Page 87 of Fight For Me

“I haven’t done this in way too long,” I grumble.

She laughs, leaning over the edge of her board to kiss me. “It’s okay. You don’t have to try to keep up.”

“Such a smart ass.”

Smart ass or not, she’s not wrong. After an hour or so my abs and thighs are aching and I’ve fallen more times than I can count. Meanwhile Alex is out there whipping around on the waves like she was born out here. Long boards aren’t meant for lots of tricks, but she moves with a grace that keeps me distracted for the rest of the morning.

Eventually, the waves calm and we end up floating side by side on our boards, just like we did in Miami. Now, though, I can feel free to touch her and I definitely take advantage of that, running my fingertips along every inch of skin her wetsuit doesn’t cover.

While we float, we talk. Alex doesn’t need her “tell me one thing” trick to get me to open up. I want her to know everything there is to know about me, just like I want to know everything about her.

So I tell her about the feeling I get when I step on stage in a concert hall. She tells me how she decided to graduate college in three years instead of four as a way of saying fuck you to the insomnia that made everything more difficult than it should be. I tell her about friends in Seattle, and how it’s hard to feel very close to any of them because of the turnover in the symphony and the hours I spend on the road. She tells me what it was like to grow up with Everly, what it means to them to carry on the friendship of their mothers, and how Aunt Paige is like another parent to her.

Finally, we pull ourselves out of the water and go back to the house. George greets us like we’ve been gone for days, not hours, then promptly falls asleep after we’ve said hello. We save water by showering together and I finally get to feel her wrapped around me again.

We talk about the show while we take George for a long walk on the beach. Scott is trying to get the three of them to sign on for a second season, and she’s hesitant.

“I know it’s not good for me,” she says softly. “My insomnia hasn’t been this bad in years.”

“Then you shouldn’t do it,” I say immediately. It’s hard not to think about Scott’s threat at the grand opening party, and my bone-deep contentment over our perfect day fades a little. I already decided not to tell Alex what he said to me about having more footage. The last thing she needs is to have that threat weighing on her while she tries to make this decision.

Besides, I’m ninety-nine percent sure he’s full of shit. I never kissed Alex in any of the communal living areas and the stationary cameras don’t capture the end of the hallway, so they wouldn’t have footage of me sneaking into her room. He’s just trying to freak me out so he can get his way.

Of course, there’s that one percent of me that still worries. What if they did somehow manage to get something on film? I don’t even want to think about the shit show that would follow.

Alex is still talking about her decision and I force my thoughts away from Scott’s threats. “I would feel like such an asshole,” she says. “I know Everly wants the show to continue. And it’s obviously good for the brand. I can’t even keep up with our online orders right now, and we already had to increase our staffing at the store.”

“Hey.” I pull her closer. “I get that you want everything to go well for the line and for your friends. But you matter too, Alex. You shouldn’t agree to something that hurts you just to please other people.”

“It doesn’t hurt me. It’s just a little insomnia.”

I snort. “Yeah, a little insomnia. How many hours have you slept this week?” She scuffs her toes against the sand, not answering me. “That’s what I thought.”

“I just don’t want to be the one to ruin it for them.”

“They love you, sweetheart. They’re not going to see it that way.”

She ducks her head, trying to hide the little smile tugging on her lips. “What?” I cup her cheek, making her look up. “What’s that smile?”

She shrugs. “I like it when you call me sweetheart.”

“Then I’ll call you that every day.”

Her grin grows mischievous. “You need a pet name too.”

“No thanks.”

“Come on! I get to call you something.”

“You get to call me Wyatt.”

She bites her lip, thinking. “Baby cakes.”

“No thank you.”

“BooBoo?”

“Please stop.”