[wattpad editor's picks, nov-dec 2023]
After a one night stand in Monaco between a fallen from grace championship surfer and an up and coming Formula One star, the two are sure they'll never see each other again...but what happens in Monaco doesn't...
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t w o w e e k s l a t e r
I usually considered myself a sunny person. People often underestimated how much your environment affects the type of person you grow up to be, but I knew growing up in Encinitas injected a type of sunshine in my veins that most people didn't have.
The same could be said for Gemma, whose generally chilly disposition mirrored the dismal overcast of the city she'd called home for over 10 years. She looked in her element as I caught sight of her through the crowd, standing on the train platform with a black jumper and sharp, dark aviator sunglasses, waving her hand casually as she was engrossed in what seemed to be a displeasing phone conversation. I could practically feel the eye roll behind the lenses of her sunglasses.
I'd taken a train right from France, still lugging around my surfboard and some sand in questionable places from the Roxy Pro event in Hossegor out on the coast. I'd secured an actual, legitimate 3rd place, which kept me in the top 10 in the world rankings. Despite the beating my body took, my mind was elsewhere, floating on a cloud and not contemplating the drop back down. I was going to enjoy my weekend in London with my best friend, and nothing was going to fuck that up for me.
Still suckered into her phone call, Gemma didn't initially notice me walking up to her. With a smirk curling up my lips, I popped up in front of her, nearly causing her to jump out of her Gucci trainers.
"Hi." I grinned widely at her.
Gemma put her hand to her chest as she hung her phone up with her other hand, shaking her head slowly at me. "I was about a tenth of a second away from hitting you."
I pulled her into a hug, squeezing the near life out of her and enveloping myself in her citrusy, woodsy smell. Gemma had been wearing Mademoiselle Chanel since she was tall enough to reach over the perfume counter at Harrods, and the familiarity of it made me warm.
"I missed you," I mumbled into her shoulder, feeling the soft cotton of her jumper brush against my cheek.
"I missed you too." Gemma pulled away and gave me one of her wide, perfect white toothed smiles. When you spend such long periods of time away from someone close to you, seeing them fills the little spaces in your heart that grow in their absence. That's not to say that when you leave, it tears the stitches open all over again. Long distance friendships were hard enough. Long distance relationships were like holding an anchor and jumping into dark water, never sure of when you'd hit the bottom.
Gemma expertly led us through the dissipating lunch crowd of Kings Cross Station, but I still nearly decapitated a man in a suit with my surfboard.
"You couldn't have sent that back home?" she groaned.
"And trust it in the hands of strangers?" I scoffed. "I'm offended you'd even suggest such a thing."
It didn't change the fact that we now had to strap a 7 foot long surfboard to the roof of Gemma's Audi, which was nearly an insurmountable task for two tiny girls. When I finished hooking in the final bungee cord, I skirted around to the passenger side door, nearly knocking Gemma over in the process, who glared at me.
