Page 33 of The Right Guy
BEEP.
I ran out of time after recording bumbling, incoherent drivel. Again, I hit speed dial. “It’s me again. Okay, so I told him nothing would ever happen between us. I mean, between him and I, not you and me. He’s with Fia and I—”BEEP.
Oh, for fuck’s sake. My next call wasn't Theo, it was an Uber. After a gazillion years of waiting, a car finally pulled up. As I hurtled toward the passenger door, a gritty stone punctured the sole of my foot. Thatincywincyfragment was like a winning shot by a sniper. I yelped and simultaneously crashed in a heap at the passenger car door. I ignored the loud rip that followed. I had a mission. Destination: Theo Hunter.
“I can’t take you in my cab if you’re drunk.” The driver peered out of his lowered window.
“I’m definitely one hundred percent sober. I need you to drive me to the beach houses fronting Siren beach as quickly as possible.” Yanking open the door, I scrambled inside, minus the decorum of a lady. “Step on it! It’s urgent.”
The taxi pulled away from the sidewalk at a snail's pace. “Excuse me, can you please go a bit faster?”
“No ma'am. This is the legal limit.”
At this speed, the guy wouldn’t have the power to pull his dick from his trousers. I sat back and peered through the passenger window. I’d spent little time around campus, except for when I went to class. Most evenings, I worked at The Reef or hung out with Theo at his place.
“I heard the college are trying to buy the abandoned buildings behind the church of Perpetual Sorrows,” he announced and slowed down to look.
My knee jiggled, and I tapped the armrest impatiently. The guy would end up with my heel in the side of his temple if he didn’t put his foot on the gas. “I’m in a rush. I have to reach the beach house at Siren.”
“Do you live in those expensive beach houses at Siren?” The cabby looked at me through his rear-view mirror.
I shook my head. Expensive? “No. My friend does.”
“Lucky. Those houses are worth millions because of the view alone. They never go up for sale either. Prime retail property, right there on the coast.”
“What?”
“Aye, your friend must have a few dollars in the bank.”
Now that I thought about it, Theo never actually said he owned the beach house. It never occurred to me it was worth so much money. He told me he renovated the entire interior using driftwood and sustainable materials. The work he completed was so unique and expertly crafted, like everything he did. I never once thought to ask him how he got his hands on such a gorgeous property on a bar manager’s salary.
We finally arrived at the entrance to Theo’s place. All the lights were out, and Poseidon wasn’t in his usual spot on the deck. Surely, they couldn’t have left already. Theo was good, but he wasn't that good.
Then, I noticed the Wasp parked up, and the gate to the beach wide open. He had private access to the shore from his backyard, and a full one hundred and eighty degree view of the sea.
The evening breeze lifted the fine hairs on my arms and peeked beneath the material of my dress. I frowned at the sensation swirling around my thigh, glanced down and found a never-ending split following the seam of my dress, right up to my ass cheek. This evening had turned to shit.
Fine sand was cold and rough beneath my feet. The path to thebeachmeandered through sloped dunes, scattered with clumps of coarse grass. I scanned the expansive beach sweeping the coast, hoping and praying Theo was alone. Waves crashed to the shore and my scalp prickled. I’d tradedopulenceandcanopiesforwatertorture. I’d do anything to make him understand, even if it meant plowing oversanddangerously close to the ocean.
I trudged to the glistening waves, pausing a few feet away—for tsunami safety reasons. To my left, I established the shadowy mound ahead wasn’t a rock but a heap of clothes. Dark velvet clothes.
“Holy shit!” I gasped. “You, asshole!” I wailed out to the sea. Why the hell would he swim in openwaterin the evening? Didn’t he know shark attacks on humans peaked during October, and at dusk, they would think he was he was a seal, all juicy and tasty and teeth-enticing? My heart rate soared, rupturing the stratosphere. The ocean beyond the rolling waves was calm and glassy. There was no sign of him.
He could be dead. Sharks could’ve gnawed his leg off, and now, he might float away in the undercurrent.
Adrenaline jarred my muscles. I froze, stuck in the damp sand. Then thoughts of Theo in danger propelled me forward, one swift reluctant step at a time. My toes met the mild water, becoming submerged. The sensation was pleasant and soothing until I looked up to the wide-open water, stretching for miles.
“Theo!” I squealed. My hands fisted as I waded further, hissing as the water engulfed me. When water circled my waist, a powerful cresting wave crashed down on top of me, knocking me off balance. My eyes stung. I sucked in salty seawater, snorting and choking as another wave collided with my already unsteady form. I toppled into the water, ruining my elegant hairstyle and makeup.
I floundered and flapped, trying to stay above the uneven surface. A howl of fear garbled as more water rushed over my head. Abrupt hands seized my waist and elevated me into the air. Warmth enveloped me from behind, and an energetic heave hurled me upwards. The simple scent of musk and Theo pacified my rapid heartbeat. I was safe and snuggled into my best friend's naked chest. My ear pressed to his tattooedpec,and I focused on his slamming pulse.
This moment was so very different from the pool party rescue mission. This time, when I thought about Theo, he appeared. He was my first thought back then, and my only thought right now.
“What the fuck were you doing?” Theo snapped. He carried me out of the sea, unmoved by the power waves hitting him from behind. If I didn’t know him any better, I would have said he was angry, but the crease on his brow showed concern. He released my legs and angled me to a stand. Then he let go completely and put an obvious space between us. “What’s going on, Ada? Why were you in the ocean of all places?” he demanded.
I shrugged, feeling like a dumbass. “I thought you were swimming again.”
“And you wanted to join me?” he questioned, running his palms over his wet hair.
