Page 5 of Crashing Into You

“Ocean’s Curl are one of the brands who were tagged, and they’re pissed. You’d better be ready to do some serious ass-kissing when you go to their store next week. Sign some stuff, happy families, chat to the kids, do fucking cartwheels around the shop if that’s what they want you to do. You can’t afford to lose that sponsorship, especially because then it’ll make everyone else start to question whether they feel like putting up with your shit. You’re not the only good surfer in the world. So show up, take some promo shots while you’re there, and play nice. You think you can manage to stay out of someone’s bed between now and then? Or if you can’t, to at least keep it quiet?”

“Yeah. I can do that.” I’m stung at his reference to other surfers. I know I’m good, but I’m also aware I’m not the only one. I don’t need reminding.

“Oh, and if you can manage to get yourself a nice girlfriend at some point soon, that wouldn’t hurt, either.”

I huff out a laugh. “Yeah. Maybe don’t push things.”

I hang up without saying goodbye.

He’s right, I guess. This trip was meant for checking in with Mum, not for partying. But I’ve only been back a couple of days and I don’t think it’s going to matter if I unwind here before heading to see her. I check my phone, feeling oddly irritated. There are no messages, thank fuck. None from today, anyway. Mum knows I’m here and that I’m coming to see her. I quickly type something, but pause before I send it, my finger hovering over the button.

“Screw it.” I close my phone down without sending it. There is shit to deal with, but not tonight. Tonight, I need a drink.

ChapterThree

Claire

“Holy shit, is that Bryce Maylands?”

Joss, sitting opposite me, puts her drink down, eyes wide.

I’m mid-sip of my second cocktail and having a pretty good evening so far. But at her words my stomach sinks. Surely the universe wouldn’t screw with me like this.

Like I say, so far it’s been a great evening. I managed to score a taxi to the pub, which is full of people yelling and laughing and drinking, spilling out onto the patio area along one side of the building. My friends were waiting for me, already a couple of drinks in, and I’m doing my best to catch up.

“Bryce Maylands is a surfer.” Sal, sitting next to me, leans in, seemingly thinking she’s being helpful.

“He’s not just a surfer; he’s a fucking sex god.” Joss is still staring over my shoulder. She licks her lips. “Maybe tonight will be my lucky night.”

“I know who he is,” I mutter.

“You do?” Sal giggles. “That’s unlike you.” Both Sal and Joss think it’s hilarious that I’ve chosen to live in a surf community but have no interest in surfing. I actually think surfing itself is pretty awesome. It’s the crap around it I don’t like.

So, if Bryce Maylands, in all his green-eyed glory, has decided to show up here with his entourage of giggling girls, I’m not interested in seeing him. Not at all.

“Yeah. What’s the deal? You finally coming around to surfer boys? You might actually pop that cherry of yours if you do, you know.” Sal and Joss also think it’s hilarious that I’m still a virgin, though they don’t give me too much of a hard time about it. They know me and my history too well for that.

“No,” I say, more forcefully than I mean to. “He came into the shop today.”

“And asked you to meet him at the pub?” Joss looks hopeful.

I burst out laughing. “No. Not in the slightest. I doubt he’d want to have a drink with someone who called him an asshole.”

Sal and Joss both squeal, Sal spitting out some of her drink. “You didwhat?”

“Oh god, I know.” My cheeks prickle with heat as I tell them what happened. I’d been so busy catching up on their news I hadn’t had the chance yet. I also kind of tried to put it out of my mind, to be honest, wanting to just enjoy my evening and not think about work. But now bloody Bryce Maylands has to show up here and spoil everything.

Sal can’t stop laughing. “You are one harsh bitch, Claire,” she splutters. I know she means it with love. “I can’t believe you did that.”

“What if he complains to Anna? I can’t lose my job.”

“He doesn’t seem the type to complain,” Joss says. “But maybe you should go and apologise. And then introduce us. I wouldn’t mind a piece of him,” she continues. “I mean, come on. Look at the guy.”

I chance a look over my shoulder. Bryce is leaning against the bar, dressed in a blue Ocean’s Curl T-shirt and boardies. And he’s looking right at me. Shit. I turn back quickly, taking a long sip of my drink. “I amnotgoing over there,” I hiss. “Are you kidding me?”

“Ladies.” Aaron from behind the bar appears next to our table, a tray of drinks in his hand. He puts three more cocktails on the table.

“We didn’t order these,” I say. “Thanks, though.”