The XOXO New Adult Collection: 16 Full Length New Adult Stories (197 page)

“Well, you were a total bitch.”

“I agree. I was.”

I hesitated, not sure I heard her right. “What?”

“I was,” she said. “I was out of line. I'm sorry.”

I wasn't sure what to say to that because it was the last thing I was expecting to hear.

“But guess what?” she said, poking me in the bare chest. “You've been keeping your own secrets from me.”

“Bullshit.”

“Really? You've never said three words to me about Jay.”

Now it was time for my face to flush.

“It's the elephant in the room,” she said. “Everyone knows about it, but you won't talk about it and everyone's afraid to ask.”

I didn't say anything.

“Just like my brother,” she said. “Everyone knows about it, but I don't talk about it and everyone's afraid to ask. Except for you.”

Now it felt like she was towering over me.

“So here's my offer,” she said, her voice even. “I think we both need to come clean. We both keep all this shit bottled up inside and it's not doing either of us any good. So you wanna ask me about my brother? You ask anything you want and I'll answer. But I get to do the same with Jay. You tell me, I'll tell you.” She reached in the bag and pulled out a twelve pack of Corona. “And I figured this might help both of us.”

I finally softened, more out of surprise than anything else. “A full twelve pack? I thought you'd put my limit at one.”

“I'm giving you a one night pass,” she said. “We're inside, out of public view and we aren't going anywhere.” She pulled a bottle out of the cardboard box and handed it to me. “All yours.”

I took the bottle. “You're drinking, too?”

She reached for another bottle and clinked it against mine. “Yep. If you can handle the questions and answers.”

I grabbed a bottle opener off the fridge, opened hers first, then mine. I took a long drink and smiled at her. “Game on.”

TWENTY SEVEN

Kellen

––––––––

I
was already on my third beer by the time we settled on the couch. I'd clicked off the TV and opened the back door so we could hear the ocean off in the distance.

“Alright,” Gina said, taking a long drink from her bottle. “Who's going first?”

I shrugged. “I don't care.” She'd caught me a little off-guard with her proposition and I was still trying to process the whole thing.

She eyed me, curious. “Fine. I'll go first.”

“So does that mean I'm asking the questions and you're answering?”

She shook her head. “No. I'm asking, you're answering.”

I raised the bottle to my lips and downed half the beer, a nervous anxiety washing over me. “Okay.”

She pointed her bottle at me and tucked her legs beneath her. “How long were you and Jay friends?”

I swallowed another mouthful of beer. She was cutting right to the chase, which was exactly what I'd expected her to do. She didn't beat around the bush and didn't waste time, not when it came to her job and apparently not when it came to asking questions about my past.

“Since we were kids,” I said. “Maybe third grade? We went to the same school. We played everything together. Baseball, basketball, whatever. He was already surfing when we hooked up. He showed me how to take care of my board, how to wax it, how to store it.”

“And you guys were best friends right away?”

“Not right away.” I let the memories seep back in a little. Jay and I in sixth grade, scrawny, awkward little shits trying to be bigger and better than we were. “But we just gradually started hanging out more and more, you know? It was just one of those things. We liked all of the same shit. I don't think we ever had a real fight ever.” I shook my head and smiled. “And food. We both loved food.”

She smiled back at me. “What kind?”

“Anything,” I said, thinking back to all the times we'd stuffed our faces. “Mexican, hamburgers, pizza, sandwiches. You name it. We could eat anything and we'd always try to see who could eat the most. It was almost always him. And I can eat. But he was in a whole other class.”

She finished her beer and reached for another one.

“He loved breakfast,” I said. I couldn't stop talking. It was like a dam had broken. “Pancakes and massive breakfast burritos. He could eat a dozen pancakes no problem. Or, like, three burritos. It was incredible.”

She nodded, drank some more, waited for me.

I stared into my bottle. “The morning we were up at Mavericks, he ate three and a half. Egg, cheese and sausage. He was saving the last half for when we were done. No idea why I remember that.”

That was a lie. I knew exactly why I'd remembered. Because he'd never gotten to finish it. Because the burrito had been waiting in the car. And Jay had never come back.

“Had you been up there before?”

I shook my head. “No. I'd always wanted to give it a shot. Jay wasn't interested in big waves, though. He'd passed on a couple of trips out to Cortes Bank.”

“What's that?”

“A place off San Diego where there's this crazy break out in the middle of the ocean,” I said. “Forty foot waves are the norm.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah. So he always passed on those,” I explained. “But I'd been pushing to go to Mavericks for maybe four years? And he kept putting me off. I told him I wouldn't go without him. And I finally got him to go.”

She ran her finger along the rim of her bottle. “Why'd he finally give in?”

I thought for a moment. “I think he just got tired of me asking. He knew I was going to keep getting on him about it. And I was doing a promo thing up in Santa Cruz so the timing was right. I made him come with and he finally said okay.”

She leaned to the side against the back of the couch, laying her head on the cushions. She didn't say anything; it was almost as if she knew that if she did, I might stop.

“Weather was decent,” I said slowly. Even though I was sitting in my house with Gina next to me, in my mind I was there. Up the coast, pulling on my wet suit, making my way down the cliff with Jay close behind. “Overcast, but not really cold. Wind wasn't bad, which was good for our first time there. The winds can be brutal and change everything in a heartbeat. I think he was actually relieved that the winds were calm.” I smiled, remembering the conversation. “He was actually more worried about me.”

“Why?”

“I'm not as strong of a swimmer as he was,” I said. There were so many times he'd given me a hard time about being a weaker swimmer. So many times I'd given him the finger, telling him he was full of crap, but knowing he was right. “And I'm good. But I was never as good as he was. That guy could outswim a seal. ”

I shifted on the sofa. I wasn't as good as Jay. Not as good at swimming and not as good at surfing. And I definitely wasn't as good of a human being.

“We managed to make it out there without too much trouble,” I told her, trying to get comfortable on the couch. But I was failing. Not because the couch was stiff or lumpy but because nothing was going to make me feel comfortable at that moment. It was like I was sitting on a bed of nails, each one of them piercing my flesh, the pain was so acute. “We made it out past the break and waited. He actually caught a wave first. No problems. Went right down the face, wave held and he exited easily. Moved out toward the rocks so he could paddle out again.”

I stared at the beer for a moment, then downed the rest of it before I continued.

“I caught my first,” I said. “It wasn't as good as his. Didn't have the same shape but it was still pretty big. Maybe twenty-five, thirty feet. Like being shot out of a cannon going down the face. It was incredible.” I paused, remembering. “It closed out on me a little quick, but I felt it coming and got out in time without getting tossed.” I looked at her, a bitter smile on my face. “We weren't virgins anymore.”

Gina returned the smile and there was sympathy and warmth in hers. I drank it in. She made me want to keep talking, made me want to finally purge everything that had been bottled up inside of me for the past six months.

“So I paddled back out to the lineup,” I said. “And it wasn't huge. Maybe a dozen guys? It wasn't a record size day and the hard core guys wait for those. So it wasn't crowded or anything. We waited. Me and Jay. We were laughing. All the anxiety was gone. Then his slot came up.” I paused. “And he said 'This is awesome, dude. I'm glad we're here.'”

She watched me while I struggled to find the words to say it, to say what happened next. Because she knew and I knew.

“Then the wave picked him up and he was off.”

I reached over and set the empty bottle on the coffee table and grabbed a full one. But I didn't pick up the bottle opener. I just held the bottle for a minute, twisting it slowly in my hands.

“Wave closed out a little early,” I said, my voice barely a whisper. “No big deal. It wasn't a crusher. But it closed out. And then I was up. Got on my wave and took it in. And I'm looking out in front of me, looking for him paddling parallel to the shore, to get out to where you can get around the swells. And he's not there.”

I spun the bottle some more, my throat constricting, my gut knotted. “And I just know. You know? I just know. I bail out of the wave. I'm looking around frantically. I can see the people up on the cliffs pointing at different areas. I can tell they're freaked out, too. I can hear people yelling, but it's hard to hear over the water. Couple of the other guys that were out there came in. We were all looking.” I swallowed. “And you just know. It's been too long. Ten minutes. So you just know.” I paused. “Then a couple of people on the cliff start pointing at the rocks. The Boneyard. Like, jumping up and down and pointing.” I flicked my finger against the bottle, the clinking sound echoing in the quiet living room. “He was face down. Leash was still on him, but no board. We never found it. We got him to shore, but...you just know.” I took a deep breath. “And Jay was gone. Just like that. Gone.”

I stared at the bottle in my hands a long time, my eyes watering over, blurring the logo on the glass. I felt her move on the couch, the cushions shifting beneath me. Then she was next to me, her arms around my neck, hugging me.

“I'm sorry,” she whispered.

I tried to answer, but couldn't find the words.

Instead, I just cried.

TWENTY EIGHT

Gina

Kellen excused himself, wiping at his eyes as he headed toward the bathroom. I watched him go, my own eyes wet with tears.

I picked up the bottle I'd been holding and brought it to my lips. I knew what it felt like to lose someone. I knew what it felt like to feel responsible, to feel like it was somehow your fault, to feel the regret and the remorse, to desperately want to go back and turn back the hands of time. And I knew how devastating it could be, knowing you couldn't.

My situation was different but I'd still lost someone. Someone I loved. I swallowed back the tears and lifted the bottle again, draining it before reaching for a third one. I'd just cracked it open and swallowed a mouthful when Kellen reappeared. He stood in the hallway, his eyes rimmed red, his chest still heaving a little.

“Hey,” he said, his voice hoarse. “I need a little air.”

“What?” I sat up. “What do you mean?”

He jerked his head toward the sliding door. “Just gonna go out to the beach for a minute.”

“Okay.”

He stared at me for a second, his arms hanging loosely by his side. “You...do you wanna come with?”

And I knew. I knew he didn't want to be alone. I knew he needed me. And I wanted to help, to be there for him, to do whatever he needed to do to get through the pain. Because I'd been there. That had been me three years ago. Heartbroken. Alone. And the people I would have turned to – the people who should have been there to comfort me, to help me through – were the ones I held responsible.

“Yeah,” I said, standing up. I polished off the beer. “I do.”

We stepped outside on to the deck and I stumbled a little. The beers had gone straight to my head and I tried to remember how many I'd had. Two? Three? I'd never been much of a drinker and even though I'd planned on finishing the whole case with Kellen, I hadn't realized how quickly it was going to affect me.

The sand felt cool and wet, as did the salty breeze. I shivered and wrapped my arms around me as we made our way to the shoreline. There was no moon tonight, tucked away behind a thick blanket of clouds.

Kellen walked all the way to the water's edge and the waves lapped at his bare feet. He was shirtless but he didn't shiver, didn't rub his arms like I was doing. He just stood there, his eyes locked on the horizon, as if he was searching for Jay, hoping he'd just walk out of the ocean, board in hand.

I reached out to touch his arm. “Hey,” I whispered.

He didn't look at me.

“Hey,” I said again, a little louder.

He pulled his gaze away from the water and looked at me. His eyes were dry, his features soft, but I could still see the pain etched into his face.

I tightened my grip on his arm. “It wasn't your fault,” I said.

He shook his head. “It was.”

“No. It wasn't.” My words were slightly slurred from the beer but I kept my voice firm.

“I made him go,” he said. He tore his gaze from me and looked back out at the water. “Goaded him into it. Egged him on.”

“He didn't have to do it.”

He shook his head. “He wasn't gonna say no to me. I made him do it. And he didn't want to. Wasn't comfortable. But he did it. For me.”

He didn't say anything more but he didn't have to. I knew what he was thinking. That Jay had done it for Kellen...and had gotten himself killed because of it. And I knew where that put Kellen. He felt responsible, as if Jay's death was all his fault.

“Kellen,” I said, my voice sharp. I dug my fingers into his arm. “
You
did not kill Jay. Do you hear me?
You
didn't do it. The blame does not lie with you. The ocean killed Jay. A wave, a missed breath, whatever it was that ended his life. Something went wrong. But it wasn't you. It wasn't your fault.”

He kicked at the sand just as a wave came ashore and a spray of water shot out in front of us. “Bullshit.”

He turned to me and I saw the unshed tears in his eyes and I knew I couldn't see him cry again. I couldn't let him feel that pain anymore. All I wanted to do was take it away, help him forget. So I did the only thing I could think of.