Page 50 of Britta & the Beach Boy
“Dex. I just made a fool of myself when I saw Rhys in the hallway. I think I said ‘You’re Rhys James’ at least eighty-five times. Maybe more. Ipettedhis sleeve to make sure I wasn’t hallucinating.” She presses her free hand to her forehead and shakes her head. “You need to explain to him I amnotlike that. I work for a famous person—not Rhys-level famous—but I can behave.” Stella talks on autopilot, not stopping until I cover her mouth with my hand.
Dex laughs. “Why don’t you go on over and tell him yourself?”
Stella swipes my hand away and nearly chokes on Dex’s suggestion. “Absolutely not. I’m not going anywhere near Rhys James without both of you there to steer me away if I get stupid and fangirl all over him like some rabid…” she waves her hands, grasping for the right word. “Superfan.”
“But you are a rabid superfan,” I remind her.
“Exactly. Which is why I need you there.” She grabs both my shoulders and gives me a gentle shake.
“All right, all right.” I brush her hands away and face Dex. “Apparently, we have to eat fast, so what would you like? Burgers? Tacos?”
At this, Stella throws up her hands. “Absolutely not. You both look too gorgeous to eat fast food. Go somewhere good. But also fast. But really good, and not cheap. But not expensive. And close by.”
Dex’s mouth turns down in that way some people can frown and still look happy, and my pulse skips like a little girl on her way to the candy store with a pocket full of loose change she’s swiped from her dad’s collect-all box. (That little girl was me).
“Sushi?” Dex asks. “There’s a good place right on the beach. It might be busy, but they’ll usually give me a seat at the counter if the tables are full.”
“Because you’re Liam Dexter?” I’m teasing, but his slow shrug wipes the smile from my face. “Oh. For real?”
He nods, his cheeks growing a shade darker.
“I’ve never had sushi. Do you think I’ll like it?” I don’t want to flat-out say no, but, yeah, I’ve never eaten raw fish and hadn’t ever planned on it. But I also never planned on dinner with the best surfer in the world. I’m keeping an open mind.
Dex blinks hard like he can’t process what I’ve said, so I follow up with my own slow shrug. My shoulders are barely back down when he grabs my hand and pulls me through the door.
“You’re about to find out how good it is.”
I send Stella a panicked look, but she just smiles and joins the shrug party with one of her own.
Dex keeps a hold of my hand as we walk the half block to the boardwalk, twining his fingers through mine when we reach the cement path paralleling the ocean. The sun hovers over the horizon, ready to paint the sky orange, pink, and red. I slow to take it in, and Dex tugs me to stand in the still-warm sand, out of the way of people walking, skating, and biking the path.
“We’ve got time to watch,” he says, then a few seconds later. “It’s a beauty, isn’t it?”
I nod. “Reminds me of home. Except we don’t get those shades of purple.” I point to the lavender-laced clouds weaving through the rays of deep orange.
“Paradise has beautiful sunsets.” He brushes his thumb across mine, sending goosebumps up my arms that prompt him to ask, “Are you cold?”
I shake my head, trying to regain my power of speech. When I do, I ask, “What do sunsets look like in Burleigh Heads?”
Dex swivels his head to look at me. “How’d you know where I’m from?”
I give him a long stare. “You may not be aware, but you have an internet presence. Google knows you really well and you have your own Wikipedia page.”
He laughs and as the sun continues its descent, we step back on the cement path and continue our stroll. “I’m just surprised you looked me up.”
“I got a little curious when I realized there was really such a thing as famous surfers and you happened to be one of them.” I bump him playfully with my hip, and then we stay glued together from our fingertips to our shoulders.
“You could have asked me your questions instead. Google doesn’t know everything.”
A voice in the far corner of my mind sends warnings I shouldn’t be letting Dex get this close—holding my hand, stroking my thumb, brushing my arm with his—but the combination of his deep voice and soft Australian accent drowns out everything else, including my worries about what happens when I go back to Paradise.
“Good to know. Tell me what sunsets look like on the other side of the world.”
“I’ve seen a lot more sunrises than sunsets—the best waves are in the morning—and Burleigh Heads has the most beautiful sunrises in the world.” Dex isn’t looking at the sunset in front of us anymore. He’s back home. I hear the longing in his voice.
“Do you miss it there?” The last rays of this sunset back light the angles of his profile. His strong brow, the round tip of his nose and his square jaw. They’re outlined in orange and a hazy black. Breathtaking.
“I do.” He looks at me, and in the fading light, his amber eyes take on a dark copper tone. “I go back a few times a year, usually when I have an event in Aus. But I haven’t lived there permanently in over four years, but there are more promotional opportunities here.”
