"Life is like surfing a good wave. We have those moments where you feel as though you are on the top of the world and those where your life comes crashing down all around you."
Ainsley Matthews, ex-pro surfer, has been though a lot in the past. From...
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C H A P T E R E I G H T help me
shoot the curl: to surf through a barrel of a wave.
Following sitting in the back of Dawson's truck for what seemed like hours, we made our way onto the deserted streets as he drove off towards my house.
I was spitting out directions, telling him to turn left or right as I stared out at the road in front of us illuminated by the headlights of the truck and the streetlights hanging above.
"So.." I start breaking the silence after we drove down the main street in the direction of my place. "What made you head out to the house party tonight?"
He grips the steering wheel tighter, turning it to follow the curve in the road. "I was there with my friend Daniel, he was going there to try to pick up some girls and I was suppose to be his wingman. That was until you wandered up to me, drunk out of your mind. Guys kept staring at you like you were a piece of meat, so I stayed with you for the rest of the night."
I feel blood rushing to my cheeks as I turn my head to glance out the window hoping that he couldn't see me blushing in the dim light.
He lets out a small laugh as he turns his head towards me. "Your friends seemed a little bit crazy last night. When we were dancing together I'm pretty sure Miranda had almost fainted."
"Doesn't surprise me there with that one, my friends are characters to say the least. Besides, I haven't been with a guy in a couple of years so i'm sure that they were shocked to even see me within three feet of the other gender."
"In years?" He exclaims, shock evident in his voice. "I find that one hard to believe."
"There's no point in it. What am I going to do? Date a guy for a year or so? I'd catch feelings and then it would make leaving so much more difficult. Besides, guys here are assholes anyways."
"Oh so now i'm an asshole? Let me just add that to the lists of generic terms to describe guys." Dawson says as he turns into my driveway.
As much as I hate to admit it, he wasn't an asshole. Annoying for sure, but not an asshole.
I turned to look at him as his face was illuminated by the porch lights coming from my house. Even in the dim light his features were prominent. His chiseled jaw line with the slight shadow of stubble, his brown eyes flaked with gold specs seemed to shimmer, and the smirk tugging at the corner of his lip cast me under his spell.
"Are you done checking me out?" He asks with a laugh that snaps me out of my trance. "Your mothers has been staring out the window for a little while now."
