On The Rocks

Watching him now, the way he laughs, the way he touches me… the way he talks about me. I’m sunk in deep and there’s no preventing it, and there’s certainly no trying to claw my way out. There’s only one thing left to do… and that is give over to the euphoric feeling that courses through my body when I finally admit to myself that I love Hunter Markham.

We’re all having a great time at Last Call. I’m sitting at a large, round table with Hunter to my left. To my right is John, looking tanned and windblown, his fist curled around a Budweiser. Sasha sits beside him, intent on talking to Wyatt, who is on her other side. She’s wasted no time in latching on to him since she arrived, and I’m completely fine with sacrificing Wyatt to the greater good of the “stay the hell away from Hunter” game plan. Part of me even suspects Wyatt is intentionally keeping Sasha occupied, so her focus stays away from Hunter.

Finally, sitting between Hunter and Wyatt is his agent, Keith Carr. He’s staying the night, having checked into the Sand Piper Inn over in Kitty Hawk. He’s been busy all night, regaling me with tales about Hunter’s career, and I’ve been enjoying learning more about him. Hunter’s not the type that will talk about this stuff unless I push and prod him. He doesn’t toot his own horn very well.

So, the reason it became self-evident just now… as we sit in this group surrounded by Hunter’s closest friends and advisors—as well as one ex-girlfriend—you know, the people that know him best, you would think this would be a Hunter-palooza—a veritable party to pay homage to the greatness of the number two surfer in the world. But on the contrary, even though Keith tries very hard to center the talk around Hunter and how important his career is, Hunter matches him beat for beat in talking about me… in trying to put me to the forefront of the attention.

At first, it was embarrassing, the way Hunter repetitively bragged about my accomplishments and me. I know he just wants his friends to get to know me better, to validate his choice to be with me. By my third beer, and the fact that Hunter had moved his chair close to me so he could drape his arm over my shoulder, I’m feeling more relaxed and willing to let him extol my virtues.

“Hey Sasha… remember that time that Corey Granz cut Hunter off in the third heat of the Bali Pro? You went apeshit on his ass,” Keith says while laughing and taking a sip of his fifth Jack and Coke. His voice was getting a little louder, a little more slurred, but we were all here to have a good time.

Sasha laughs, her eyes going warm with the memory, and it makes my stomach clench. It also sort of pisses me off that Keith has now gone down Sasha and Hunter’s memory lane, a place I have no wish to journey.

“Yeah,” Sasha says, leaning forward against the table to look at Hunter. “When he got out of the water, I went a little crazy on him.”

“A little crazy?” Keith says with a bark of laughter. “You ran up and pushed him so hard that he landed flat on his ass. I thought I would die from the look on his face.”

Hunter’s hand softly caresses my shoulder, and he says, “It wasn’t a biggie. I whipped his ass in that heat, and Sasha acted like a brat.”

Okay, this was getting a little awkward, and I sneak a quick glance at Sasha. Her eyes narrow at Hunter but then she shakes it off, even giving me a friendly smile. “Yeah… in hindsight, I guess that was pretty stupid. Hunter can handle himself.”

“Exactly,” Hunter says in agreement, even as his attention is taken away when someone taps him on the shoulder. It’s one of his bartenders… Susie I think, and she leans down.

“The cash register at the front is broken again and won’t open. I tried resetting it, but nothing. Brody’s too busy at the back bar to look at it.”

“I’m on it,” Hunter says as he stands from the table. He doesn’t leave though, until he bends down and places a kiss on top of my head, which again, is another reason why my heart has flopped over and submitted to love. Because he’s always thinking about me.