Breeze of Life (6 page)

“So, when do you fly out for Hawaii?” I asked, trying to break the spell of this wave worship moment. Harper shrugged seeming to ignore me, his focus unwavering on the ocean before us.

“Stop ignoring me, you numpty!” I demanded. That got his attention.

“Numpty? Seriously, Breeze, how old are you?” I shrugged. I seriously didn’t care what he thought about my lame insults.

“Butt-munch,” I added for extra effect. Harper laughed loudly and approached where I sat on the fence. He put his arms on either side of me, caging me in. His sparkling blue eyes never left mine, I wanted to look away but couldn’t. The heat in that gaze held me in a captivated trance.

“I dare you to call me an asshole or better yet, say prick.” I tried hard to ignore him and finally managed to pry my eyes away, glancing at the ocean beyond. Now it was my turn to be childishly ignorant.

“No, I sound stupid when I swear,” I mumbled.

“No, numpty and butt-munch sound stupid.”

“They aren’t crude or vulgar and they don’t insult anyone’s genitalia or sexual preference, my insults are user and receiver friendly.” Harper laughed again and pushed up the brim of my hat, his hat. I chanced a glance into his eyes again. Bad move, I was once more trapped in Harper’s baby blues.

“Insults aren’t meant to be friendly, Breeze, they are meant to piss people off and allow you to blow off steam at the same time.” He was studying me like a scientist would a newly discovered insect.

“I blew off steam when I called you butt-munch and now you seem all irritated by it, so I guess my juvenile taunt worked just fine.” Harper shook his head in wonder. “In fact, I think you swear too much. We need a swear jar!” Harper looked horrified and I had to laugh at him. “What, don’t think you could handle going without the odd curse word?”  He considered me for a moment, I could see his mind ticking, thoughts whirling around in that far too sexy head of his. “I dare you,” I added. That sealed his fate and unfortunately mine too.

“Done! Every time I swear I will owe you half an hour of slavery.”

“What do you mean?” I asked horrified. Slave? Like I had to tie him up and whip him or something? Holy hell, the image of Harper tied up and at my mercy sent a powerful surge of lust through my veins. I gripped the timber fence beneath my hands tightly.

“I will be your personal slave. I will do anything you ask of me. Once our trip is over we’ll add up the hours and I will be your personal slave for however long has been accumulated.”  I wondered if Harper knew just how appealing the idea seemed. I had a feeling he knew exactly what was going through my mind, the sparkle in his eyes was one of amusement and knowing.

“Fine.” I held out my hand to shake on it. Harper and I had always found ourselves sealing our deals with a handshake. It was the honorable thing to do. However, this time instead of shaking my hand, Harper placed a gentle kiss to the back of it. His eyes never left mine as he did, the longing and desire was obvious in their depths. Then, as if nothing had happened, he simply turned and resumed his ‘watching’ seemingly unaffected by the tender gesture he had bestowed on me.  I couldn’t believe how Harper’s touch was suddenly affecting me after all these years. Sure, his touch had always sparked something, but this something bordered on out of control. It forced my memories back to that kiss in March. That kiss had been life changing and I had quickly shoved those feelings deep down inside where I was less likely to be hurt by them. My inner woman most likely hated my guts for the forced ignorance of my desire. Back in March I didn’t want to jeopardize mine and Harper’s friendship by changing things between us and now? Well, now things were different and a massive question mark hovered over my life. I couldn’t imagine giving all of myself to Harper now then dying in a few months, or maybe years if I was lucky. That would be selfish. All these simple touches and gestures though were beginning to force those buried feelings back to the surface. It was confusing, frightening and, to be honest, a little thrilling all at once.

I sighed and rubbed the back of my head, feeling the sun burning a path to the bare skin of my neck. “You know, I don’t have to worry about the cancer killing me Harper, you are going to bore me to death with all this damn ocean gazing.” Harper grinned taking a few steps backwards so I could climb on-board once again. Back in the car I removed the hat taking care not to dislodge my head wrap. Harper was absorbing and noting every move I made in typical Harper fashion. He could be so damn observant when he wanted to and other times he could be completely ignorant.

“It really worries you, doesn’t it.” He nodded towards my head.

“No, Harper, it’s every girls’ dream to lose all her hair.”

“What about a wig?” he offered.

“I tried one. It was uncomfortable and made my skin itch.” I flicked down the sun visor and scrutinized my face in the small mirror there. The darkness that had settled under my eyes wasn’t so heavy today, but the girl who stared back still wasn’t the Bree I knew. “I just wish my eyebrows hadn’t of disappeared. I look like an alien.” I sighed. I could see the disapproving shake of Harper’s head.

“You look like same ol’ beautiful Breeze to me, but if it really worries you I might know someone who can help out, with the eyebrows not the hair on your head.” That did stir my interest. Harper grabbed his phone, set it to speaker and scrolled through his contacts before selecting one. The phone rang a few times before a perky female’s voice answered.

“Oceans Tattoo Studio, Chantelle speaking.” The voice rubbed on my nerves, it was too perky and I imagined it belonging to a drop dead gorgeous busty blonde. That was Harper’s female of choice. He was a breast man, the bigger the better. Stylish blonde locks and big lips with plenty of makeup were merely a perk.

“Hey, Chantelle, it’s Harper here.”

“Harper, wow, how are you doing?” Chantelle sounded way too happy to hear from Harper and it made my body tremble with jealousy. I had carefully avoided Harper’s girlfriends over the years. Apart from Naomi, he had never brought girls home and he never had long-term girlfriends. Naomi was the closest he had come to a relationship. Just thinking about her made my stomach flip with distaste.

“Not bad, is Lacey there today?” Harper said unaffected by the too sweet, too eager voice.

“Oh, um yeah, she’s here.” Chantelle seemed disappointed and I mentally fist pumped the air.

“She got any free time if I bring a friend in?”

“Sure, she has a gap at eleven.”

“Awesome, I’ll see her then. Thanks, Chantelle.” 

I eyed Harper suspiciously. “You are going to fix my hair problems with a tattoo?”

Harper shrugged and kept driving in silence. I didn’t probe, I knew Harper could be stubbornly cryptic if he wanted to. I grabbed my own phone and flicked on the camera, pointing it at Harper.

“Smile and wave hello.” He did.

“For George?” he asked.

“No, Mia. I thought I’d document our road trip with photos and stuff and send them to her. She’s stuck in that damn hospital all bored, she can live vicariously through me this time. Maybe when she is feeling up to it we can do a girl’s only road trip.” I typed a short message to Mia.

BREE: Harper has kidnapped me. We R road trippin’ to goodness knows where. What u doin’?

A return message chimed moments later.

MIA: What a sexy kidnapper, lucky u. I’m gonna go hang in the chemo chair. Yay me! Got my Pink tho, so all good.

I cringed, the chemo chair was boring as hell.

BREE: Well, give the chair a hug from me and tell him I don’t miss him one little bit. Take care Miss Mia. X

MIA: You too, say hi to Harper

“So, when do you leave for Hawaii?”  I murmured, realizing Harper still hadn’t answered my earlier question. Harper just shrugged which irritated me. “I know the event kicks off on December eighth, so I’m assuming you fly out around the fifth? Sixth?”  I urged. When he still didn’t answer me I began to feel a familiar surge of anger bubbling from deep within. “Stop bloody well ignoring me you dipshidiot!” Now he grinned and that irked me too.

“Dipshidiot, nice!” He held out his hand to high five me and I left him hanging.

“Damn you, Harper, how about another rule for this road trip, no lies or secrets.” He raised a brow at that and finally sighed in resignation, lowering his hand back to the steering wheel.

“I need to fly out by the fifth. But,” he looked my way pointedly, “I will only go to Pipeline if you come with me.” My jaw dropped open and I tried to say something, laugh, anything, but the sound was trapped deep down inside me, leaving me utterly muted and confused. “You’ll catch flies like that,” Harper chuckled.

“Why?” The word came out a little manic and high-pitched. Harper had never sought my presence at a single event ever and for the first time I realized that reality hurt. Maybe he really didn’t want me there? He was most likely embarrassed by me. Was this a pity invite? In that instant the overwhelming voice of pessimism reared its ugly head. It had been pleasantly absent but was now back with a vengeance. Perhaps Harper thought I wasn’t good enough to be a part of his world, that world, maybe he liked the separation the tour gave him, time away from me and my boring life. Admittedly I had never asked to go and made it perfectly clear the tour wasn’t my scene, but, at the same time, he had never invited me, never pushed to have me at his side before now. Suddenly Harper’s rule echoed through the back of my mind. No negativity, I had to speak the opposite, out loud! Could I? Would I dare? I would sound like an idiot. Then again, Harper’s methods to break me from my shell of depression had worked so far. Taking a deep breath I began to murmur the words, barely a whisper on my lips.

“I am good enough, he does want me there, I am pretty and I’m definitely not boring.” My mind rattled off the list of opposite emotions that were crushing me. I felt the tears building in my eyes and my vision became a watery blur. Harper’s strong hands on my cheeks, turning my head his way caught my attention. As the tears began to fall, my vision cleared. He had stopped the car and pulled safely off the road, his worried eyes watched me cautiously.

“Louder, Breeze,” he demanded in a voice that commanded obedience. I wanted to ignore him. I wanted to demand he turn around, drive me home and let me wallow in my room, in the cocoon of my blankets. “Again,” he growled.

“I am good enough, you do want me there, I am pretty, and I’m definitely not boring.” I pretty much screamed it at him, tears running down my face.

“Damn straight.” The determination and conviction in his voice made something within me shift. The anger and negativity bled away and I was left feeling uncomfortably vulnerable.

“I can’t do this,” I whispered. Harper’s gaze turned tender, one of his hands wrapped around the back of my neck, the other held my cheek keeping my eyes on his.

“You can and you will. I’m not going anywhere, baby girl. We’re in this together from now on.” The power of his words filled me with a strength that had long been missing from my life. “How can you think I don’t want you there with me? Breeze, you are the only girl I have ever wanted there and the only one who never came. It would have broken my heart except I knew how uncomfortable that part of my life made you. You hate all that pretentious bullshit but I want to show you it isn’t all like that. I want you to see that part of my life, I want you there with me Breeze and I won’t surf another damn wave if you aren’t there to watch me.” He wiped away my tears and I nodded. “And you are the fucking most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen, trust me on that. I wasn’t thrilled about leaving you behind and travelling on my own, but at least it kept you away from all the horny bastards that I know will go absolutely insane when they see you.” I took a deep breath and gave Harper a slight nod. I may not have entirely believed him in that moment, but I wasn’t about to argue.

Harper eventually pulled the Jeep back on to the highway and we approached the exit for Byron Bay, our first stop. I was still feeling a little teary for no good reason, but the savage weight of depression that had clung to me for the last few months was not as heavy. And I had the feeling it was Harper Somerville chasing away the evil sorrow that had tried to claim me.

Chapter 6

The Face

The unbroken part of a wave; often smooth, glassy and clear

Oceans Ink Tattoo Studio was a large establishment settled right in the center of Byron Bay. This wasn’t the first tattoo studio I had been in. Harper had dragged me along to more than a few of the sessions etched into his skin. I had been at his side when he was just seventeen years old and getting his first tattoo, an intricate pattern of thick black lines and swirls that created a picture of waves sitting below a setting sun. Sitting on his bicep it was abstract yet clearly identifiable. Shades of grey and black covered his arms and back with tribal patterns and skulls. Impressive, but they didn’t contain the heartfelt passion that his first tattoo did.  So even though the sounds and smells of this tattoo studio were familiar, I was still a little nervous. Harper thankfully took my hand as we wandered through the front doors, the constant harsh buzzing of tattoo guns filled the large open space. Four men sat with their heads down, tattoo guns in hand, insults flying back and forth. The men being tattooed sat stoically nonchalant, pretending to show no signs of the discomfort I had no doubt they were in. Harper once told me if someone says getting a tattoo doesn’t hurt then they were full of shit. He described the sensation as someone slicing a knife into your skin and drawing blood. Imagine that constant sensation for a few hours non-stop! If Harper thought he was getting my lilywhite skin inked today, he had another thing coming.

The first of the tattooist glanced our way and, as soon as he noticed Harper, a wide grin spread over his face.

“Somerville! How’s it been man?” Every other head in the place suddenly swung around to take us in and I wished the floor would open right then and swallow me.

“All good, Yoshi, how’s Riah doing?” The Asian man grinned a cheeky grin.