Page 84 of The Voice We Find

I participate in a polite Q&A session directed by Dana, even though I’m certain she knows far more answers than she lets on. Even after I say good-bye and start for my board, I can still hear the women chatting.

“So I don’t think it’s any coincidence that you called this morning because I just read a very inspiring post from one of our favorite traveling theater companies.”

“Oh really?” Sophie asks. “Wait, why are you doing that weird eyebrow thing?”

“How ’bout I just forward you the post and you can read it for yourself. Just remember, we only live once and these types of opportunities are not offered every day. Plus, I’m your best friend. Part of my job is to push you to do things you’re not comfortable with for the greater good.”

As I grab for my surfboard, I hear Sophie say, “And who, exactly, is the greater good in this case?”

I’m too far to hear how Dana replies, but Sophie’s laugh rings out loud and clear.

I chuckle at their funny antics as I step into the ocean, making a mental note to ask her about it after my run. All too soon, I’ve lost myself to the pull of the ocean and the progression of the waves.

I’m not sure how long I stayed out, but when I get back to Sophie’s beach towel, she’s off the phone and munching on a protein bar. The autumn sunshine bathes her in a golden hue, and if I wasn’t dripping with saltwater, I’d be grabbing for my phone to snap her picture, crazy beach hair and all.

“You’re an even better surfer than you look, August Tate,” she says.

I quirk an eyebrow and then pat my face dry with a towel. “Not sure if I should take that as a compliment?”

“You definitely should.”

As I settle in beside her, I tap the lopsided cinnamon roll atopher head. “I think it’s gonna take a bit of work to untangle this top knot of yours.”

“I know. But sadly, I don’t know if my arms will be up for such a task for some time. Might be next week before my muscles stop shaking.”

“Do you have a brush with you?”

“Of course.” She points to the bag at her feet. “I always keep one in my bag.”

“Care if I give it a go?”

“As long as you know it’s an enter-at-your-own-risk situation.”

With a groan, she sits up while I collect her bag and carefully pick my way around clean clothes, a collection of snacks and gum, a few pieces of makeup, earbuds, and a wallet, and ah,bingo. A hairbrush.

Brush in hand, I move to sit behind her, rising up on my knees. “So, I’ve never actually done this before.”

“You’ve never brushed someone’s hair before?” She tilts her chin up with a smirk. “Is that the secret to keeping your hair looking all mussed and sultry?”

“You think my hair lookssultry?”

“Don’t even try to pretend you don’t have sultry surfer hair. It’s part of your aesthetic.”

“Also didn’t know I had an aesthetic.”

“You absolutely do. Yours is moody musician with sultry surfer hair meets secret musical prodigy and snarky holiday romance narrator.”

“So just your typical average Joe.”

She laughs as I reach for the hair tie on top of her head that is somehow binding this wet nest together. I tug strand after strand to try and make sense of—

“You’ll never get it out if you treat my head like a fine French pastry, August. You’ll just end up making more of a mess. Secure a finger under the tie and then just yank it out.”

I cringe. “That sounds incredibly painful.”

“Welcome to pretty much everything in the female world.”

I trymy best to untangle it my way, but eventually, I’m forced to adopt Sophie’s methodology.

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