Free Chasing Forever Down (Drenaline Surf Series) by Nikki Godwin Page A
Authors: Nikki Godwin
guy showing a gash in his arm. Another one sporting bruises. Nice little battle scars are mixed in with beach parties and surf gangs. The photos paint the perfect picture of the gritty, realistic side of surf life. A yellow street sign that reads “Surfer Crossing” is nailed to the top corner of the room. And then him – Colby Taylor – wedged right into the mosaic of surf life snapshots.
I do the quick shoplifter glance -around, rip the picture from the wall, and cram it into my purse. Then I spin around on my heel and pretend to be interested in a white surfboard decorated with painted pink and orange hibiscus flowers. Linzi is still wearing her starry-eyed shopper face when a girl bounces into the room and asks if we need any help.
“ We’re just looking,” Linzi says.
The girl’s bouncy smile sinks on her face with that typical “No, leave me alone” shopper statement. My intentions for recovering the moment are strictly to get out of here so I can examine Exhibit Stolen Photo.
“ Actually, we need a few things,” I say. “Can you lead me in the direction of sunscreen, sunglasses, and flip flops?”
Operation Recovery of Bouncy Smile is complete. She introduces herself as Kristin and leads me back into the main showroom. She could walk this store and give a sales pitch in her sleep.
“ Summer vacation?” she asks.
“ Yeah,” I say, nodding. “We didn’t come as prepared as we thought we were. This place is amazing, the surf culture and all. I could stay here forever.”
She laughs and nods along. “I can’t imagine living anywhere else. I’ve worked here since the grand opening. I don’t surf or anything, but my boyfriend does. So surfing is my life too, if that makes any sense.”
I focus on the rack of flip flops to keep myself from saying that I totally understand because I’ve only been here a matter of days, and my life is surfing now too. I want to feel the sand and taste the waves and smell the surfboard wax. I want to inhale surf life every time I breathe in the west coast ocean air. I could open my own framing shop right here on the beach and rescue driftwood from the shoreline. I could make my forever here.
By the time we leave Drenaline Surf an hour later with too many flip flops, multiple bikinis, and the free rubber bracelets Kristin threw in as a thank you, the stolen photo is about to burn a hole in my purse. I wait until we’re secure in the secrecy of my car to pull out my loot.
“ Look what I found on the wall in there,” I say, holding the photo in front of the radio’s buttons.
The background of the picture is too dark to make out where it was taken. It could be anywhere from a nightclub to a night on the beach. Everything behind him is black. He’s holding his hand out toward the camera with that thumb and pinky universal surf gesture – the shaka, Linzi informs me from her surf research – and he’s sitting next to another blonde. The other guy is holding a beer bottle.
“All of his friends are really cute. Have you noticed that?” Linzi asks. “I bet he’s the party boy.”
I study the guy’s face and burn it into my memory so I’ll recognize him if I see him at the party tonight. Any ounce of dread I felt about this VIP thing leaves my body and washes away to the bottom of the ocean for the mermaids to lock away in the treasure chests they’ve hauled away from shipwrecks.
“That would make sense. I mean, if Colby only hangs out with these four guys, he’s gotta be one of them,” I say. “Party boy fits him.”
Operation Party Boy is my mission for the night.
CHAPTER 8
My car’s headlights flash across the parking lot that was reserved for tonight. I hold up my VIP ticket to my window, and the security guard waves us through. The music up the street beats over the sound of my car’s engine. Linzi twists and turns, trying to adjust her pink tank top over her bikini top.
“Let me text Alston before we get out. We don’t want to walk
I do the quick shoplifter glance -around, rip the picture from the wall, and cram it into my purse. Then I spin around on my heel and pretend to be interested in a white surfboard decorated with painted pink and orange hibiscus flowers. Linzi is still wearing her starry-eyed shopper face when a girl bounces into the room and asks if we need any help.
“ We’re just looking,” Linzi says.
The girl’s bouncy smile sinks on her face with that typical “No, leave me alone” shopper statement. My intentions for recovering the moment are strictly to get out of here so I can examine Exhibit Stolen Photo.
“ Actually, we need a few things,” I say. “Can you lead me in the direction of sunscreen, sunglasses, and flip flops?”
Operation Recovery of Bouncy Smile is complete. She introduces herself as Kristin and leads me back into the main showroom. She could walk this store and give a sales pitch in her sleep.
“ Summer vacation?” she asks.
“ Yeah,” I say, nodding. “We didn’t come as prepared as we thought we were. This place is amazing, the surf culture and all. I could stay here forever.”
She laughs and nods along. “I can’t imagine living anywhere else. I’ve worked here since the grand opening. I don’t surf or anything, but my boyfriend does. So surfing is my life too, if that makes any sense.”
I focus on the rack of flip flops to keep myself from saying that I totally understand because I’ve only been here a matter of days, and my life is surfing now too. I want to feel the sand and taste the waves and smell the surfboard wax. I want to inhale surf life every time I breathe in the west coast ocean air. I could open my own framing shop right here on the beach and rescue driftwood from the shoreline. I could make my forever here.
By the time we leave Drenaline Surf an hour later with too many flip flops, multiple bikinis, and the free rubber bracelets Kristin threw in as a thank you, the stolen photo is about to burn a hole in my purse. I wait until we’re secure in the secrecy of my car to pull out my loot.
“ Look what I found on the wall in there,” I say, holding the photo in front of the radio’s buttons.
The background of the picture is too dark to make out where it was taken. It could be anywhere from a nightclub to a night on the beach. Everything behind him is black. He’s holding his hand out toward the camera with that thumb and pinky universal surf gesture – the shaka, Linzi informs me from her surf research – and he’s sitting next to another blonde. The other guy is holding a beer bottle.
“All of his friends are really cute. Have you noticed that?” Linzi asks. “I bet he’s the party boy.”
I study the guy’s face and burn it into my memory so I’ll recognize him if I see him at the party tonight. Any ounce of dread I felt about this VIP thing leaves my body and washes away to the bottom of the ocean for the mermaids to lock away in the treasure chests they’ve hauled away from shipwrecks.
“That would make sense. I mean, if Colby only hangs out with these four guys, he’s gotta be one of them,” I say. “Party boy fits him.”
Operation Party Boy is my mission for the night.
CHAPTER 8
My car’s headlights flash across the parking lot that was reserved for tonight. I hold up my VIP ticket to my window, and the security guard waves us through. The music up the street beats over the sound of my car’s engine. Linzi twists and turns, trying to adjust her pink tank top over her bikini top.
“Let me text Alston before we get out. We don’t want to walk