Chasing Xaris (4 page)

I ran faster against the cement, and then sand.
Jordan was waiting for me by the pier.

“I took good care of her,” he said, handing me my board.

“Knew you would,” I said.

I searched for Ari in the lineup. Farther down shore, only a couple surfers speckled the waters. Considering Ari’s loner tendencies, I guessed he was there.

Jordan attached the leash to his ankle. “Ready?”

“I’m going to head down shore,” I said.

Jordan’s eyes flickered. He shrugged and tucked his board under his arm.

“See you later, Miss Bloom,” he said, and jogged into the surf.

I watched his strong strides, feeling a rush of guilt. I had totally brushed him off. I’d done that a ton over the last two years, but somehow it felt different this morning. Worse. But I couldn’t think about Jordan right now. That would be way too much.

With my board underarm, I jogged down the beach, savoring the feel of sand between my toes. I
came to a stop and attached my leash before sprinting into the surf and diving onto my board.

My muscles warmed as I paddled. Water sprayed my face. I kept my head lifted and my gaze fixed ahead. Further out, a
surfer climbed a wave’s face and exploded at the lip, releasing his energy in a three-sixty degree spin.

No one else rode with that kind of force around here. It had to be Ari.

I

kept my eyes trained on the powerful surfer as he turned his board and paddled back out. When we both reached the edge of the lineup, I closed the gap between us.

“Ari!” I shouted.

He glanced my way and then steered his board in the opposite direction.

My cheeks burned. No way. He was not about to abandon me again.

“Wait up,” I called.

Ari’s arms froze. He frowned at me over his shoulder.

I returned his scowl and kept paddling. He’d started all of this, and he was going to help me finish it, whether he wanted to or not.

Just feet from him, I sat up on my board.

“Nice three-sixty,” I said.

“Thank you,” he said, sitting up on his board.

“Ever done a vertical backhand snap?” I asked.

“No, but you have.”

I raised an eyebrow. He had been watching me.

“Listen, I want to thank you for yesterday,” I said.

Ari nodded. “I surfed by the pier this morning before you arrived. No one said a word to me about the
shark.” He spoke with some kind of accent. I’d noticed it a couple of times before, but I’d never been able to place it.

“I didn’t think
you wanted me to broadcast it,” I said.

“I don’t.”

A flash of color drew my gaze to the small wheel tattoo beside his left eye. I had forgotten all about it and the bright gem in its center.

“I appreciate you keeping what happened yesterday to yourself,” Ari said. “All right?”

“Of course.”

His frown eased, but his posture, his gaze, everything about him remained alert. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine.” I paused. “So you did kill the shark?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It does to me. Do you carry a knife or something?”

“I might.”

“Why won’t you just tell me?”

“Why do you ask so many questions?”

I swallowed hard. “Because you knew my dad.”

Ari’s eyes flashed before turning blank. “What are you talking about?”

“You said his name and—”

“You must have dreamed that while you were passed out.”
              “I didn’t pass out.”

“You’re wrong,
” he said.

“I know what I heard.”

“What you dreamed.” Ari glanced over his shoulder at the next set of waves, then gave me a nod. “I’m glad you’re well.”

With that, he dropped to his stomach and paddled away from me.

“I’m not well,” I called out. But Ari didn’t turn around.

I pressed my stomach against my board, trying to bind the pain. I wanted to punch Ari in the ribs so he’d have to feel this, too. Maybe I could chase after him and badger him until he told me everything. But I knew that Ari wouldn’t cave even if I
did catch up to him—he was way too cold and guarded for that.

Was Ari behind my parents’ death
s? My gut told me no. Ari had said he missed my dad. But he still knew more than he was telling me.

With a sigh, I glanced at my watch and saw
I only had ten minutes left. Today of all days, I needed to catch at least one wave.

I positioned my board and readied myself for the familiar pull. The swell expanded. I dropped in on the wave’s shoulder with a strong bottom turn and crouched down. Glancing up, I found the perfect section of wave next to the whitewash. I dug my heels into the board’s edge and shot up the face. My board’s nose stuck straight up in the air. Swinging my hips, I whacked my board down into another bottom turn.

Wind and water whipped around me. The wave’s power surged under my feet. Bliss.

I carved the face of the wave and rode the whitewater the rest of the way. In the shallow water, I took off my leash and picked up my board. Farther out, Ari was trying my vertical backhand snap. He got caught at the top of the wave and fell into the whitewash. His board shot forward without him.

I smiled, savoring his defeat, and
trotted up the beach. Jordan was stepping out of the water when I passed the pier.

My feet slowed before I realized what I was doing.

“Leaving already?” Jordan asked.

“Grandpa,” I said simply. “You?”

“I have to give my report in Mr. Whit’s class today. Still have to finish.”

“You’re not ready?”

“All the slides are done. I just have to add some pictures.” Jordan shook out his blond hair, flicking me with water. “See you in class, Miss Bloom.” He gave me a quick pat on the arm and sprinted up the beach toward his yellow pickup in the parking lot. It always amazed me how much Jordan moved like a wave when he ran—fluid, bobbing, and inexplicably fast.

I watched him go, then began the run back to my grandparents’ house. I breathed in the salty air and let my thoughts turn to
Jordan. The guy did like to use pictures on his school reports. One time he’d used a photo of his uncle’s black lab in a report on President Andrew Jackson.

And then an image flashed across my mind—Jordan pointing to a picture of a wheel with a blue rim, green spokes, and a bright blue center. The same symbol as Ari’s tattoo.

My feet moved faster beneath me.

What had Jordan been presenting on? I tried to remember more of his slides but nothing came. The presentation had been over a year ago.

I groaned in frustration and hurried the rest of the way to my grandparents’ house. I texted Jordan, but he didn’t respond. Which meant I’d have to catch him before class. So I rushed through my morning routine, ate a quick breakfast with Gran and The Weather Channel, and then drove to school.

Once I’d parked, I made a bee line for the picnic tables. Jordan wasn’t there or by his locker. I went to Mr. Whit’s classroom next, thinking that maybe Jordan had headed to class early. He hadn’t.

I walked back to my desk and saw that Mr. Whit was reading another book with yellowed maps of
Florida. He was so absorbed that he didn’t even notice me as I sat down and waited.

Jordan didn’t slip into the classroom until the bell was ringing. I kept sneaking glances at him while other students presented. My fingers itched to text him, but Mr. Whit would totally see if I did.

“And now we’ll be hearing from Jordan Lane,” Mr. Whit announced, from his stool behind me.

“You lucky class,” Jordan said, rising to his feet.

I smiled and several people laughed. Winnie wasn’t one of them.

At the front of the room, Jordan pulled up his report on the computer. He cleared his throat and launched into his
report on the
Lusitania
, a British ocean liner sunk by a German U-boat during World War I. He had a smattering of pictures to accompany his report—the ship at port, the stern-looking captain, and a random picture of a sea otter. Still, despite the otter, the report was well-researched and Jordan was a natural speaker.

“
Gracias
Jordan,” Mr. Whit said. “Thank you for building that bridge from the past to the present. I think we’ve all learned a little more.”

“About sea otters,” Winnie muttered.

The bell rang and Mr. Whit dismissed us. Jordan jumped to his feet and left without even glancing in my direction.

I felt a slight pang, but then I reminded myself that Jordan and I weren’t close anymore. We’d talked yesterday and this morning, but that didn’t reverse all the ways I’d rejected him over the last two years.

“He’s incorrigible,” Winnie said, standing up from her desk.

I nodded numbly and listened as Winnie
talked about her online store during the walk to our lockers. Once we parted ways, I hurried to Jordan’s locker. But he had already disappeared. I didn’t see him during the next two class breaks either. So much waiting.

When lunch finally came, I made a beeline for the school’s inner courtyard, an oblong circle lined by queen palms and filled with picnic tables.
Jordan was sitting by himself at one of the tables.

My stomach fluttered as I neared him, and I took a deep breath to steady myself.

“Hey,” I said.

In one motion, Jordan shut a textbook and jumped to his feet. “Miss Bloom,” he said.

“Mr. Lane,” I said, and pointed to the textbook. “Studying?”

Jordan gave me a sly smile. “Maybe.”

“When did you get all studious and college-bound?”

He scooped up his textbook and dropped it in his backpack. “Yeah, right. Can you picture me at college?”

“Dude, if I can swing college, so can you.”

Jordan shrugged. “My brother asked me to hang around
next year after graduation and help with his surf school. I’ll probably do that.”

“You want to?”

“It sounds okay.”

“But is it what you really want?”

Jordan studied me. “Have you asked yourself that question?”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Are you still going to UF because Gramps says so?”

My cheeks warmed. “That’s none of your business,” I said, louder than I meant to.

Jordan’s eyes flickered. He shook his head and tossed his backpack over his shoulder.

“You’re right, Chandler. I guess it’s not anymore.” He turned and
strode away without looking back.

I wanted to call out to him, but instead I sank onto the table’s bench and stared at my shaking hands. What was happening to me? I hadn’t felt this weak in months.

I inhaled and exhaled deeply. Yes, I needed to breathe. In and out. And bit by bit, the aching dimmed.

I had to apologize to Jordan. Of course my life was his business. Maybe we didn’t hang out anymore, but we still cared about each other. At least I thought we did.

Without warning, I remembered our first kiss. Our only kiss. We’d both had epic surf sessions, and we’d been standing on the beach, not saying a word, just gazing out at the blue lines of sky and sea. He’d boldly stepped in front of me and slipped his arms around my waist.

His hold had been firm, but his eyes had been gentle. His cocky grin had completely disappeared. He’d raised an eyebrow in question, and I’d nodded, my heart racing, my whole body pulsing. And then he’d kissed me for a long, long time.

I’d savored every second of it—the sunlight, the salt water, the sensation of his lips caressing mine. He’d smelled like sand and sunblock and that day had been glorious. But exactly one week later, my parents had died.

Jordan had brought up our kiss only once since then, a few months after the funeral. I’d snapped at him then. Sort of like I just did.

I exhaled slowly. It wasn’t Jordan’s fault I had become all prickly around him. But he had a way of coming too close. He wasn’t like other guys—he wouldn’t just talk about the surf. He loved getting into life stuff, asking tons of questions and expecting honest answers.

Before the accident, I’d loved that about Jordan. Most of the time. If I’d had one of my rare fights with
Mom, Jordan had always found out. I had never wanted to talk about it with him, but then, I’d always felt better after I had.

I couldn’t talk like that now, though. Not with everything that had happened. But I could apologize for snapping at him again.
Jordan deserved that much.

I headed back into school, but he had disappeared. I didn’t see him again the rest of the afternoon—which probably wasn’t a coincidence.

After school, I changed into my swimsuit, grabbed a baggie full of cookies, and hopped onto my bike. If Jordan wouldn’t answer my calls, I’d have to apologize in person. I wanted to make things right with him—and I still needed to ask him about the shark slayer legend.

As I peda
led along A1A, my stomach was a tangle of nerves. I hadn’t been to Jordan’s in forever and I was going over completely uninvited. I focused on the ocean to my left and vowed to catch some waves before dinner. Jordan was probably thinking the same thing.

I turned right on Sunrise Boulevard and passed high-rise luxury apartments and hotels painted in creams, tangerines, and reds. Once I crossed the intercoastal, I turned left into
Jordan’s neighborhood and peddled down streets lined with palms, rubber plants, and white-blossom trees.

At Jordan’s, I parked my bike in the driveway and grabbed the bag of cookies. I clutched it to my chest like a shield and walked up the cracked sidewalk. Everything looked so… familiar. The grass needed mowing, the porch swing looked ready to break if anyone sat down, and sand and rust covered the beach bikes on the porch. But this place reminded me of home way more than anywhere else.

I knocked on the blue front door and felt a faint ache between my ribs. Fantastic. I hadn’t even seen the guy yet, and my body was already freaking out on me.

The front door creaked open.
Jordan stood there, blinking in surprise and saying absolutely nothing.

My cheeks warmed, and I stared down at the cookies. This had been a horrible idea. I should have left him a voicemail and hoped he’d call back.