Rough Waters (4 page)

“Don’t beat yourself up over it,” A.J. says.
“You tried. We’ll know the verdict tomorrow. Colby may live like a
hermit, but when he’s pissed, everyone knows.”

That’s exactly what I fear. I don’t want to
wake up in the morning and have Hurricane Colby breaking down the
walls of the condo so he can sweep me away in his fury.

“I shouldn’t have talked him into reconciling
with them,” I say.

I pick up my cell phone and stare at the
wallpaper for a while, knowing if I dial his number, I’ll just get
to listen to his voicemail for a sixth time.

A.J. stands up. “It’s not your fault,” he
says. “Vin sent you. Blame him. I’m starving. Let’s go find
something to eat. I think Reed’s already bought groceries this
week.”

I follow him through the connector between
the guest house and the condo. Alston leans back against the
kitchen island while Reed talks with his hands. I catch Colby’s
name and mention of a lawyer before Alston turns and sees us.

“Hello East Coast!” he shouts before grabbing
me in a hug. “When the hell did you get here? And why didn’t anyone
tell me?”

Reed shrugs. “You were busy,” he says. “And
then, you know, we sort of got caught up in the Colby Taylor
mess…again.”

A.J. pushes past them and digs through the
refrigerator. He turns back with a pack of strawberries and a
bottle of Corona. He sits on a barstool and ignores us while Reed
finishes giving Alston the details of what went down earlier
today.

“Damn,” Alston says. “Does Vin know about the
lawyer? You know Colby won’t tell him.”

“Vin doesn’t know anything,” I say. “I really
don’t think we should tell him. It’ll just make things worse. Maybe
once Colby talks to his parents, they’ll change their minds, and
this won’t turn into the disaster we’re expecting.”

Alston laughs. “Haley, Haley. Always the
optimist. We’ve been at this Colby Taylor game a little bit longer
than you. If you’re expecting a tropical storm, it’s going to be a
hurricane. It only gets worse when Taylor’s involved, which is why
we’ve found new friends.”

A smile sweeps Reed’s face. My stomach
clenches like a fist at the mention of new friends. Whoever these
new guys are, they obviously hang out with two of my three
roommates, and I dread the moment when I’m forced to meet them.

“Joke’s over,” A.J. says before he swigs his
beer. “Stop playing with her head.”

A.J. grabs Alston’s phone from the counter
and scrolls through it for a moment before handing it to me.

“These are their new friends,” A.J. says. “I
took this one.”

The picture is of Alston, Reed, Kale, Topher,
and Miles on shores of Horn Island. The collapsed pier sits in the
background.

“Your new friends are my old friends,” I
say.

“Way to ruin the fun, A.J.,” Reed says.

I study how Alston and Kale have their arms
around each other like best friends. It doesn’t shock me. They’re
both flirty beach bums who think they’re the world’s gift to
females. They should’ve started hanging out a long time ago.

There’s no way they can let this slip to the
Hooligans. If one of them knows, they’ll all know. I can’t afford
for Topher to find out and leak the info to Vin.

“This has to stay with the four of us for
now,” I say. “No Hooligans. It’d spread like an STD, and Vin
doesn’t need to catch it.”

A.J. laughs from behind his strawberries. But
Reed keeps a serious face.

“You’re right,” Reed says. “If Vin finds out,
it’ll just blow up worse than it already has. He hates Taylor as it
is. You handle Colby, and we’ll just keep it under wraps.”

I reach over and steal a strawberry from A.J.
and tell the guys I’m going to call it a night. Driving for two
days is exhausting, and I haven’t even unpacked. I retreat to my
room in the guest house, unpack the essentials, and hang Solomon
back in the bay window. I’m not sure if he’ll bring any good vibes
to me this time around, but it’s worth a try. I feel like I need it
now even more than I did last summer.

I wake up to my phone buzzing against the
nightstand. It’s too early in the morning to deal with anyone or
anything. I feel around until the vibrations land under my hand and
jerk the phone free from the charger. Topher’s name flashes across
the screen.

“Hello?” I say, trying to sound awake.

“Were you seriously still asleep?” he asks.
“Do you know what time it is?”

I force myself to turn over. The morning
light bleeds into the bedroom, but there’s no a hint of sunshine.
No pink or purple hues. Just a faint blue light behind the
curtains.

“Is the sun even up yet?” I ask.

“No,” Topher says. “I guess I’m just used to
getting up to surf.”

And to call me, apparently. I don’t know why
he has to get up with the sunrise. I get it – it’s a surfer thing –
but it’s not like he has to beat the crowds to the lineup. No one
surfs in Horn Island but the Hooligans.

“Are you coming to the store this morning?
For the meeting?” he asks. “I figure Vin told you about it, but
he’s so wrapped up in Drenaline stuff that he hardly talks to me
these days.”

Vin hardly talks to
me
these days. I
thought he’d call last night, after all the chaos died down. I
thought maybe he’d swing by and check in or at least check the
fluids under the hood of my car. And if not that, he’d call to see
if I had any updates on Colby.

But the only person in the Brooks family who
seems to know my phone number is Topher. I don’t know what the
meeting is for or about, but I decide to pretend like I do.

“Yeah, I’ll be there,” I say into the phone.
“What time is the meeting again?”

“He told Miles and me to be there at eight,
so if you want, you can just meet me in the back parking lot a few
minutes before,” Topher says. “See you then, yeah?”

“Yeah,” I say. “See you then.”

After spending another half hour tossing and
turning, I realize there’s no chance of falling back asleep. I get
up, shower, and throw myself together just enough to look like I
have a little bit of life in me. Then I head for the kitchen.
Reed’s Jeep is already gone. Alston sits shirtless in the kitchen
when I walk in.

“Morning,” he says, a bit too chipper for
sunrise hours. “Reed went down to the bakery. He’ll be back in a
few, though.”

I just nod and slide onto the barstool next
to him. It’s awkward, really. I didn’t have much to say to Alston
last summer. He was just good for keeping Linzi out of my way while
I continued digging skeletons out of everyone’s closets. Now that
we’re roommates and I don’t have Linzi, I really don’t know how to
deal with Alston.

He doesn’t say anything else and pays more
attention to whomever he is texting. A minute later, he laughs and
hands me his phone.

Kale: Surf later?

Alston: Sounds good. Waiting on breakfast!
Haley’s with me.

Kale: She doesn’t know what she’s
missing!

And there it is – shirtless Kale waving the
shaka, sticking out his tongue. He must think this whole tongue-out
expression looks good on him.

“So is Kale your new BFF?” I ask, handing
Alston his phone.

Alston shrugs but half-nods. “We hang out a
lot,” he says. “Miles is always training, and Topher goes
everywhere with him. Theo and Jace work, so Kale started coming
around more. I don’t know why we didn’t hang out before.”

Reed comes in through the kitchen door with a
bag from Crescent Cove Bakery. He puts the bag on the counter and
goes back to his Jeep for coffee. He’s already dressed in his
Strickland’s Boating shirt and a pair of khakis.

“Soy latte,” he says, handing the cup to
Alston. “And vanilla frappe for the girl,” he says. “Please tell me
I remembered that correctly.”

Yes, Strick is still the perfect housewife. I
nod, grab the frappe, and snatch a cheese biscuit from the bag
before Alston wakes A.J. I’ve never lived in a house of boys
before, but I’m pretty sure if I don’t eat while it’s there, I
won’t eat at all.

“Let A.J. know I’m at Drenaline Surf if he
needs me,” I tell them. “Topher said there’s some big business
meeting going on this morning. If Colby shows, maybe I can
intervene before Vin gets to him.”

Topher sits on his tailgate waxing a
surfboard when I pull up next to him. He tosses the board aside and
walks over to my car. He opens the door before I have a chance.

“Sorry I woke you up this morning,” he says.
“I wasn’t thinking. I forget that people actually sleep past
sunrise. I’m glad you came. I hate my brother.”

He says everything in one breath. Nothing
really matters, though, except that last sentence.

“Why do you hate Vin?” I ask. I lock the car
behind me and slip my phone into my pocket.

Topher sits back on his tailgate and motions
me to sit next to him. He slides his board between us and picks up
where he left off with the surf wax. He doesn’t say anything for a
minute, like he’s deep in thought. It’s weird to sit in silence
with him. He’s been blowing up my phone for the last year. He
always has something to say.

“He signed Logan Riley this morning,” he
says. He turns and chucks the bar of wax behind us. It hits the
back glass and falls against the metal bed. “I knew he wanted to,
eventually, but I just thought he’d sign me first. I’m his
brother
. Shark wanted me to be Drenaline’s first surfer, but
he signed Colby because I was too young. Colby was practice to make
sure Shark knew what to do and not to do with me. I was supposed to
be Drenaline Surf’s star surfer.”

Vin was so excited when he first told me
about Logan last summer. Logan was the answer to all of his
prayers. Logan was going to be the nice guy Vin always wanted to
represent Drenaline Surf, the polar opposite of Colby and a cleaner
image than Miles.

I take a deep breath and try to come up with
a line that Topher might believe, but he’s not stupid. He knows
anything I say is just something to make him feel better. He knows
that I want him riding for Drenaline Surf more than I’d want any
surfer in the world to ride for them. Topher deserves it more than
anyone else.

“I’m sorry,” I say. “It should’ve been
you.”

“Exactly,” Topher says, standing up and
pushing his surfboard into the bed of his truck. “It should’ve been
me, but Vin expects me to go in there and smile and be all ‘nice
guy’ about the whole damn thing.”

I stand up and push the tailgate up behind
me. “Where’s Miles?”

Topher nods toward Drenaline Surf. “Meeting
Logan, welcoming him to the ‘Drenaline Surf family,’ because you
know, Miles is part of this whole deal too even though
I
taught him how to surf in the first place.”

He kicks at a rock in the parking lot and
fixates his gaze on the pavement, but the disappointment reflects
in his bright blue eyes. I wish I could drain the sadness from his
face and toss it overboard to be lost at sea forever.

“I can’t go in there,” he says. “I’m
just…not. I don’t care if Vin gets pissed. I know it’s selfish, but
I’m sick of it being about everyone but me.”

I reach out and pull Topher to me. I wrap him
up in a hug and rest my head against his chest. I swear, he really
is taller than he was last summer. He’s still the same hyper sugar
cube addict, but there’s something a little more solemn about him,
a bit more serious. It’s like he’s starved for something he isn’t
getting, malnourished in the realm of life experience.

“One day it’ll be all about you,” I assure
him. “And every day after that will be about you, and I plan on
being there for every single day of it, okay?”

He squeezes me and mumbles something about
‘not soon enough.’ I wish today could be his day instead of Logan’s
day. I wish that had been Topher’s name typed onto that contract.
We should be celebrating his sponsorship, not one of an outsider
who I haven’t even met.

A rumbling engine interrupts my inner angst.
I pull myself away from Topher’s chest and look around for the
roaring vehicle. Colby’s black truck whips around and parks at an
angle in what I’m sure isn’t even a parking space. He slams the
door behind him and ignores us across the parking lot as he heads
toward Drenaline Surf.

“You better go,” Topher says. “Colby’s going
to be as pissed as I am, but he’s not going to hide it. And since
he’s not home, that means no one is surfing behind his house, so
that’s where I’ll be if you need me. But don’t tell Vin where I
am.”

I hate leaving Topher behind when he’s upset.
It’s rare to see him so down. But I nod and follow Colby’s
footsteps.

Colby lingers outside of Drenaline Surf,
under the giant wave hovering over the entrance. He studies his
cell phone but looks up when I approach him.

“I told you,” he says, jabbing a finger
toward me. “I told you they were here to ruin me. Why the hell did
you have to get in my head and try to convince me that this might
be a good thing?”

Umm. Good morning to you too, Surf Star. I
glance into the store and catch a glimpse of Miles’s dreadlocks.
Letting Colby go inside isn’t an option right now. The Strip is
dead at this hour of the morning, so I grab his arm and drag him
down the sidewalk with me, past the closed vendor stands.

“Look, I’m sorry,” I say. “I didn’t know they
were here on a get-rich mission. When I found out last night, I
tried to call you, but I got voice-mailed every time. But don’t you
dare accuse me of getting in your head. You’re the only one in
there, so don’t try to redirect the blame.”

He leans back against the wooden shack that
reads Fresh Fruit. The sign is decorated with painted watermelons
and lemons. He shakes his hair out of his eyes, still damp from his
early morning surf. Then he shields his eyes from the sun.

“I tried,” he says. “I really tried. I sat
down with them, apologized for putting them through hell, and then
I tried to explain –
calmly
– why I ran away.”