Dawn Patrol (Surfer Girl)
Dawn Patrol
Surfer Girl, Volume 1
Analei Skye
Published by Mc Kellson Press, 2019.
This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.
DAWN PATROL
First edition. September 29, 2019.
Copyright © 2019 Analei Skye.
ISBN: 978-1393700487
Written by Analei Skye.
Surfer Girl is for all the girls whose hearts aren't mean to be tamed. The ones who run free until they find someone wild enough to run with them.
Surfer Girl
Dawn Patrol
Analei Skye
Contents
Summary
Prologue
1. Winter formal age 17
2. Brenna Sinclair: Stolen Kisses, age 11
3. Sophomore Year: The Zings are a thing, age 15
4. Brenna Sinclair, Junior Year: First Day of School, age almost 16
5. Noah Hartley, My 16th Birthday: Fuck It Age, 15
6. Brenna Sinclair, Accidental Quadruple Date, age 16
7. Brenna Sinclair, the Noah Effect, age 16
8. Brenna Sinclair, Waaaaaayyyyy too Early for this, age 16
9. Brenna Sinclair, I don’t get boys, especially this one, age 16
10. Brenna Sinclair, Holy Crap, age 16
11. Noah Hartley, I keep fucking up, age 16
12. Noah Hartley, About last night… age 16
13. Brenna Sinclair, Faking It, age 16
14. Noah, Gap year countdown: 6 months, age 16
15. Brenna Sinclair, Apologies are everything, age 16
16. Noah Hartley, Layin it all on the line, age 16
17. Brenna Sinclair, Did that just happen, age 16
About the Author
Summary
Aiden is a golden boy; with piercing blue eyes and blonde hair that always looks perfect, even after hours of sweating on a field at Rugby practice- he’s the guy every girl wants. The one who rescues me, makes me laugh and knows all my secrets. Loving Aiden is like being on a roller coaster ride when your stomach does that flippy floppy thing. He has an infectious smile, abs to die for and is the guy every girl crushes on.
Then there’s Noah. Loveable, annoying Noah, who also happens to be my brothers best friend. Noah has ocean styled hair, a smile that stops my heart, golden brown eyes, and the sexiest voice I've ever heard. He’s the boy I surf with every morning before dawn and the boy I sneak out with at night; the one who can read my mind and knows just how to make me smile. He's the boy who keeps getting hotter and hotter which makes it hard to stop staring-he's also off limits which makes him the boy who breaks my heart over and over again.
They will both teach me about love.
But, only one of them will win my heart.
* * *
Cliff Hanger Warning:
This Book is a series. It ends on a cliff hanger. I hate finding that out at the end, I thought you might too. : )
Prologue
Life Changing Decision, age 25
* * *
Dear Diary: Love is messy, it should come with a warning label. It doesn’t. In fact, it seduced me with so much force I fell wildly, helplessly into it. Love didn’t want me though, and I tumbled into heartbreak. Spiraled into it really and crashed headfirst into the single decision that will transform my life…if only I could make it. -Brenna
My life can be neatly divided into three sections. Noah. Aiden. And…everything else. This is the story of Noah. He’s the boy who helps me remember. He’s the one who sears my soul and breaks my heart. He’s done it more times than I can count. Noah is the boy my disobedient heart won’t stop loving no matter how many times I’ve tried. He’s also the one who sees me--all of me. Loving Noah is like being lured by a siren onto a flaming star. It’s intense, and bright and addicting, and I don’t know if it’s worth it.
Then, there’s Aiden. He helps me forget. Aiden is soft and easy in all the places Noah is hard and difficult. Loving Aiden is like being on a roller coaster ride where your heart does that flippy-floppy thing. Aiden and I can talk for hours, he makes me snort laugh and dares me on wild adventures. He’s so playful it’s hard to feel any other emotion except happiness. But happiness can turn stale when there’s nothing else.
Not all love stories end in happily ever after--mine certainly never did. My relationships were never the kind where people fall in love from day one and shoot moonbeams out their asses and wear matching outfits (not that that was ever my goal). But, happily ever after? No, not even close. More like messy, tangled heartbreak with moments of supreme bliss, a lot of wondering what the heck, and a good dose of self-loathing until in those deep dark places, you realize the truth. Finding worth in someone else’s eyes will never lead to happiness. Eagles meet soaring in the sky, not crawling on the ground. I’m an Eagle, no longer will I crawl. And that truth makes it worth it. This is my love story. I worked hard for it, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
1
Winter formal age 17
Dear Diary: There was a time I believed in love. A time I was willing to bet everything on it. But time moved on, and with it, so did I. – Brenna
* * *
I will not cry, I will not cry, I will NOT cry. I repeat to myself to stop the tears I can feel flooding my eyes. I look everywhere but at him. The boy who just broke my heart. In all the ways I imagined this day going, this was not it. This is worse than not it; this is a betrayal. I have enough pride left not to let him see me cry.
I look around the bonfire. Everyone is either pretending to focus on something else or is too drunk to give a crap. I pull down the cream slip of my dress that has ridden up my thigh; I don’t want to flash everyone when I stand. I can feel his eyes on me. I avoid them. Looking at him will make me want to punch him, but then I’d cry, and I just want to escape.
I’m an idiot. My heart wants to break into a million pieces.
I hold myself together long enough to let it fall apart in quiet. I imagine I look like I swallowed a lemon, holding back all this emotion can’t be good for me.
If he and I were alone, I’d rush into the ocean and swim, but I’m not alone. I’m on a beach with a bunch of stupid, drunk people, half of whom have already stripped into their bras and underwear to skinny dip. Now, I’m even more pissed that he didn’t have the decency to break my heart in private. I hold in the sobs that want to rush out of me and scrunch through the sand, not caring if I kick it into the beer of the people sitting along my path.
My stupid eyes betray me and do the one thing I swore to myself I wouldn’t do. I look back. He’s sitting in the sand, head resting on his knees, watching me with the saddest look on his face. For a moment I can feel him. Feel us. This weird connection we share that tells me everything he won’t say. It takes me back to the memory of the first time he and I were sitting on this beach crying. It’s where it all started really. Only that time felt like a beginning and this, well, this is the end.
2
Brenna Sinclair: Stolen Kisses, age 11
Dear Diary: Today, I got my first kiss. One word. . .stolen. Who does that? Oh yeah, Hollywood does. - Brenna
* * *
Noah was the first boy, ever, to kiss me. We were eleven, and I had just made one of the worst mistakes I’d ever made. One of my uncle Tommy’s biggest rules is NOT to touch his boards. We weren’t even allowed to breathe on them until we were ready to ride one. He said we had to pay our dues and learn on “foamies” until he deemed us good enough. But good enough was taking way too long, so I snuck one of Uncle Tommy’s sleek, handcrafted fiberglass boards with his loopy signature etched along its spine out of the surf storage and headed to the beach.
Did I mention Uncle Tommy is a surfing legend? He and my dad grew up surfing this break. It’s famous for its winter swells where the waves can become huge--and deadly. One time they reached nearly thirty feet. Most days it’s just a reliable wave with a heavy lip that thrives on taking out even the most experienced surfers. From the shore it looks like any old beach in Southern California. It has soft golden sand and azure blue water that turns green or gray depending upon the moods of the sun and sky. The beach lies hidden behind the obscene affluence of modern glass homes rivaling the size of the White House. But if you were to look at it from the sky? You’d see an ocean bottom formed from razor sharp reef that creates a steep underwater ramp with troughs on either side. On the right days, air temperature, physics, and math collide to form some of the gnarliest swells around.
“What are you doing, Bren?” I almost jumped out of my skin and yelped.
“Geez, Noah, you scared me.” I was tiptoeing like a super spy. I didn’t actually expect to get caught since Uncle Tommy had already left for the day. Tiptoeing just felt sneakier.
“Bren, seriously. What the heck are you doing walking like an idiot with Mr. T’s board?”
“Shhhh! Do you have to yell?” I swiveled my head wildly scanning the beach for anyone who might have heard him and come out—namely, my parents. “And I’m not walking like an idiot. I’m in spy mode.” I said it like it was a thing (it’s not, but I suddenly felt self-conscious).
“You should work on your spy mode. And Mr. T will kill you. ‘Throw you out of a plane, feed you to sharks, grab the shark poo and feed you to sharks again’ kill you. Remember?’
I laughed. Uncle Tommy liked to make up ridiculous death threats, but part of me was scared that he might actually f
ollow through on this one.
“Just one wave. Then, I’ll put it back and grab a foamie.” Maybe. I kept the maybe to myself though. I wasn’t sure I’d follow through on my promise once I got a taste. Truthfully, I was tired of going straight to shore. I wanted to turn with the wave and really ride it.
“Ballsy, Bren.”
I shrugged and stood taller, pretending like it was no big deal. “It’ll be fine.”
“Seriously?” Noah arched an eyebrow. “Wait up, I’m coming too.” I didn’t wait. I started walking to the ocean while Noah ran to the shed and grabbed his own board, a bright blue foamie whose stripes screamed ‘I have no idea what I’m doing in the ocean!’ It’s the standard learner board. Everyone who will crash into you, take off on your wave and basically have no clue how to surf will be riding it. I was already waist-deep and about to jump on when Noah paddled next to me.
“Your death.” He shook his head but slowed his pace to stay alongside me. Protector Noah in full effect, saving me from myself since day one. Well, technically day three, when our moms introduced us at the hospital.
“You mean my epic ride?” I leapt up to pop on and nearly fell off headfirst. Noah laughed but slid off his board to grab mine.
“Did you wax it?”
Damn. I didn’t, but I wasn’t about to admit that. Noah just rolled his eyes but held the back of the board steady while I got back on.
“You’re too far forward, Bren. You’ve gotta get the nose out of the water.”
“I got this,” I said, irritated that Noah thought he knew so much more about real boards than I did.
Once on, I began paddling. It was slower and harder than I was used to. Rather than gliding over the water, I kept sliding around and had to work twice as hard just to stay on Uncle Tommy’s board.
“Try white water first.”
I ignored him and paddled past the broken waves to the line-up where I could catch my one big ride. Finding my spot, I straddled the board and waited. The tension in my gut swirled its way up to my throat. It’s no big deal, I told myself, over and over again. The breeze on my face felt good. The balance point on this board was different, forcing me to keep correcting, but I could do this.
When the set rolled in, I paddled hard but barely moved. This board was thinner than I was used to. It wasn’t bulky enough to catch speed on its own, and I needed to do something stat or I’d end up on the wrong side of the wave and be slaughtered. Panic rose inside of me, making me overcorrect and paddle wildly. Mistake one (we’re not counting the parts where I stole the board and forgot to wax it).
Each wild scoop of water thrust the board forward. Sweat dripped down my temples and into my eyes. Which is a weird sensation when you’re surrounded by chilly water, like running a marathon in the snow. I had gained enough momentum to pick up speed and take the drop. The wave rose behind me and I could feel that little tick, a split second that feels like the ocean grew hands and pulls back on the board just before it fully connects with the ocean, signaling make or break time. Either I leap to my feet and drop down the face of the wave or I miss my chance and tumble into oblivion as the wave swallows me whole. My gut had taken up residence in my throat. I squeezed my eyes shut, grabbed the rails, and pulled my feet forward, squatting between my hands just like my muscles had memorized from performing hundreds of popups.
Mistake two. My wild paddling had moved me off center, pushed the nose downward and made it impossible for the board to connect with the ocean. The angle was too steep, and I didn’t know how to correct for it. Rather than balancing the board on the wave like a teeter-totter, I nosedived headfirst into the reef. What happened next was a blur of tangled hair, sea salt, and Noah yelling for me from what seemed to be a great distance away.
My shoulder hit the reef first. Razor-like coral took a bite out of my arm before the wave collapsed on my head, forcing me deeper under water and dragging the entire left side of my body across the coral’s sharpened blades. Instinct curled me into a ball to protect my head and face, but the wave wasn’t done with me. Around and around I went before it spit me out onto soft sand, letting me know I had finally cleared the reef.
“Brenna.” The quiver in Noah’s voice made me panic.
I turned toward him and began to lightly swim in his direction, leaving a blood-stained trail in the water. The exertion made me light-headed.
“Noah. The board.”
I turned around and screamed for it, as though it had ears and could hear me, telling me where to find it.
“Bren, forget about the board. Are you okay?” He quickly swam towards me and started to pull me to him.
“Uncle Tommy’s board?” I pushed him away. “I have to find it.”
“Bren… it snapped.”
“I know--I felt the leash break. Where’d the board go, though?”
“Bren…not the leash. The board. It snapped on the reef.”
“No. Nooo, no, it didn’t. It couldn’t.” Fear wound its way around my chest, making it hard to breathe. My stomach heaved and I shut my mouth, so I didn’t throw up. Noah dragged me out of the water, but my legs wouldn’t cooperate. He plopped me down on the shore and hugged me tight to him as the white water spit a piece of Uncle Tommy’s board at me like a giant eff you, signed, The Ocean.
I put my head on my knees while Noah carefully inspected my wounds. Coral has a way of spreading. From a single scratch there was a network of scrapes and rashes that overlapped and fanned out like little inflamed grid marks. The entire left side of my body--front and back--looked like I’d received a beating and then rubbed poison oak into my skin.
“Bren…I was so scared. That reef could have killed you.” I nodded my head in agreement. “What were you thinking taking off on shallow reef?” Hot tears rolled down my cheeks. I forgot Uncle Tommy’s other cardinal rule: Always check the depth of the reef before taking off I could hear his voice ringing in my ears. “If you get caught on the shallow side,” making a slicing motion over his neck with his hand, “you could die--or worse--break your board.” Mistake number billion and three.
I don’t know how long we sat there with Noah hugging me to him. Me all rashy and crying. When the wind grew chilly and the sun began to drop, Noah finally broke the silence.
“Bren, we’ve gotta go.” I shook my head. “I can’t.”
“Bren. It’ll be okay. Just play up your injuries.” He waggled his eyebrows at me, causing a smile to escape my lips. He knew I’m used to playing down my injuries.
I rolled my eyes. “Do you think he’ll really feed me to sharks?”
Noah laughed. “Absolutely.”
“Not helping.”
“Bren. It’s really okay. I’m going to tell him it was me.” He pulled my face to his when he said this.
“No. No way.” I shook my head out of his grasp.
“Think about it. You live with him. I don’t.”
“No.”
“Yes. He can’t ban me from the ocean. Or from using my own surfboard.” He looked at me, eyes pleading to make his point. “But he can tell your dad and you know what will happen then.”
“No. Noah, he can tell your dad, too.”
“He won’t, though. He’s afraid of my dad.” We both laughed at this. Noah’s dad was super intense--everyone was a little afraid of him.
“But he can tell your mom.”
“True. But he’s in love with her, and she’s a softie.” Noah had an answer for everything. I just shook my head and let him continue. “Plus, I’ll tell my mom the truth. You know she’s always trying to teach me how to be a gentleman. If I tell her, she’ll probably increase my allowance.”