Sixteen
Lola
My heart beat a little harder when I saw Justice waiting for me in the early morning light. He leaned against Papaw’s classic VW van, arms crossed, his T-shirt fitting snugly over his muscled chest, hair messy, a grin on his handsome face.
“Can I help you with that?” He grabbed my suitcase and placed it into the back of the van. “You pack light. I like it.”
Papaw emerged from the shop gripping a steaming mug of coffee. He held my hand. “Come here a sec.” He led me to the back of the van. “Like it? The girls helped.”
White ribbons and bows had been affixed to the back of the immaculately kept turquoise and white van. A festive “Just Married” sign hung amid the frippery, announcing our connubial bliss to the world.
I narrowed my eyes but inside my heart performed a happy dance. “Did Bobbie and Ginger talk you into this?”
He raised his cup in a toast. “They did. Only the best for my favorite granddaughter-in-law.” His eyes softened. “Thanks for doing this. It means a lot.”
“Whatever I can do to help. Besides, I need a vacation.”
Papaw clapped Justice on the back. “Take good care of this classy woman.” He wagged a finger. “And take good care of the van. I’ll see you guys at the contest.”
We bid our goodbyes and were off.
The plan was to make the drive to the town of Knight’s Ferry, nearly five-hundred miles away, and practice at epic surf spots along the way. The contest began in less than three weeks, so we needed to pack in as much training as possible.
Justice cranked the music.
“You still listen to that ‘60s stuff?” I said.
He gave me a crooked grin. “There’ll never be another Jim Morrison.” His long fingers beat out the tune on the steering wheel as he sang along.
“Makes me feel like I’m riding my bike,” he said. His hand brushed my thigh, and an electric charge jolted through me, making my toes tingle. “Just you, me, and the open road.”
As we drove, I couldn’t take my eyes off of Justice. Jeez. The man had grown into a sex god. His strong jaw had the most alluring two-day beard and every now and then he’d do this sexy thing where he’d drag his hand through his hair, shake his head, and belt out the tune. Justice had a fantastically decent singing voice—low and gravelly for the deep parts and high pitched for the high notes.
I watched, mesmerized, as he belted out the lyrics loud and unselfconsciously. He gave me a devilish wink. “Sing with me!”
Justice’s enthusiasm was infectious, and I joined in tentatively at first and before I knew it, I was singing for all I was worth.
We stopped for drive-through breakfast, bathroom breaks at various rest stops, and I finally started to relax. This would be okay. We were old friends. That’s all. We would make it through the next few weeks together, and it would all be over. I could do this. But, my body was in high gear, nervous about spending the night with him.
My fingernails tapped out a nervous rhythm on the console. “So … have you made reservations anywhere?”
He stared straight ahead. “Nope.” He used the steering wheel as a drum set. “Figured we’d just play it by ear.”
“Is that how you live your life? Just play it by ear?”
“Makes things interesting.”
We’d hit so much traffic that it took longer than usual to crawl up the coast. Finally, he swung the van into the parking lot of a beach near San Luis Obispo. “Ready to paddle out?”
I leaned forward and shook out my tight muscles. “I cannot wait.”
We clambered out of the van and readied ourselves, pulling on wetsuits and working in harmony as we waxed our boards.
“Tandem training starts bright and early tomorrow,” Justice said. “Meanwhile let’s flex those surfing muscles.”
“Aye, captain.”
We paddled out to the lineup under a warm California sun, and the chilly water hit my skin making me shiver with delight. Justice paddled next to me, his strokes powerful and sure.
We caught a few and Justice and I were in sync just like always. I fantasized about what it would be like to win. We’d stand close and hold the trophy high over our heads. The whole world would see that we were the number-one tandem surfers. After the one session we’d had on the tandem board my confidence in our abilities skyrocketed.
I mentally went through the scoring process. The judges would total our two highest scoring waves. We’d have to beat the competition with a higher score, and the judges take into consideration surfing style to tally the final result.
But the scoring was the least of my worries. I couldn’t stop thinking about tonight. Justice and I would be alone together for the first time. In a motel room.
We surfed for about an hour and were taking a break in the lineup between sets.
“Are you nervous about the contest?” I asked.
“Nah. I’ve got you as my partner.” Justice looked at me with such intensity that I was reminded of all the times he’d gazed at me and told me he loved me.
“You really think we’ve got a decent chance?”
He grinned. “We’re going to win.” He eyed the horizon. “Come on, Lola. Let’s catch a few more and head to the motel. I can show you my real talents.”
Why did he seem intent on teasing me? Did he not get it that we were not an item? “Shut up.” The next wave rolled toward me, and I whipped my board around. I caught the breaker before he could see the heat that had traveled to my face. Dang it. If this were a fantasy world, I’d screw Justice’s brains out no questions asked and enter that delicious world of sexual bliss that only Justice could provide. I’d never forgotten the way his hands felt on my ass as he slid into my pulsating pussy, his blue eyes gazing into mine until we both came in an earth-shattering orgasm.
But this was reality.
A bizarre, alternate universe reality.
Everything we had was temporary and fake.
We ended our session, pulled off wetsuits, stowed our boards, and clambered back into the van.
We drove alongside the glittering expanse of the Pacific and I inhaled the refreshing ocean air, smiling. I looked over the dramatic cliff, watching the seagulls swooping overhead as the sun made its slow descent into the sea.
Justice was right. I did need a vacation. All I did was work at the bank, create more bathing suit designs, and now and then, go on a pathetic date with some wannabe surfer who could never keep up with me.
Eventually, Justice took a sharp right onto a cracked asphalt parking lot. He patted the dashboard. “Home, sweet home.”
I laughed when I took in the modest motel screaming for a fresh coat of paint. “The Seaside Inn,” a faded blue and white sign announced.
“You sure know how to treat a lady,” I said.
“You wait here. I’ll get us the honeymoon suite.” He twirled the keychain and jogged away.
Justice returned with a grin and opened the passenger’s door of the van with a flourish and a bow. “After you, my bride.”
We were directed to cabin number seven by a woman who looked like she’d been weaned on a dill pickle—until she found out we were on our honeymoon. Her hands flew to ruddy cheeks. “Well! We haven’t had newlyweds in ages. I’ll bring over a cheese plate. Congratulations you two!”
Before I had a chance to protest, Justice picked me up easily in his firm grip. My long hair flew forward, tickling his face. He looked into my eyes. “Custom says I get to carry you over the threshold.”
“Put me down!” He whirled me around, and his powerful arms cradled me as my heart sped up. I stared into his electric blue eyes and forced a deep, steadying breath.
“Over the threshold you go.”
The door closed, he set me down, and we were alone.