Page 3 of The Fallacy of True Love
Of course they were here to surf. Whether or not they actually could was a whole other question.
It wasn’t one I cared to know the answer to. Whatever they did, I only wished Z and his friends would stay clear of me while they were at it.
Chapter Two
Alonzo
The next day, I got up before everyone else did—exactly how I’d planned it. There was something about being alone at the beach early in the morning that put me at ease. As much as I enjoyed hanging out with my friends, I needed this moment to myself.
With the villa’s beach access, I made it to the shore in minutes. Surfers were already in the water with their boards, watching the waves for an opportunity to ride. One guy washed out, and someone else paddled out to try their luck. They took their time before popping up on their board, and even from a distance, I could tell the surfer was a girl by her curves. To say they were generous was an understatement, and yet I’d barely registered that observation when my jaw hung open.
Surfing involved a mix of strength and agility, intuition, and fearlessness. You needed to be physically fit to push yourself up and maintain your balance despite the water’s force beneath your board. You needed to understand the motions of the sea and clock the right time to move. And you needed to go full speed ahead even with the risk of things going wrong.
This girl seemed to nail all those, and she made it look easy. She rode the wave gracefully, moving with a swift fluidity that appeared unreal. As I watched her, a feeling of peace swept over me. I found myself wishing I could see her expression. Was she smiling? Frowning in concentration? Or maybe she was relaxed, in a state of Zen.
Some surfers whooped as they rode, but I heard nothing from her.
I wanted to know what it was like to master the sea the way she did.
No, I needed to.
My mom always said I was relentless when I latched onto a question, pushing and prodding until I got answers. It annoyed my sisters when we were growing up, but I couldn’t help it. That was just my wiring—and my dad told me it meant I’d be a good lawyer.
When I finally became one.
Sitting on the sand, I watched as the faceless girl rode one wave after another. Sometimes, the water petered out beneath her board. Other times, she glided over multiple swells before going under. Through it all, her energy didn’t seem to fade.
Finally, she waded to the shore, her orange board in tow. I got up and walked toward her. As she came closer, I could better make out her face—and the glower that appeared when she noticed me.
Had we met before? Something about her tugged at my memory, but I couldn’t quite place her.
She drew her shoulders back and lengthened her stride, almost daring me to continue my approach.
I wanted her to know I meant no harm. I simply wanted to compliment her on her skills.
So I gave her a casual smile. When we came within arm’s length of each other, I said, “You’re an amazing surfer.”
She arched a brow at me.
I’d seen that look before. I jolted as the pieces clicked into place.
“You were at that café yesterday, right?” I asked, instinctively craning my neck to check for the tattoo of two birds flying on the back of her shoulder.
She lowered her surfboard so the bottom sank into the sand, and I glanced at the black tatts scattered across her arms. I hadn’t noticed them yesterday, but seeing them had me even more drawn to getting one of my own. Too bad Dani had shut down that idea.
It wouldn’t hurt to ask where she’d gotten them, would it?
“You done?” she snapped.
My eyes flew to her face. If I’d thought she looked annoyed earlier, now she looked downright mad. “Sorry,” I said. “I’ve been thinking about getting a tatt for a while, and yours look great.”
“I know.”
I blinked at her abrupt response. When she didn’t say anything else, I tried again, smiling even though it felt forced. “How long have you been surfing? You look like a natural. I’ve never seen someone on the water?—”
“Like me?”
My words died in my throat. Honestly? Yeah. Most of the surfers I got to watch were men, not that I’d admit that to her. It didn’t take a genius to figure out she wouldn’t take that well.
