by the sight of beautiful lines of waves. They broke for a good distance along the shore, with crowds of surfers at each peak. The rising sun made the water shimmer a bright blue-green, illuminating its glassy surface. Cole was stoked.
However, the one member of the gang who was usually the first in the water was missing. Cole frowned and swept his gaze up and down the beach, then turned around and stared up at the cliffs. Where was Alana?
Koa, Jake, and Maya were too busy talking and goofing off to notice their friend was missing. Apparently Blaine and Cole were the only ones who realized they had left without Alana.
"Do you know where she is?" Cole asked his brother.
Blaine shrugged. "I thought she was right behind us."
"I'll go back and see if she's okay." Cole stuck the nose of his shortboard in the sand and hurried back to the parking lot. As soon as he came within sight of his Volkswagen, he saw Alana bent over near the curb, her surfboard wedged between her legs so it wouldn't fall.
"Hey!"
Alana glanced up at the sound of Cole's voice. "Hey," she called back.
"What's the matter?" He watched as she struggled with the zipper on her wetsuit, blindly trying to zip it up.
"This," she grunted. "I give up. The darn thing keeps getting stuck on my swimsuit."
Cole smiled and walked over to her. She obediently turned around and swept her hair over her shoulder so it wouldn't get caught in the zipper.
"Sorry we left you," Cole said sheepishly.
Alana laughed. "No worries. I was going to tell you guys to wait up, but you seemed eager to hit the water."
"Yeah." He finally freed the zipper from her bikini strap. "It's a bummer we only have a week left."
"And yet you were the one who didn't want to go on this trip in the first place."
Cole could hear the smug satisfaction in Alana's voice, and he couldn't help but shake his head and laugh. "Yeah, I was a jerk."
"We all have our days."
"But I had months."
"Okay, I can't argue with that," she chuckled. "At least you came around, though. You've brought new energy and spirit to the gang."
"Spirit? Really?"
"You know, energy. Motivation."
"Me—motivating? Now you're just pulling my leg," Cole laughed.
Alana grinned and glanced over her shoulder to see his progress. "So how's the zipper coming?"
"I think I got it." Actually, the zipper had been fixed long before they had gotten on the topic of his improved attitude. Only now did Cole zip it all the way up and fasten the Velcro at the nape of her neck. His fingers lingered on her warm skin for a few extra seconds.
Alana's breath hitched. Cole's fingers quickly withdrew, and he swallowed nervously. "Well, there you go," he said. "All fixed."
"Thanks." Alana tossed her hair back over her shoulder and picked up her shortboard. She avoided Cole's gaze as they descended the walkway to the beach.
Cole's nerves were a mess when he reached the sand. As Alana made a beeline for the water and began paddling to the lineup, he took his time getting his leash on, trying to put as much distance between them as possible. He felt like a fool.
Blaine, observant as always, came over to him. They walked into the water together and reached the lineup in silence. Neither the cloudless blue sky, nor the warm glassy water, helped to improve Cole's spirits.
Blaine sighed. "Well?"
"Well what?"
"What went wrong this time?"
"I don't want to talk about it." Cole set his jaw and turned to paddle away from his brother. "Can we just surf and go into details later?"
Blaine shrugged. "If that's what you want."
"Thank you," Cole muttered, glad to have his brother off his back. He glared at the horizon, the hot sun burning into his vision. During the next few sets he went agro on all the waves he could find—even if it meant dropping in on some unsuspecting surfers. He found himself catching more rights than lefts, since he was a regular footer, and drifted slightly down the beach away from the gang. They were now one peak apart from each other—and Cole was glad for the distance.
Every so often he would glance over and see someone from the gang drop into a wave. Usually it was Blaine or Alana, since they were the ones catching the most waves. Cole's stomach twisted into a knot whenever he spotted that familiar shock of blonde hair and Ripcurl springsuit. But what surprised him was the fact that her looks were starting to become less important. He was caught off guard by the realization. For nearly the entire surfing safari he had been trying not to let his affection show, but now her appearance wasn't the main focus of his attention. Not even the slight touches and brief contact they made on occasion were highlights. He just couldn't get away from the fact that Alana was becoming more to him than a cute surfer girl. He wanted her; he wanted all of her.
The thought terrified him.
"Dude!"
Cole was startled by the sudden exclamation. He turned around and saw a surfer paddling towards him. "Dude," the surfer said, shaking his head, "I can't believe you let that one go by."
It took Cole a few seconds to realize what the surfer was talking about. While Cole had been stressing out over his thoughts about Alana, he had unknowingly let a perfect little A-frame slip by. He watched as it broke behind him, the lip curling over in a sheen of offshore mist.
"Oops," was all he said.
The surfer laughed and sat down on his board. "It happens to all of us, man. Where was your head?"
"Somewhere."
"Yeah, I'll say. Hey, are you gonna take this next one?"
Cole glanced up and realized a second wave was coming. It didn't have a nice peak and shoulder like the one before it, but the racy section looked perfect to wake him up. "Yeah," he said, "I'm going for it."
The surfer watched as Cole got into position and popped up to his feet. Cole cruised down to the bottom, around a section of whitewater, and pulled a clean off-the-lip. He heard someone hoot with approval as arcs of whitewater flew from the tail of his board.
Cole's thoughts were now entirely concentrated on the glassy shoulder in front of him—well, almost entirely. Part of him was still thinking about Alana. He pictured her making a bottom turn, going vertical off the lip, grabbing her front rail, and executing a flawless aerial.
He narrowed his eyes. Focus, he told myself. He set himself up for the maneuver by maintaining speed in the pocket with a few cutbacks. As soon as the wave stacked up on the sandbar, he drove down to the bottom and raced back up to the lip. With his speed at its maximum, he extended his legs and grabbed his front rail. He got a glimpse of the wave as it churned below him, part of the lip broken from his launch. He felt himself rotating in air, his hips turned and his knees bent, until the tail of his board landed back on the top of the wave. As whitewater roared around him, he let go of the rail and eased back into an upright position.
He'd landed it. He'd landed a frontside reverse. Man, did it feel good!
Cole glanced over his shoulder to see the same surfer still watching him. His jaw was now hanging open, as if he didn't expect a teenager to pull of a stunt like Cole did.
Cole smiled smugly. He plopped down onto his stomach and rode the whitewater into shore. As soon as it was shallow enough to stand, he picked up his board and walked up the beach until he was directly in front of the gang. Though they hadn't seen his successful aerial, it had given him the confidence he needed. He had regained his self-assurance and was ready to confront his next obstacle, Alana, even if that meant sitting next to her in the water and engaging in slight conversation—nothing too demanding or awkward; just a simple, "Nice wave you caught."
Yeah, he could do that.
As long as he didn't let his heart get ahead of his brain, that is.