My foot taps anxiously against the wooden floors of Malia's Cafe, my pen bouncing against the order pad in my hand as the last customer's of my shift decide on their meals for the evening from the comfort of their table booth. One lady in particular- blonde, middle-aged, and enough hairspray on her head to ignite a whole town ablaze- takes her time scanning the menu. I watch impatiently as her red manicured fingers slowly trickle down the laminated pages, reading the ingredients of each item precisely. I bring my arm up, glancing down at the time displayed on my wristwatch.

4:22 PM.

I'm supposed to be meeting Brodie for his surfing lesson at 5:00, and with the island traffic and the distance I'm going to have to be traveling, I'm left with about 10 minutes to get my ass moving out of this restaurant if I want to make it on time. I lean over the table, pointing a finger at each of the two ladies' menus. "The Loco Moco is a customer favorite if you're having trouble deciding," I offer to them, insisting that they hurry up and choose something in the most polite way possible.

My eyes cut up to Alana, who's rolling silverware at the hosts' stand in the front. She glances my way, and I throw her a 'these customers are taking too damn long to decide on their order' look, making her laugh at my restlessness. The blonde's voice brings my attention back to the matter-at-hand, squinting as she struggles to locate the dish. "I can't seem to find it on here. What's in it?"

Alana giggles to herself from across the tables. She knows how to read my face better than anyone, and she's taking quite the amusement in my internalized irritation. I feel myself let out a sigh, that I had apparently been holding in, before answering the customer, "It's a white rice dish, topped with hamburger, fried egg, and brown gravy."

The other woman-brunette, same age, and wearing glasses- speaks up, vocalizing her distaste, "Rice, egg, hamburger, and gravy?" Her face contorts in disgust, and I feel myself get defensive over my mother's carefully picked, traditional Hawaiin cuisine.

"It's a Hawaiin classic, ma'am," the formal address comes out harsher than I attend it to, an attitude obvious in my tone. Alana clears her throat from the distance, reminding me to cool it and bring a smile back to my face. "I can give you two some more time to browse the menu if you need?"

But if you could wrap it up and decide now, that'd be great too. I have a lesson to teach.

"That would be wonderful," The blonde voices with an insincere smile.

"Wonderful," I repeat, dragging the word out sarcastically. My heels swivel on the floor, my eyes rolling as soon as I'm turned away from the table. An exasperated breath leaves my mouth as I stomp back to the kitchen, shoving my pen and pad into the apron tied around my waist. "Ugh!"

"Well, someone's rather antsy today," Alana teases from behind me, entering the kitchen.

I look back down at my watch, the time now reading 4:26 PM. "They're taking forever out there! I have to be at Waimea Bay by5:00 and there's no way I'm going to make it on time now." I pace the floor, my limbs giving me a dose of restless leg syndrome.

"Just give 'em to me," my friend offers.

"Alana, I can't do that," I sigh, feeling guilty. "It's fine. I'll just text him and tell him I'll be a few minutes late."

"Now Chicka, how do you think this Roger man is going to feel with his son's surfing instructor not showing up on time to only the second lesson? Need I remind you, one that's already been paid for." Alana's dark curls bounce, as she nods me to the back door, "I'll take care of your table. You go."

"Alana, there's something I should tell you," I admit, remembering I hadn't had a chance to tell her about Brodie and our arrangement, "the lessons I'm giving is actually for-"

A deep, burly voice sounds from behind me, forcing me to cut the words off. "If it isn't my little Beavis and my little Butt-head."

Alana immediately approaches my father, wrapping her arms around him in a warm hug, as he rubs a playful knuckle against the top of her head. "Mr. Campbell!" The last name sounds weird as my ears register it. It seems the only quality I seemed to inherit from my Dad was his stubbornness. Mom gave me her genes and last name, wanting to keep the Hawaiin surname running along the family line. "Long time, no see. Work keeping you from tending to your non-biological father duties?"

My Dad laughs at the joke, understanding Alana to be practically one of his own due to the conditions of our long-lasting, childhood friendship. "Missed you too, Beavis." He releases her from his hold, cutting his eyes over to me and throwing over a warm smile.

"Hey Daddy," I say, leaning my head up against his chest as he squeezes me into him. Even at 50-years-old, my father is built like a tank, and his strong embrace has me wriggling in his arms. "You're off early today?" My eyes cut over to him, taking in his clean-shaven face and combed over, faded, and dark hair.

His hazel irises lock onto mine, all his teeth showing as he grins and reaches into his bag. "Came to surprise your Momma." His hands pull out a bundle of flowers; white, pink, and red roses.

"Aww," I swoon, touching the velvety petals with my fingertips. "That's so sweet of you. She'll love them." Mom was an absolute sucker for romantic gestures and my Dad was the best at giving them. This was sure to brighten her day, especially after the stress of having to manage the restaurant.

"Mr. Campbell, you sure are working on those brownie points, huh," Alana teases.

"Happy wife, happy life. Lela," he says, pulling the subject away from himself, "Did I hear wrong or have you finally gotten your first surfing apprentice under your belt?"

Oh shit. If this conversation goes in the wrong direction, and Dad finds out that these lessons are for a grown-ass Marine, he'll have my head. I might as well go ahead and lock myself in the confines of my bedroom for the next ten years of my life. I panic as Alana begins to speak up for me, afraid that she might spark an entirely new set of questions from my Dad. "Your daughter here," she declares, gripping onto the back of my shoulders and shaking me proudly, "already has a month of lessons booked. Paid in full and everything."

This information has my Dad's head cocking in curiosity, and he hastily asks, "Is that so?"

I watch Alana's lips start to move again, but before she gets a chance to utter another word I yank my apron away from my waist, tossing it right into right onto her head. "Yep. Actually, now that you guys are mentioning it," I stutter, looking down to my watch: 4:32 PM, "I've gotta go! Would hate to be late." I pull the ponytail of my hair loose, as my feet start to jog towards my escape.

"Lelani," my Dad's voice halts me. "Forgetting something?"

And now I can feel the palms of my hands beginning to break out in a nervous sweat, my cheeks becoming warm. "Huh?"

He reaches towards the row of hooks hanging on the wall beside him, pulling my purse and ring of keys from one of the pegs. "Right," I chuckle nervously, hurrying back and taking them from his hands.

"You forgetting something else?"

"No?" I flick my guilty eyes away from him, not wanting to give myself away.

"It's Friday. You're supposed to be picking up your brother from camp this evening."

"Shit," I mutter under my breath, remembering my carpool duties. "I'm so sorry, Dad. I- I can pick him up on the way." I can't believe I almost forgot about Aiden. Mom is right; I really need to be more responsible when it comes to managing my schedule.

Dad sighs, throwing me a sympathetic look, "It's fine. I'm off early, so I can go pick him up once I leave here." He commands my attention with his next statement, "But Lelani, please- just try and be more cautious of your obligations from now on, okay?"

"Yes sir," I whisper back. I turn on my feet, heading back out towards my car and calling out to Alana one last time, "I owe you, Beavis."

"You're damn right you do, Butthead!" Alana always knew exactly what to say to bring a smile back to my face.

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"Come on, Brodie," I shout back behind me, my voice carrying over the passing waves. My arms dig deep into the bright blue water at the sides of my surfboard, propelling myself farther into the ocean using the strength of my back, shoulder, and bicep muscles. As soon as I pass over the next oncoming wave, I stop my movements and sit upright on top of my board. My hips twist hard, maneuvering my position in the water and putting my eyes in view of Brodie. Almost 20 feet behind me, I can barely make out the daisies printed across his surfboard. "You're paddling that water like a freaking chihuahua! Dig your arms deeper!"

Not taking note of my instruction, he continues with his horrible technique, taking forever to catch up with me. Brodie is heaving when his surfboard finally lines up beside mine. His biceps are on full display as he shoves himself away from its deck. The muscles in his torso and thighs are shaky as he clutches onto the edges of the board with the back of his knees. He takes a moment to catch his breath while he perches on top of the still water. "You're a fucking tyrant," he accuses, gasping for air.

I snort, laughing, and reach over to the nose of his board, yanking it closer to mine. "Lay down," I order as I pat the board.

He rests his body back up against it, and my eyes carefully skim over its position on the deck, trying not to focus too much on the way his skin glistens under the thin layer of water covering it.

"First of all," I direct, immediately finding one of the root causes of his shitty paddling, "Close your legs. Your feet keep separating and falling off the board. They need to be centered with the rest of your body." I draw a finger down the middle of Brodie's back, reminding him of where the middle is. Goosebumps rise against his tanned skin and I do my best to ignore them as my hands grip onto each of his legs and pull them together on the top of the board.

Coffee-colored irises focus in on me, and my next instruction gets caught in my throat as I try to calm down my heart rate. "And you're going to have a hard time gaining any distance if you keep doing those fairy taps of your's."

Brodie laughs, immediately defending himself, "I'm not doing fairy taps!"

"Yes, you are," I argue back, playfully kicking the tail of his surfboard and causing him to hold on tight just to keep himself from falling off. "That water should be hitting your elbows, Maverick. And your strokes need to be much bigger."

"Bigger?"

"Yes, Brodie... Bigger."

"How big?" He asks, sending a wink my way.

I toss a handful of water up into his face, ignoring his immature antics, and starting my paddle back to the shore. "Get your head out of the gutter, Brodie! Sun is almost set, meaning this lesson is almost over. I wanna see those back and arm muscles put in some work." The sun was starting to tuck itself away, taking the light of the day with it and painting the horizon in a beautiful, deep shade of orange.

Heeding my directions and improving his stance, Brodie reaches me impressively fast. We both slow our strokes, our arms paddling in almost perfect synchronization as we glide in front of the waves pushing us from behind. Brodie speaks up beside me, "Is this what you want to do?"

"I'm not sure I know what you mean?"

"I mean career-wise. Surfing. You told me on the first day of lessons that you were devoting your time to teaching your passion to others. So I assume that's what you're wanting to pursue in terms of a job, right?"

I feel the crest of a wave behind us, but I keep my strokes shallow, feeling too intrigued with the conversation to let it carry me away from Brodie. "It wouldn't be the worst choice, but what I really want to do is to surf professionally. I mean, could you imagine? Getting paid and sponsored to ride waves all day. That's the ultimate dream." Hearing the words roll off my tongue makes me sad, especially knowing that pursuing such a competitive and unstable career would disappoint my parents. "My mom is making me register for classes at the community college this fall though, so I can just go ahead and forget that..." My words trail off, and my chest aches with the idea of being forced into an education that I don't truly want.

"College is for losers anyways," Brodie jokes in an attempt to raise my low spirits.

It works, and I'm back to smiling again as I tease him on the matter, "Oh yeah? Is that why you joined the military?"

"Precisely," Brodie chimes, just as we reach the knee-deep water. We slide off of our boards, treading our feet through the foamy shore as he continues talking, "Well, that and an escape."

Escape.

The word replays in my head, striking a chord in me and instantly making me think that Brodie's a lot more than some horny, good-for-nothing Marine, after all. We reach the sand, surfboards tucked under our arms as we start our hike up the beach towards our cars. "And may I ask what exactly you're running away from, Brodie?"

The inquiry halts him dead in his tracks, causing me to do the same. Brodie takes a step closer to me, our body's only inches away from one another. It's as if the air around us freezes, putting an end to every movement and sound- even those of the waves- until nothing but the hum of our slow and heavy breaths fill our ears. His head tilts down to me, his eyes now holding a serious expression. I watch his Adam's apple bob against his throat, his voice low and soft as he hushes out carefully, "Everything."

And now my head is only craving to know more about Brodie, despite all my efforts to convince myself that I don't care. Instinctively I find myself wanting to say, "I'm running away from things, too," but the words don't come out and instead stay trapped inside.

Headlights illuminate the small space in the middle of Brodie and me, coming from the parking lot elevated ahead, and interrupting whatever the hell was just happening between the two of us. I dart my head over, catching a glimpse of the silver SUV pulling into one of the car spaces and sending my stomach twisting in knots as I realize who's behind the wheel without even seeing him.

"Of fuck!" My hand's shove Brodie over into a thick bed of beach grass beside us. I force him down onto his knees, hoping that the weeds and setting sun will be enough to conceal him.

"Lani! What the hell?!"

"Shh!" I hiss out, my voice reprimanding him at a loud whisper, "Lay down and don't move."

"Lelani, what's going on-"

"Brodie now!"

He quickly dives into the sand, the hiding spot doing a good enough job as my Dad makes his way down to me. "Lela," my Dad calls out, holding his hand over his eyes to try and spot me better.

My feet sprint towards him, wanting to keep as much distance between him and Brodie as possible. "Dad? What are you doing here?"

"We just thought we'd check on you," he says motioning his thumb back to the Lexus where my Mom and Aiden wave from its open windows. "We were headed back home, and this stop was on the way and we figured we'd see how your lessons were going."

My Dad's eyes scan the area, sending my pulse beating at an all-time high. "They went great," I hurry out, "I was actually just packing up for the night."

"Well, good thing. I can help you, then."

He starts to go towards my surfboard, but my hands stop him, cutting him off in his tracks as I stutter out, "T-that's okay. I can just meet you guys back at the house." Matt Campbell immediately knows something's up, sending a questionable glare my way. "It- it's just I know it's close to Aiden's bedtime and I wouldn't want to have to push that back just because you guys are waiting on me," and now I create an even greater lie, "I was planning on staying at Alana's tonight, anyways."

"And your mother knows about this?" He asks, motioning back to the car again.

"I was hoping you could tell her for me," my voice squeaks out as I force an exaggerated smile to my face. Hopefully, my charm is enough to convince him.

Dad starts his walk back up to the car, filling me with immediate relief. "You text us when you make it to her house, Lela. Understood?"

"You got it."

Once my father is out of view and the lights to the SUV begin pulling away, I let out the breath I had been holding and make my way to rescue Brodie from his uncomfortable position in the weeds.

"I'm sorry," I begin, signaling Brodie that the coast is finally clear. "That was my Dad. God, if he would have seen you..."

A wicked grin spreads from one side of his face to the other, as he picks himself up off the sand. "I knew from the moment I met you, you were the type to misbehave."

Heat instantly gathers to my face, embarrassment warming every inch of my body. I stomp towards his direction, keeping my expression firm as I plant myself in front of him.

"Would you shut your mouth? You don't understand, this isn't a game, Brodie. If my dad finds out I'm spending my time giving lessons to some damn Marine, I can go ahead and kiss surfing goodbye."

Fingers trail against my jaw, immediately cooling my hot temper as they brush aside a piece of wet hair stuck against my skin.

"Don't worry, Lani," Brodie's voice is chilling as his mouth draws closer to my ear, whispering, "I'm good at keeping secrets."

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😂

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