Riptide - By Lindsey Scheibe Page 0,16
wearing clothes I don’t like, working out with Ford. Then come the big fears. The possibility of having surfing taken away if I screw up in school and lose my class rank. Not knowing when Dad’s going to explode. Whether or not I will be able to bring it to the Crazy John’s Surf Comp. It’s like being on an out-of-control tilt-a-whirl at a carnival. Even on a dream weekend, I can’t escape the stress of home.
I wonder what Ford’s thinking about.
I whisper, “You awake?”
“Yeah.”
“Wanna talk?”
His bed creaks as he rolls over. “If you do.”
I hesitate and then whisper-yell, “Incoming!” I stifle a laugh as best I can, already feeling my back muscles loosening up as I grab a beanbag chair and tiptoe-run to his bed. If his mom comes in we’re toast, but I don’t care. I want to be near him. I want to be safe.
He scoots over and pulls back the coversnink the c. “Don’t worry. I sleep naked.”
“Ew.”
“Kidding, Parker.”
I throw the beanbag next to me at the end of his bed and sit cross-legged, nervous about being so close to him and aching to be held.
He gets up, grabs the beanbag from beside me, and sets it onto the floor against the side of the bed. Then he swoops me down onto the beanbag with him. His arm around my waist, with just my pajamas between us, makes me shiver. In one quick swoop, he grabs the blanket off his bed and tucks it around me. I pull my arms out on top, needing that freedom—that control.
I croak, “Thanks.”
He clears his throat. “Yeah, sure. But don’t go thinking I’m easy. You know how it is these days. Word gets around that a guy’s easy and he becomes nothing more than a target to nail. You girls can be so shallow. A girl gets some and she’s a hero, a guy gets some and he’s a slut.”
I lean against him, playfully. “Ha ha.”
The inch between our bodies radiates with heat. If I move the slightest bit, his naked chest will be against my arm. He half turns on his side to face me, and the gap between us widens ever so slightly. Mirroring him, I roll onto my side, folded on the beanbag, unsure of what to do—hovering so close to the edge I could tumble off. Ford’s more than just a guy. He’s oxygen when I can’t breathe. Being this close relaxes me; I breathe a little deeper, taking in his soapy scent, holding on to anything good. I reach out and lay my arm in the middle of the space between us. He tilts his head and we lock eyes. I nibble my upper lip. He brushes his thumb across my mouth and says, “Don’t bite your lips, they’ll get chapped.”
A shiver runs through me and I wonder if this is real or not. I bite my lip again, and smile at the involuntary action. He smiles back and plants his hands in his lap, like he’s willing them to behave.
Ford says, “What’s going on? What’s important enough to risk The Wrath of Mama Watson?”
I stare at the shape of his fingernails; they’re wide and strong like his hands. He could engulf my hands with his big brown paws. “I don’t know. Stuff. Senior year. Class rank. The Parentals freak out about dumb stuff.”
“Dude, it’s summer. Don’t stress early. And welcome to the club. Lots of parents freak out over dumb stuff, especially senior year.”
“Yeah, right. I can so see your perfect parents blowing up.”
“Nobody’s parents are perfect. Everyone has issues.”
I snort. “Some more than others. What kinds of issues go on in your family? Your mom gets diagnosed with the messy absentminded-professor syndrome?”
“Uncool,” Ford says. “You’re not the only person in the world entitled to problems.”
I touch his hand. “Sorry. What are your parents freaking out over?”
“It’s not so much that my parents are freaking out. I put enough pressure on myself.” There’s a long pause as he glances down and fidgets with his hands. “This internship at your dad’s firm is important. It’s part of my resumé.” He scoots an inch away and pulls back while he looks me in the eyes. “I gotta be careful, make sure I don’t screw it all up.”
He’s so driven. He knows what he wants and goes for it. “What do you want to do? Really?” I ask.
Ford shrugs. “The only thing I want right now is to surf and hang out with you. Unless you wanna