Page 63 of Wilder Love

Page List

Font Size:

“Shane, hang on.”

“I need to get going. Sorry I said that shit at your party. It was a dick move.”

“Forget about it.” Travis was a good friend and I knew that all he wanted was for me to be happy, but I didn’t know how to do that anymore, and I didn’t want to drag down the mood of his party any more than I already had. “You wanna surf tomorrow?”

“Yeah. I’ll be there.”

The fireworks started as soon as I reached my Jeep. Instead of driving away, I sat on the hood, my back against the windshield, and watched them. Independence Day had taken on a whole new meaning.

27

Remy

Islowed to a jog when I got to the parking lot. I was late today, but it was a Sunday, so I figured Shane wouldn’t be working and would spend his day surfing.

“Oh my God. Oh my God,” a girl squealed. “It’s Remy St. Clair.”

Three teen girls who looked to be about fourteen or fifteen piled out of a minivan.

“Can we get a picture with you?”

I smiled. “Sure. As long as you don’t mind that I’m all sweaty.” I probably looked like crap, my hair plastered to my head and my face pink from the exertion of running. I’d started running seven years ago. I never used to run. That had been Dylan’s thing. Now I ran a lot.

“We don’t mind,” a lanky brunette said.

I posed with them, smiling for the group selfies. The woman driving the minivan thanked me and apologized for the fangirling as one of the girls waved her off and said she’d text when they were ready to be picked up.

“Are you here to surf?” a petite blonde girl asked.

“I just came to watch.”

“I would love to be a model,” the lanky brunette said. “How did you get into it?”

They walked with me along the path to the beach, carrying their boards on their heads. Surfer girls were cool.

“I got scouted.”

“Just walking down the street?”

“I was working at a surf shop,” I told them as we walked down the stairs to the beach. “A woman came in and asked if I’d ever considered modeling.”

“Well, I can see why. You’re even prettier in person.”

“Thanks.”

We stopped at the bottom of the staircase and they looked at the ocean then back at me, taking their boards off their heads and exchanging looks. “Not to be rude, but why did you quit?”

“It’s too personal. That’s like asking her about her love life,” the petite blonde said, nudging her friend and giving her the eye.

“I quit because I started to wonder who I was beyond a pretty face. And I thought maybe it was time to find out.” There’s some honesty for you, girls. I hadn’t expected those words to come out but there they were.

They nodded as if they understood. Maybe they did. “I get it. I mean, we have friends who are so busy posing for selfies and trying to look perfect. Like that’s all they care about.”

“They’re not even into surfing or anything. It’s so lame.” She pulled a duck face and struck a classic selfie pose that made me laugh. “That’s how they look in every single photo. I kid you not.”

“Well… see you around,” the blonde said. “Thanks for the photos.”

“Bye. Nice meeting you,” I said. “Have fun surfing.”