Page 49 of The Surfer

I wish she can see this for what it is.

No deal’s coming between me and the most perfect kiss I’ve ever experienced.

Ripley shakes her head and slowly removes my hand from her chin. I can sense she’s already growing distant from me.

Distant from me just like everyone else has done since the accident. I’ve seen that look before, that look of pity that people love to give me when they see me on the street or when they see my scars. The great failure, Cove Finn. It’s the same look that makes me want to crawl under my bedsheets and die, I’ve just never expected to see it coming from my American girl.

“I don’t want to talk about it anymore,” Ripley says. “I don’t want to surf anymore today. I think the lesson’s over, let’s just go home.”

And that’s it, she’s walking away from me back towards the bush to the car with the surfboard under her arm.

No. Wait.

No girl has ever rejected my romantic advances since my heartless supermodel girlfriend dumped me during surgery.

But this is different.

This American girl is doing something to me. By rejecting me she’s harming me in ways no other person can. She doesn’t know it, but she has my whole heart in her hands and now she’s squeezing it. Leaving it out to dry. And I’m in pain.

Why did I let her in?

Why did I let her see the real me?

I should’ve known she’ll hurt me. I should’ve known she’ll ruin me.

I chase after her, but she doesn’t talk. We don’t speak even on the car journey home.

It’s all gone horribly wrong.

Ripley is quiet and distant from me.

I have to fix this. For my sake.