Page 135 of Bring You Back

“Camille. Enjoying herself,” he says, feigning shock. I roll my eyes as he starts to push himself off the board. “I should get a reward for that.”

“You might,” I say, and he pauses mid-push up at the suggestion in my threat. I look out at the water with a soft laugh at how hard he’s trying to restrain himself. The annoyance of still having to wait for him to do something creeps in, and I’m the first to stand, back to business.

“You’re kidding, right? You’re teaching her to surf?”

We both halt at the accusation in Reyna’s voice, then we turn to her. She eyes Julian like she’s caught him cheating. Unfortunately, she hasn’t caughtanything. In her mind, she has, though he already put an end to their summer fling. What’s Julian going to say?It’s not what it looks like?

By the guilty look he’s now giving her, that’s exactly what he’s going to say, and it’s suddenly not hard to put two and two together.

SurfingplusteachingequalsReyna’s hurt feelings.

Julian most likely had taught her to surf on his own time, and now he’s teaching me. This was their thing, and Julian’s now betraying her by making it ours, too.

“Reyna—”

She cuts him off with a scoff before stalking back up the beach, sand flying in all directions from her shoes.That’ll be a mess later.

I eye Julian, the mess ofnow, and his eyes are still on her. I don’t see any regret on his face for being here with me. I do see a need to explain, to absolve himself of whatever he’s done wrong.

We’re on the clock. Specificallymyclock. The sooner he lifts her from her downward spiral, the sooner we can finish this damn lesson.

“Go,” I say.

Julian

I go, taking off through the sand to reach Reyna. I would’ve gone after her without Camille’s go ahead, because this is one thing I need to and can fix, but her understanding of why I’d be taking off lets me narrow my focus on the one girl I can’t seem to stop hurting. I catch up to Reyna at the grass and slide in front of her, stopping us before I’d have to trek barefoot on asphalt. Damp soles, sand stuck in my toes, more speed than normal walking? Yeah, that’s not happening.

“You said it wasn’t about her.” She dives right in, which I was prepared for her to do, but it’s this choice of words that throws me.

“How?” I wonder aloud, irritation coming through my confusion. “I’m just teaching her to surf. How does your brain lop that in with you and me being about Camille?”

Her faces falls with disappointment, her eyes seeming to ask why I don’t get her, why it’s so hard for me to get this. I know I’m already being a dick. I open my mouth to start the apologies, but she speaks first, and any sorry I would’ve said is forgotten.

“Iasked you to teach me to surf. Over and over. And you always saidno. Now you’re teaching Camille something you’ve always turned me down for.” She emphasizes each word, drawing out her explanation and talking slow like I’m too dumb to comprehend otherwise, and I guess I deserve that.

But it still pisses me off. So, before I can stop myself, I offer up my own explanation, saying the words just as slowly. “It’s for my job.”

“You still could’ve told her no,” she argues, my reasoning going right over her head.

“No, I couldn’t have,” I stress.

“Yes, you could have,” she stresses back, more emphasis, like she knows all about my job and how it works. She might not, but she knows about me and how I work. I could’ve said no if I’d really wanted to. “Would you have told her no if it wasn’t for your job?” she asks for clarification, and I groan through another wave of irritation.

“Fuck, Reyna, just—”

“I came to see you,” she cuts in. “When it should beyoucoming to seeme. And then I find this.” She gestures back at the beach, her eyes wide on mine, and all the while, I’m trying to get control of my breathing. “You’re not supposed to make me feel like I don’t matter to you.”

“What else am I not supposed to be doing? Huh?” I explode, pausing for just a second. “Fine. If teaching you to surf will somehow prove you matter to me, then stand by, and we’ll go when I’m finished with her.”

Crack.

My head jolts against her palm, but this slap is not as hard, doesn’t hurt as much. I still work my jaw, my teeth coming together in a clench. Her hand’s shaking, and she tucks it to her chest, under her folding arms, hiding it from my eyes.

“I’m not sorry for that one,” she states, trying to steady her voice through the tears filling her eyes.

She moves past me, and I stop her with a hand around her arm. She faces me, her frustrated features matching my own, and I offer a half-assed excuse. “You asked me at all the wrong times, and I just didn’t want to.”

“Well, I guess she got the timing right.” She’s yelling now, prompting me to yell back.

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