Always Summer

by Nikki Godwin

***

Copyright © 2015 Nikki Godwin.

All rights reserved.

First edition: December 22
^nd
,
2015

This ebook is licensed for your personal
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work.

This book is a work of fiction. Names,
characters, places, and incidents either are products of the
author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to
actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or
locales is entirely coincidental.

For Gabriel Medina,

the surfer who gives me eternal inspiration,
eternal hope, and eternal summer.

It’s been sixty-three hours, but it’s not
like I’m counting. Alright – I’m totally counting, but it’s hard
not to count when Topher has ignored thirty-eight text messages and
sent me directly to his voicemail seventeen times.

“Call him again,” A.J. says, stretching out
on my bed. “And when he sends you to voicemail, leave one telling
him to answer his damn phone.”

I thought maybe I’d catch a break when
Alston finally went back to his own room and stopped sleeping in
the spare bedroom of the guest house. Two nights of him bugging me
about Topher was hard enough. Now A.J. is taking over. As much as I
love them both, I just need to breathe.

“I’m going for a walk,” I say, slipping on a
pair of flip-flops. I grab my phone and tuck it into my back
pocket. There’s no way I’m leaving it here or else A.J. will call
and leave Topher that voicemail all on his own.

“Does that mean I’m not invited?” A.J. asks.
He props up on an elbow and gives me sad puppy eyes.

But it doesn’t work. Not today. Not now. Not
when I’m in absolute panic mode because my ex-boyfriend’s little
brother kissed me, ran, and has been avoiding me for nearly three
days.

“Sorry, but this is a solo trip,” I confirm.
“I think I just need some air. I’ll be back soon.”

As soon as my flip-flops hit the sidewalk, I
bolt around the house to the beach. It feels like such a cliché now
that I’ve been living here for a few weeks, but there’s a sense of
freedom being near the ocean.

Right now, I want nothing more than to let
the waves roll in and take all of these emotions back out to sea
with them, to be forever lost among the pirate treasures and ship
wreckages.

But upon reaching the shoreline, I just
can’t let myself be one with the ocean. Maybe it’s because I’m
still haunted by Topher’s near-drowning. Or maybe it’s the
knowledge of how Shark really died and how Theo couldn’t save him.
Whatever it is, I just can’t allow the ocean to have a piece of
me.

For a moment, I understand Vin’s hatred for
the sea. I understand the crushing fear that it’ll rip someone you
love away from you. In a twisted way, I don’t blame him for
leaving. The responsibilities of Drenaline Surf were insane, and I
know he’d rather be under the hood of a car any day. But abandoning
his family like that? I refuse to feel anything for him. I just
can’t do it.

I back away from the shoreline and trek
through the sand, my eyes focused on Colby’s house in the distance.
He probably doesn’t know about the awkward kiss with Topher, and he
won’t hound me to make phone calls or send texts like my roommates
have been. I could ask about his parents and what his lawyer said.
I could get updates on how he’s planning to fight this and
strategize how we’re going to save his reputation with the surf
industry. Any drama is better than my own drama right now.

As I near his oversized beach mansion,
Jace’s black truck comes into view. Then Miles’s dreadlocks. And
furniture. My chest tightens and I dart back through the sand in
the opposite direction. Topher and Miles were supposed to move in
with Colby this weekend. Miles shouts out an order to Jace in the
distance, and I panic. I’m sure the Hooligans know, and I just
can’t face them, even if they could force Topher into talking to
me.

I rush around the closest house to hide from
anyone who may be in Colby’s driveway. I inhale the salty air and
rest my head back against a weathered shutter. My fingers trace the
peeling paint, and without a second glance around, I know exactly
where I am.

This is the beach house where it all began.
Linzi and I joined Alston and Reed at a beach party where I roamed
the sand looking for Shark McAllister, believing he was the party
boy of the group named A.J. Miles won twenty dollars from Dominic
in a game of pool, and Topher popped up on the pool table moments
later and introduced himself as the best surfer since Shark
McAllister.

I attempt to peer through the window into a
back room of the house, but the windows are hazy with remnants of
sandstorms and daily beach weather lingering on the glass.

I walk around to the front porch. Tire marks
streak through the sand, and summertime furniture sits by the front
door. Maybe the owners go up north during the summer. I can’t
imagine anyone leaving Crescent Cove during this time of the year,
though. Maybe it’s a rental house that no one wants to rent. Or
maybe it has termites. I can’t fathom any other reason for this
place to be abandoned.

I reposition one of the porch chairs away
from the view of the street and curl up against the lime green and
orange cushion. I wonder if Officer Pittman would haul me in for
trespassing if I decided to stay on this porch forever. Maybe I can
just sit here until the owners of the house come back and force me
away. At least then I can ask them why they’d leave the most rustic
beach house on the planet during the most beachy time of the year.
Even more so, I’d ask them why they let the West Coast Hooligans,
of all people, throw parties here.

A car door slams, and I jump up from the
chair immediately. I wasn’t actually serious about staying here
until the owners came home, but I clearly have magical timing. I
ease over to the edge of the porch and watch a shadow move around
the side of the house.

The messy-haired, blue-eyed boy who emerges
isn’t exactly who I expected to see, but he can’t avoid me now.
Topher freezes in the sand and stares at me, equally as confused as
I am.

“What are you doing here?” he asks.

“I could ask you the same thing, Mr. I
Refuse to Answer Calls and Texts,” I say, folding my arms over my
chest. “I planned on staying here until the owners came home and
kicked me off the porch. Apparently, they sent you to do that job,
though.”

He shakes his head and forces a half-smile
but avoids eye contact. Then he walks toward me, up the front
steps, and to the front door. He fiddles with his keys for a moment
before turning to me.

“The person who owns this house isn’t coming
home,” he says. “C’mon in.”

He flips on the living room light and makes
his way into the kitchen. He drops the mail on the counter and
retrieves a glass from the cabinet. As he fills it with water from
the filtered system on the refrigerator door, I grab the junk mail
to see who lives here.

Jacob McAllister

2307 Dolphin Point

Crescent Cove, CA 56830

It amazes me how often I feel stupid for not
putting the pieces together. Of course, Shark would live basically
next door to Colby Taylor. Of course, the Hooligans would have
access to Shark’s house. How did I seriously miss the dots that
connected all of this?

Topher guzzles down the glass of water. I’m
not sure if he’s nervous, dehydrated, or just needs a distraction,
but he doesn’t face me. I don’t want him to catch me watching him,
but I don’t want to pretend to be interested in this Discover card
application mailed to a dead guy either. Instead, I glance around
the living room behind me. It’s bare of any real décor. Definitely
a bachelor pad. Shark’s photography hangs on every wall.

The clink of a glass behind me turns my
attention back to Topher. The glass sits on the counter, and he
rocks back and forth on the heels of his shoes.

“So, um, you want a tour of the place?” he
asks.

I don’t know what to make of him right now.
He’s obviously avoiding the real topic at hand, but I’m afraid
bringing it up may send him bolting out the door.

“Sure,” I say, breaking eye contact because
it is definitely too awkward right now.

I keep my head down as Topher brushes past
me. The scent of sunscreen and salt water is sensory overload, and
I want so badly to throw my arms around him and tell him that
everything is okay.

He motions his arms around the room. “Living
room, Shark’s photography, basic furniture,” he says. “Over here,
there’s a ping in the wall where Theo threw a keychain that Shark
gave him. I think it fell under the house or something because we
never could find it later. Theo still looks for it every now and
then, but he doesn’t come around here much. It’s too hard for
him.”

Not far from the living room, Topher motions
around the game room, where Shark’s pool table still sits center
stage. As we venture into Shark’s office space, which is cramped
with surfboards and photography equipment, Topher doesn’t make eye
contact. He’s completely silent once he steps into Shark’s
room.

“So, is this how it’s going to be now?” I
ask, blocking the doorway of Shark’s bedroom. “You’re just going to
avoid me forever?”

Topher heaves a heavy sigh. He knew this was
coming, but he evidently doesn’t want to face it. He buries his
face into his hands and groans. Then he runs his hands through his
hair and falls back onto Shark’s bed, once again avoiding eye
contact with me and engaging more so with the ceiling.

“You know I love my brother, right?” he
asks. Then he pushes up on his elbows and looks directly at me
while I continue lingering in the doorway.

I nod because I can’t speak. I can’t believe
this is how he’s going to talk his way out of this. He’s going to
use the brother card – the same card that Miles told Vin not to use
when Topher was in the hospital.

“My brother is an ass,” Topher says. “Like,
jerk of the year kind of ass. He pisses me off, and if I could see
him right now, I’d probably hit him. But he’s still my brother. He
took me in when my parents kicked me out. He’s the reason I
graduated high school. He’s the reason I have a sponsorship with
Drenaline Surf. Like I said, jerk of the year, no doubt, but the
jerk
is
my brother.”

I wish he’d just say it. Really, I wish he’d
just texted me all this instead. I think it would’ve been a lot
easier to swallow via text. At least then I wouldn’t have had to
stand here and actually hear him say the words.

“He’s not all bad,” Topher quickly
interjects into his brother-love monologue. He pushes himself up
into a sitting position now. “He has a lot of really good
qualities, but my point is, you were dating the wrong guy. All the
things you liked about Vin weren’t really Vin. They were Shark, and
Vin is nothing like Shark – but I am.”

What was it Vin said that day in his office
at Drenaline Surf? If Shark was here,
he’d
be the one dating
me. It makes sense now. I will my legs to move, but they feel like
sandbags holding me to this spot, unable to budge. In a way, I’m
glad because I don’t want to leave an open exit for Topher to
escape if this gets too weird, but at the same time, I need to be
closer to him, to see the hues of blue in his eyes.

“I’m sorry for avoiding you,” he says. “I’m
sorry for all the awkwardness and for being impulsive and for being
a stupid guy. But I’m not sorry for kissing you,” he says.

I find my footing and dare to leave the
doorway. I sink onto the bed next to Topher but don’t look him in
the eye just yet.

Topher inhales and exhales, a bit more
loudly than necessary. “I was scared,” he says, finally glancing my
way. “That’s all I can really say. I was scared. I didn’t know what
you were thinking or feeling. So I ran. That’s one thing I
am
good at.”

“So where does that leave us?” I ask.

He forces a slight laugh. “Is there an
us?”

My cheeks flush with heat, like the sunshine
beating down on my skin. Even knowing that this conversation is
moving in the right direction, it’s still hard to actually spit out
the words.

“Well, I kind of thought there was,” I say.
“You know, since we’ve finally straightened out the whole ‘dating
the wrong brother’ issue.”

A smile creeps across his face, and he
narrows his eyes at me. “Are you sure you can handle me, though? I
mean, that’s a lot of sugar cubes and energy drinks,” he reminds
me. “Not to mention, I’m impulsive and do some really stupid shit
sometimes, like night surfing or kissing my brother’s
ex-girlfriend. You just never know.”