Tidal (16 page)

myself for being so difficult, so afraid of

starting a new relationship, afraid of

happiness, I grabbed my board and joined

Paige and Eric.

Chapter Ten

If Cooper was in a bad mood, he

didn’t show it Thursday morning during

our lesson. Maybe it was because for the

first time, we took on real waves and he

could tell I was scared shitless. Or

because he knew that after the weekend

was over, shooting would begin—which,

to be honest, also made me scared

shitless. When I spoke to James Dickson

and Kevin that evening on a conference

call, Dickson told me that some of the

crew had already started arriving.

“Yay for me,” I said because I knew

that the film crew and their cameras

would attract the paparazzi. Nikons and

Canons would suddenly become my worst

enemies again. I was ecstatic (and

shocked) that I hadn’t been photographed,

and I didn’t want it to end just yet.

“How’s the training going?” Dickson

asked, changing the subject.

I decided not to tell him how Cooper

had made me practice pop ups for days

and switched the game on me with paddle

boarding at one point. “We tackled small

waves today,” I said. It was the truth and

I’d only fallen once, taking in a mouthful

of salt. Cooper had told me I looked better

than some of the people he’d trained for

months, and I’d blushed like an idiot.

No matter how much I pushed him

away, that guy was slowly unraveling me.

“Small waves are good,” Kevin spoke

up enthusiastically, and I imagined him

fidgeting with his lower lip as he prayed I

wouldn’t say anything screwed up during

this call.

“I completely agree,” Dickson said.

He hesitated for a moment, then he asked,

“And you’ve got the script down?”

“Not only have I watched the original

like 20 times now, I know Alyssa Mayer

better than I know Willow Avery,” I said,

referring to the girl I was about to become

for at least the next month and a half of my

life, maybe even more. I liked the escape

of being someone else for a little while,

even if that imaginary person had already

been played by another actress.

Dickson sighed. “Perfect. I’ve got to

go to dinner with my wife, but I’ll see you

at the end of the weekend. You be good,

Willow.”

“Can’t wait,” I said. As soon as the

conference call was disconnected, Kevin

called me back and asked a million more

questions. I answered them as I shuffled

around the kitchen preparing my dinner—

tilapia and half a baked sweet potato.

As I stared at the fish in my plate, I

found myself wondering what Cooper,

Paige, and Eric were eating tonight.

“Willow? Willow?”

I sat down alone at the kitchen table

and pulled a rush of air through my

clenched teeth. “Yes?”

“You’re distant tonight. You’re not . . .

doing anything are you? Tom Miller

refuses to answer any of my messages so .

. .”

Dropping my fork onto my plate, I

demanded. “You’re pumping my

bodyguard about me?”

Kevin was unapologetic. “We need

you at your best for this film.”

“Thanks for fucking believing in me,

but the answer is no, I’m not on anything.

Leave Miller alone.”

When we hung up shortly thereafter, I

hoped Kevin wouldn’t call back anytime

soon. I knew he meant well—in his own

way—but space from him was often a

good thing.

The next morning, when Miller came

downstairs to take me to surf lessons, the

conversation with Kevin was still fresh on

my mind. “Not quite done dressing,” I

said, holding the door open for him to

come inside. He sat in the recliner close

to the door, staring at the toes of his white,

K-Swiss sneakers as I rushed to find the

black tank top I’d picked out for myself

earlier. When I located it between the

couch and one of the side tables, I heaved

a sigh.

“I need to clean up,” I muttered and

Miller shook his head in agreement. After

I pulled the top over my head and tied my

dark hair up into a high ponytail, I sighed.

“Miller, I’m just going to get this out right

now—thank you.”

He cocked an eyebrow and tilted his

head to one side. “For what?”

“For making these last several days

not completely suck. For not wanting to . .

. well, you know. For not reporting my

every move to my agent.”

Miller had tanned recently at the

nearby gym he’d joined, but his flush was

still vivid. He shuffled his feet together.

“Have to say, Willow, you’re creeping me

out.”

“I know that I can be . . .” The words

Cooper had directed at me played in my

mind again, and I trembled before slinking

down on the edge of the couch to put on

my shoes. “I know that I’m difficult, but

thanks for not talking to my agent about

me.”

Miller lifted his giant shoulders. “I’m

here for you. Not your agent or your

parents or James Dickson. And truth be

told, I’m doing a shitty job.”

Biting my lip, I frowned and clutched

my flip flop, bending the rubbery material.

“What do you mean?” Had I misread him?

“You’re not exactly hard to guard.

You go to your lessons, to your community

service, and you go home.”

Relaxing, I slid my shoe on and

grabbed my bag from the floor. “Thanks

for reminding how boring I am.” When I

winked at him, he chuckled. “Ready?” I

asked, walking to the front door.

“You’ve got it, boss.”

When we arrived at Cooper’s place,

not only was Paige’s gray Grand Caravan

there, parked behind Eric’s truck, but

when I went inside, Cooper met me in the

foyer with his finger over his mouth.

“They’re asleep in the den,” he

mouthed, sliding his hand into mine to

guide me outside. Delicious tingles crept

up my arm, through the rest of my body,

and as the warning bells in my head went

off, I ignored them. “Ready to bomb?” he

asked once we were on the deck. I cocked

an eyebrow and he laughed, shaking his

head. “Shit, surfer talk. Um . . . you ready

to try a big wave?”

“Totally amped,” I said.

As he turned to pick up our boards

from the deck floor, I stopped him,

wrapping my fingertips around his

forearm. He stared at me with questioning

eyes as I leaned in close to finally read the

tattoo running up his side. “And quiet

sleep and a sweet dream when the long

trick's over,” I murmured aloud.

“It’s a quote. John Masefield.”

Nodding, I took things a step further,

reaching out to touch him. He went still,

but he didn’t stop me as I traced my

fingertip over each intricate letter.

“If that were only your tongue,” he

said once I was finished. He grabbed the

boards and stood to face me. Even though

there were several inches of fiberglass

wedged between our bodies, I could

practically feel his on top of mine. I wet

my lips, and he groaned. “I wasn’t exactly

talking about on your own lips, but that

works.”

I pulled my board out of his grip, my

fingertips skimming his, and balanced it

on top of my head. “I’m sorry,” I said, as

we padded barefoot to where the waves

were crashing more violently than any day

I’d been here. He gave me a look, waiting

for me to elaborate, and I sighed. Why did

he have to make it so hard? “About the

other night. Being so . . .”

“Difficult?”

“Don’t be a dick.”

“I’m not the one apologizing for being

difficult, am I?”

I sighed, shaking my head, and

shuffled my feet, kicking up sand. “I’m not

good with relationships,” I said.

“We could learn,” he said, and I

shivered. “But for now, let’s just enjoy

this.”

We pushed our boards into the sea,

sloshing out past the white water. Once

the water came up just under my breasts,

Cooper nodded. “Okay, push off the floor

with your feet and—”

Before he could finish speaking, I

kicked off the sand with balls of my feet

and easily slid my body onto the purple

and white board. I looked over at him,

grinning, as I began to paddle my arms

through the water using long strokes. He

was right behind me.

“Confident much?” he asked.

“I’ve got the best teacher, don’t I?”

He tilted his head back. “Well, yes,

but I don’t want you to get in over your

head.”

“You said you’ll look after me,” I said

teasingly, but the fiercely protective

expression that took over his face made

some of that light-heartedness disappear.

When he looked at me like that, I felt like

the sea could drain dry and he wouldn’t

even notice.

“Always,” he said. Then he frowned,

breaking our eye contact, and shook his

head. “We’re too far out, Wills. Let’s go

back some.”

“Lame ass,” I said, but I began to

paddle my board around to take his

advice. I expected him to come back with

something witty and sexy or so intense it

made my stomach and between my legs

hurt. “What no come back?” I asked.

“Paddle back,” he said. “Now!”

It was only then that I saw, and heard,

the giant wall of water coming toward us.

My heart hurled itself into my throat,

choking me, and my body went numb. For

a moment, I couldn’t move or breathe—all

I could do was watch the wave grow

closer, bigger.

Cooper’s accented voice finally broke

through my haze, shouting over and over

again for me to paddle.

I pumped my arms hard, drifting my

board over the first wave. When I popped

up, taking on the second, I could have

sworn I heard Cooper say something. But

then the next swell came at me, knocking

me off my board. The sea crashed over my

head, dragging me beneath the white

water, and the only thing I heard was the

sound of my heart exploding inside of my

ears.

I fought the sea—tried to use the

surfboard string attached to my ankle to

claw myself back to the surface—but all

that did for me was yank me down even

further. When my feet touched the bottom,

terror ripped through my body.

Then, a pair of familiar arms wrapped

around my waist.

A moment later, Cooper and I broke

the surface, both of us gasping for air.

My head was spinning as he

whispered repeatedly, “You’re alright.”

I was numb as he helped me climb

onto my board. He pushed me back to

shore in silence, but once we hit the sand,

and he stood over me, examining me, all I

could think about was how he’d saved me.

How he’d found me.

But a moment later when I wrapped

myself around him, seeking out his tongue

with my own, he pushed away from me.

“You almost drowned, Wills,” he said

through clenched teeth.

He was rejecting me. Holy fuck he

was actually rejecting me after all the

effort he’d put into telling me how much

he wanted me.

I wouldn’t let him know how badly

that stung. Trying to seem nonchalant

about the fact I’d almost drowned and

he’d shoved me away only moments later,

I said, “Thanks for looking out for me.” I

turned away from him, yanking my

hairband out, releasing my dark hair to

tumble down my back in a mess of tangles.

When I faced him again, his body tensed

up, and I mentally slapped myself.

“What I mean is—thank you for

pulling me back in. I don’t want to drown

before . . .”

Before what, Willow? Before you can

fuck up again?

I ignored that voice, bending down

when he did to help him pick up our

boards. Our hands reached for my purple

one at the exact same time and he had no

other choice but look up.

“I’m okay,” I whispered, unable to

form any other words.

He laughed, shaking his head, as he

tugged the board from my grip and stood

up. “When you’re like this, I can’t—”

“Can’t what?”

He started the trek back to his house,

so I scrambled to my feet, ignoring my

aching muscles and caught up to him. He

looked down at me and gave me a tortured

smile. Didn’t he know I was a sucker for

angsty, tortured looks?

“I want to kiss you. Again and again,”

he said in a hoarse voice.

“You had your chance, so why didn’t

you?” I demanded. He gave me a dark

look and started to turn away, but I

grabbed his free arm, forcing him to look

at me. “Don’t be fucking wishy-washy,

Cooper.”

He threw both the boards down. They

fell into the sand, clanged against each

other, as he yanked my body against his. I