Page 10 of Crashing Into You

“Oh, I couldn’t!” Her hand comes to her mouth, ocean eyes widening again. I could lose myself in those depths. “I don’t even go swimming, really.”

“You live down here and you don’t swim?”

She shrugs. “I love the ocean. But there’s something about being out of my depth I don’t like.”

“Even if someone is there with you?” A fierce protective urge comes over me. “Someone who knows the water?”

“I don’t know. Maybe?” She flashes those blue eyes at me again. “I’ve never tried that.”

“That settles it, then. You’re coming for a swim with me. Let me show you how beautiful this place is when you see it from the ocean.”

“A swim with you?” She arches one eyebrow, her mouth curving at the corner. Christ. I want to take her outside, under the whispering gum trees, and kiss her until neither of us can stand. Which is the opposite of moving slowly. So I change tactics.

“Yeah. Unless you’re scared, of course.”

“Scared?” Her chin lifts, but there’s a glint of laughter in her eyes.

“Yeah. So, what do you say? You in, or you chicken?” I’m taking a gamble here. But I saw how she was with the girls in the shop, how she was with me. This girl is fierce when she wants to be. Hopefully she likes a challenge.

It seems she does. “No chickens here,” she says, her gaze narrowing slightly. “Name your time and I’ll be there.”

“Fairhaven beach. Just by the surf club. Tomorrow morning. Eleven?”

“Ten, and you have a deal,” she says, all defiance. It’s a fucking turn on. Everything about her has my body humming, to be honest.

But before I can talk her into coming outside with me, Kylie returns, bringing Matt and Claire’s two friends with her.

“Thought we’d come and join you two. Unless you want to be alone, of course,” she says, with a wicked glance at me. I turn to Claire but she’s already talking to her friends. She catches my eye though, and to my surprise, winks at me.

Damn. I want this girl.

Claire

The house is quiet when I let myself in just after midnight. It always is, I suppose, except for the distant roar of the ocean, the rustling sigh of the gum trees.

Most of the time I don’t mind. But tonight it feels lonely, as though it’s waiting for someone else to arrive, to be lived in properly again. I still can’t get over the evening I’ve had. It was supposed to be a few drinks with friends, but instead I feel shaken from head to toe. And it’s all down to one person.

Bryce Maylands.

He made sure we all got home safely, somehow arranging several taxis, hugging me in the parking lot before leaving with Kylie and Matt. I didn’t even know who he was this morning, and now not only do I have some sort of swimming date with him tomorrow, but I’ve kissed him as well.

And he kissed me back. Pleasure thrums through me again at the memory of being in his arms, of feeling those abs pressed against me, his full lips teasing mine.

I haven’t kissed a lot of boys, to be honest. Or girls. Or anyone, really. I was kind of a late bloomer in high school, then, when I finally got to the point where I actually started kissing people, my whole life fell apart. Romance went on the back burner for a while, pretty much until I met Simon. Who, if I’m being honest, wasn’t the best kisser.

Quite the opposite of Bryce.

I make myself tea and wander out to the deck, leaning on the balustrade. The ocean is dark, pale lines of foam gleaming under the pale moonlight, the distant sparkle of Lorne against the undulating headlands. Is it sad that the best kiss I’ve ever had was with a random guy at a bar? And that it was also essentially a lie to get me out of a bad situation? It feels a bit pathetic when I think about it like that.

But Bryce feels anything but random. Ever since he walked into the shop, I feel as though we’re on some sort of collision course, like we were meant to meet. Maybe it’s weird, maybe it’s me clutching at straws, but there’s a connection between us I can’t deny. I sip my tea, blushing at the memory of pulling his head to mine. He was a good sport to go along with it; I’ll have to remember to thank him again when I see him in the morning.

Fuck. The morning. I sink down into one of the cushioned lounge chairs. What was I thinking, agreeing to go swimming with him? I obviously had one cocktail too many. I groan, dropping my head in my hands. I wasn’t lying when I said I love the ocean. I do, otherwise I wouldn’t be living here. But he is literally a professional surfer, and I’m someone who barely likes to go hip-deep in the waves. Maybe when he sees how terrible I am at swimming he’ll agree to do something else. Or maybe he’ll be happy to let me wait on the beach while he goes in.

But there was such challenge– and humour– in his voice that I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of letting him know I was scared. So I pushed back, liquid courage and the remnants of that kiss burning through me.

Ten, and you have a deal.

And then I winked at him. Oh god.