On The Rocks

Leaning against the pool table with one hip, I cross my arms across my chest and give her a lazy smile. “Don’t act affronted, Gabs. You enjoyed that just as much as I did.”


“Oooohhh,” she screeches again, and I wince at the sound. “You’re an asshole. If you touch me again, I swear I’ll… I’ll…”

“What?” I taunt her. “Kiss the fuck out of me again? You wanted it… you enjoyed it. Accept it.”

“I did not,” she insists, stomping her foot. “You caught me off guard.”

Laughing at her silliness, I take a step forward, even as she takes a step back to keep distance between us. “You may not know what’s going on here, but I do. Brody enlightened me the other day.”

That gets her attention because she can’t help but ask, “What do you mean?”

I decide I’m done playing for the day. I can see she’s going to need time to process this, and I’m fully expecting to deal with a she-devil tomorrow. So I just turn around and head back out to the front of the bar, telling her over my shoulder. “Ask Brody. He’ll fill you in.”

I hear her curse behind me, dropping a few F-bombs in the process. I just laugh, and I know she can hear me because a few more choice words follow me out the door.





I don’t see Gabby the rest of the day. Shortly after our exchange, she slammed out of the bar and I heard her truck spin out of the parking lot. I asked her foreman later in the morning where she was and he said she was working at her shop, building the custom bar that would go on the outdoor deck.

There’s a small part of me that wonders if maybe I went too far, but then I remember her reaction to my kiss. She was fully in. Her tongue battled with mine, she moaned hot into my mouth, and her hips pressed in against me. She may be a master at denying her feelings, but her body has a mind of its own, and it was speaking the utter truth to me.

Something’s holding her back though. Clearly, my apology didn’t work the charms I thought it would, and I could do one of two things. I could sit her down and have a talk with her, find out what has her panties in a twist again, or I could just keep wearing her down. The thought of wearing her down seems to be the logical choice, because talking to Gabby has done nothing more than resemble the biggest of wipeouts I had while surfing the Pipeline in Oahu. Having my body dragged over sharp coral reef seems less painful than having an actual conversation with her at this point.

While I ponder my Gabby dilemma, my phone starts ringing and a huge grin pops onto my face as I see who’s calling.

My best surfing buddy, John Hammer.

I answer with a, “What’s up, Shredder? Still learning how to boogie board?” This, of course, is only funny to someone in the surfing world. John is a legend on the Tour and has been my mentor for many years. He’s five years older than I am, and although he’s reaching his prime, he’s still killing it on the pro circuit.

“Hey, my man… long time, no talk to. How’s life treating you?”

“It’s good,” I tell him, even though a sudden pang of regret courses through me over retiring. All of my friends told me I was crazy. They told me the number-one rank was mine the next year, that I was committing surfing suicide by walking away.

Only John understood what drove me, and he supported my decision. We were sitting in a bar in Huntington Beach, drinking ice-cold microbrews and chowing on some chips and salsa. When I told him my plans, he just nodded and said, “I understand, dude. Family is what’s important. You do some crazy shit for love.”

His words were comforting and slicing at the same time. There wasn’t anything I couldn’t talk to John about, and he always had my back. I knew he’d understand my need to return home, and I knew he’d never try to talk me out of it or make me feel bad.