Page 4 of Ripple Effect

Max groans, leaning back on his beach towel. “I told you; I can’t bend myself into a fucking pretzel like the rest of you.” He flicks a thumb in my direction. “I can barely get myself up on the board with Miss Junior Champion over here.”

A wry smile tugs at the corners of my mouth, but inside, it stirs up a whirlwind of emotions and memories.

“Miss Junior Champion,” he says, as if that title were still an inseparable part of me, as if those words could erase the past two years I’d spent twiddling my thumbs at Dayton, choosing my studies over the professional circuit.

I’d spent nearly three years participating in the Junior Series competitions before I turned eighteen and gave it all up for a more traditional lifestyle. I’ve still been surfing, but not at the competitive level that I used to. And although I’m picking it up again, I certainly couldn’t carry my weight with the pros in the WSL.

Across from us, Gracie chuckles softly, her hands wrapped around her knees as she stares out at the waves. “You never know, Maxy Poo. It might actually help you relax for once.”

Caught in the middle of it all, I roll my eyes, a secret smile playing on my lips. It feels nice to be out here with them, just listening, basking in their conversations. I don’t even have to say a word, yet these three always ensure I’m included.

Luckily, I have a knack for making new friends despite my quiet nature. It’s a trait that’s followed me from childhood, and it’s one I’m grateful for, especially now. Coastal U may be nestled in a small town, but it’s a big university, a state school where it’s easy enough to get swept up in the crowd.

It’s not that Iwantedto leave my boyfriend behind at my old school, but I came here for so many different reasons. My affinity for the ocean being only one of them. There are more opportunities for me here, a better marine bio program, and much easier access to my first love—surfing.

A small part of me is still nervous about starting over somewhere new, especially after two years of living right across the street from my high school sweetheart. But mostly, I’m excited. It’s a new chapter in my life, one where I have the chance to rediscover myself.

Besides, I put my full trust in Logan, and I know it’s better to carve our own paths while we’re still young.

As the sun climbs higher in the sky, signaling the end of our morning session, I stand up, shaking sand off my legs. It may still be early, but there’s a whole day ahead of me now—classes, exploring campus, and settling in to Gracie’s and my apartment.

The rest of the group joins me, with Max wrapping an arm around his girlfriend. My roommate, ever the mother hen, reminds us to keep ourselves hydrated as we all part ways. And already, I’m feeling a bit warm and fuzzy inside, like the four of us might truly have something special here.

Maybe, if I’m lucky enough, they’ll let me think of them as my stand-in family, as my home away from home.

* * *

After cleaningup from the beach and grabbing some breakfast with Gracie, we trudge back to our apartment. It’s a cute, if small, place that we share, nestled only a short walk from campus and a breezy drive from Amber Isle. It’s not a palace by any means, but it’s still sweet and comfortable.

I push open the door to my room, stepping into organized chaos. Boxes lie half-unpacked, their contents spilling over onto the floor. Clothes—some folded, others crumpled—are strewn across the chair, all thanks to the whirlwind of settling in.

Despite the mess, there’s a distinct homey vibe to the room, a comforting sense of belonging that tugs a smile onto my face.

As I wade over to the bed, my gaze lands on my nightstand, where a picture of Logan and me sits. It’s from our second anniversary, a perfect summer day spent laughing under the sun. We’re both smiling, eyes pinched shut and crinkling at the corners.

A fondness sweeps over me as I trace the edges of the frame.

But then, my phone buzzes, pulling me from my thoughts. I glance down and see Logan’s name flashing on the screen. A smile pulls at my cheeks, warmth filling my chest.

“Hey, Daisy,” he says as I pick up the FaceTime, voice low and rough just the way I like.

“Hey, you,” I say softly, fondly. Even though we’ve been keeping close contact, nothing beats seeing him, even if it’s only over a screen.

The two of us quickly fall into an easy conversation, updating each other on our week. He talks about baseball and the new drills their coach is introducing in the off-season. I gush about my morning surf and my newfound friends.

Despite the distance, we find a way to share our lives. But there’s still a tinge of sadness, an undertone of longing that underlines every word. It’s been over two weeks since I’ve seen him in person, a far cry from the last two years when we were inseparable.

“I wish I could be there,” Logan says after a pause, a hint of frustration in his voice. “You on your board again? It’s like . . . you’re part of the ocean. You always have been.”

His words warm my heart, and I can’t help but smile. “I know. I wish you were here, too.”

The conversation continues, a gentle ebb and flow of familiarity. I can hear the excitement in his voice as he talks about his chance at securing team captain this spring. I listen, my heart filling with pride for him. I share my excitement about my new courses and gush over how beautiful Amber Isle is.

Our conversation is comfortable, easy, full of the shared understanding and affection that we’ve always had. But just as Logan starts telling me about a mishap with one of his teammates, I hear something else entirely. It’s the unmistakable sound of a girl’s laughter, faint but clearly audible over the call.

If I didn’t know any better, I’d guess that the two of them were in the same room.

I frown, my confusion cutting through our bubble. “Do you have someone there with you?”

---