Free Rebound by Noelle August

awards,” I say, fighting away a host of noisy questions in my mind.
    Again, he grins. “We’ll need it.”
    He takes me through the rest of the plan, and it’s an ambitious one. All the most modern technology. Full-service production and post-production studios. He points out where the edit bay will be. Client lounges. Dressing rooms for the talent. A giant back deck is planned for staff to blow off steam and as a space to host the kindsof extravagant parties that put you on the map in this town. Words like “cyc wall” and “extendable light grid” come up, and though I only half-understand what he’s talking about, I just listen, swept up again by the excitement in his voice.
    “And this is the coolest thing,” he tells me. “Most of the interior walls of the studio building will be movable and made of this special liquid crystal glass to allow them to block out light in any section, as needed. It’s going to be something.”
    “That’s amazing.”
    But really, I think, he’s amazing. He’s so natural in this setting. So in his element. It reminds me of Ethan out on the soccer field, charging down the field like he’d break through concrete to get possession of the ball.
    And then I remember Ethan standing in the doorway of our bedroom. See the shock and hurt on his face. He had flowers for me—white tulips with just a blush of pink at their edges. I found them later in our kitchen trash.
    The memory sobers me, and I feel myself draw away. I’m listening, but on the outside of the bubble of warmth created by his enthusiasm. Maybe it’s for the best that there’s a Julia. Not that I needed another reason to keep a distance between us, but I’m grateful to have one. I can be cordial; we can do the work we need to do together. But that has to be it. That’s my purpose here. My only purpose. Anything else would be a mistake, and I absolutely refuse to make another one of those.

Chapter 10
Adam
    S aturday mornings surf sessions at County Line with Grey are the best part of my week. Usually, we surf the point break, but we’re not up for sharing today and it seems like everyone and his brother, or half-brother in my case, is here. So we take the beach break, which can be mushy and gutless on weaker days.
    Today is not a weak day.
    The rides are incredible, steep and fast, but carrying lots of power. Just how I like them. I pull myself onto my board after surfing yet another spectacular wave and check my diver’s watch. Almost eleven o’clock. Grey and I have been out here since eight. It’s no wonder my arms feel like lead weights.
    Eighty yards out, Grey is just standing up. I watch him carve the face of a wave like he weighs nothing. I do fine out here, but theseare his kinds of waves, tailor-made for a fearless nineteen-year-old shredder on a shortboard.
    Grey sees me and rides my way.
    “Adam! Oh no, Adam!” he yells as he draws closer, waving his hands. “Look out! I can’t stop! Look out !”
    He charges right at me. A few non-locals nearby don’t know what to think, especially an older man on a longboard. They’ve seen him surf and know he’s awesome. The best guy on the water. But Grey has a way of making you believe things even when they’re clearly not true.
    With fewer than a dozen feet between us, he cuts back and rides over the break. I have to duck dive under the wave, so I only see the beginning of his backflip into the water.
    We surf for different reasons, Grey and I.
    I come to find peace. He comes to raise hell.
    We surface close together, and he’s laughing. “Did you see that old guy’s face? He thought I was actually going to hit you! What a moron! Like I couldn’t surf circles around that old geezer!”
    “Yeah, the old guy. Moron.”
    Grey shakes his head. “Aw, c’mon, Adam. I wasn’t trying to give him a heart attack.”
    “Yes, you were.”
    “But it’s not like I could actually do it. And I can’t believe you’re ditching me tomorrow,” Grey says, in