Chapter Seventy - One - Happier

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Eli -

Walking onto that white sandy beach in Malibu was like walking back in time. The way the silky grains felt beneath my feet, the call of the seagulls, the girl in the ocean...

I'd tried to stay away this past year, promoting yet another movie, traveling the world, dating girls I didn't really care about. All in the hopes that I could forget about that video. The one where Ethan Hawthorn dropped down onto one knee.

I raked a hand through my new buzz cut. My agent had asked me to clip it in preparation for my next movie roll, one where I'd play an army veteran with a heavy dose of PTSD, and an even heavier drug habit. The rumor mill was already churning, creating Oscar buzz, despite it barely being in pre-production. Fucking Hollywood with all it's pretense and expectation.

The girl in front of me suddenly popped up on a white surf board, and road it with ease, swirling along the crest of the wave. Her tall, lithe body looked flawless despite the black rubbery wetsuit. Her naturally blonde hair was pulled back into a low bun, the way she'd always wore it like that when she surfed. Even when we were kids, she'd hand me her hair elastic and ask for me to clump it up into a bun at the nape of her neck.

Slowly, the tide surged, and brought her closer to me and our eyes finally locked. One green, one blue, separated by an ocean of friendship, and countless fuck-ups on my part.

"Eli!" Avery screamed, bounding off the surfboard and jogged across the foamy water toward me, not even bothering to do the 'stingray shuffle'.

"Hey, kid." She threw her arms around me, not caring that she was soaking my T-shirt.

"Are you ever going to quit calling me that?! I'm almost twenty-eight years old."

"Not yet. Not until Monday." I grinned easily at her. God, she was beautiful in the setting sun. The pinks and golds in the sky, brought out the golden undertones of her skin.

"I'm glad you're here."

"Like I had a choice." I rolled my eyes.

She'd called and practically begged me to come home for her birthday. Her friends were having an 'intimate' dinner tonight, and then throwing some lavish party at her L.A. house...the one she'd shared with Hawthorn.  Neither of which sounded like my cup of tea.

It wasn't that I didn't want to spend her birthday with her. God I did. It was that I didn't want to spend it with them. Watching and wanting in the corner of the room, like some loser, while they smiled and touched on each other. I wondered if that was how Avery felt in high school with Denise and me. Fucking Denise Leibovich.

"Can you help me out?" She was hopping around, struggling to reach the top string of her wetsuit.

"Sure." I stepped forward and unzipped it to the middle of her back, careful not to touch her, as my eyes stayed glued to the waves. I didn't want to look at her. It was too fucking painful.

Still, as she stripped the thing off and reached for her beach towel my traitorous eyes caught sight of her. All tanned and toned, and as gorgeous as ever, in her black thong bathing suit not unlike the one from that first summer I came back. The stabbing in my heart intensified.

"Did you find the place okay?" She asked, towel drying her hair, and her glorious boobs bounced a little. I pretended not to notice, which was perhaps my greatest acting accomplishment to date.

"Of course I found it okay. It hasn't been that long." I rubbed the back of my neck, smirking like I had all the confidence in the world.

"Yeah, only a year and a half."

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