The burning cage of a car looked like Erin’s, but no one likes to think that way. Especially when you surmised that the Devil would’ve built a sustainable ice luge in Hell before it were possible for someone to survive all the lapping flames.
But someone had. Marcus. Though, with second-degree burns over ten percent of his body. Later, Wes would find out that Erin had been trying to drop Marcus off at his house before going to meet him . They had been arguing about Wes, and Erin, unfocused, had made the right on the red light without realizing an SUV was coming. It was some kid texting, but who still had the right-of-way. He smashed into Erin’s car so hard it tore the engine from its compartment, severing the fuel lines.
There was no driver’s side left. Burned beyond recognition.
No Erin left. Died instantly.
Just what he had to mourn in her place.
The end of her.
The end of love existing without pain.
Chapter 3 Good Girls go to Heaven but Bad Girls go to Fun Places
“Wes! Wake up!” Ian, their trainer, yelled, and a rough shove sent him flailing backward to the ground off the Indo Board he was using to strengthen his balance. He wished Ian would stop screaming; if the constant and painful contact with the ground wasn’t making him more alert, no amount of loud noises would.
“You know if I get injured, I can’t surf, right?”
“Well, I might be doing you a favor then. Where is your head today?”
“Probably should ask where his head was last night. Hope it was worth it. You suck today.”
“You suck every day,” Wes countered. “You’ll suck all summer doing everything.”
They had a lot of work obligations coming up to keep their sponsors happy: publicity appearances, photo shoots and lots of surfing trips, but Wes was also thinking about the upcoming surfing contests. He was camouflaging his anxiety about not feeling prepared beneath very fallible bravado. He didn’t mind being called Deuce; he just didn’t want to be deuce. But the bad decision quotient of staying out late the night before still couldn’t trump spontaneous bathroom sex. It never would.
“Doubt it. And you’ve never beaten me at anything, Wesley. I was even out of the womb first,” Abel said, tilting the Indo Board to one side while maintaining his balance.
“Uh… how about you two go inside and get in the pool, where you can talk about your mom’s body parts to yourselves,” Ian said with a shake of his head. “Don’t try to be a hero, Abel, take it easy. I’m still on the fence about you even being here.” He was a hard-ass, but Wes trusted his experience because he had his eye on Bali, and he needed to win the wildcard position in Tahiti to get there. Ian was a former free diver and surfer turned high school swim coach, and Wes had been working with him on his endurance for paddling out to far off barrels and controlling how long he could hold his breath under water in preparation for the treacherous waves off the coast of Tahiti and Bali, where they could easily swell up to ten feet.
Wes carried his Indo Board inside the rec center to the bleachers and pulled his cellphone from his bag. Calls from Dylan, Charlotte, and some other numbers he didn’t recognize, but none from Lana. She hadn’t called him at all. Not when she got home, not this morning, not even a text, and Wes was surprised by how disappointed he felt. And while he could admit to himself that it wasn’t just related to his ego, it was still pretty related to his ego. Women always called the day after. Even Madison and Natalie had called.
“Dude, the sooner we get in, the sooner we can get out of here,” Abel yelled in an impatient tone, and it was followed by the sound of splashing. “Remember, Char is stuck with
But someone had. Marcus. Though, with second-degree burns over ten percent of his body. Later, Wes would find out that Erin had been trying to drop Marcus off at his house before going to meet him . They had been arguing about Wes, and Erin, unfocused, had made the right on the red light without realizing an SUV was coming. It was some kid texting, but who still had the right-of-way. He smashed into Erin’s car so hard it tore the engine from its compartment, severing the fuel lines.
There was no driver’s side left. Burned beyond recognition.
No Erin left. Died instantly.
Just what he had to mourn in her place.
The end of her.
The end of love existing without pain.
Chapter 3 Good Girls go to Heaven but Bad Girls go to Fun Places
“Wes! Wake up!” Ian, their trainer, yelled, and a rough shove sent him flailing backward to the ground off the Indo Board he was using to strengthen his balance. He wished Ian would stop screaming; if the constant and painful contact with the ground wasn’t making him more alert, no amount of loud noises would.
“You know if I get injured, I can’t surf, right?”
“Well, I might be doing you a favor then. Where is your head today?”
“Probably should ask where his head was last night. Hope it was worth it. You suck today.”
“You suck every day,” Wes countered. “You’ll suck all summer doing everything.”
They had a lot of work obligations coming up to keep their sponsors happy: publicity appearances, photo shoots and lots of surfing trips, but Wes was also thinking about the upcoming surfing contests. He was camouflaging his anxiety about not feeling prepared beneath very fallible bravado. He didn’t mind being called Deuce; he just didn’t want to be deuce. But the bad decision quotient of staying out late the night before still couldn’t trump spontaneous bathroom sex. It never would.
“Doubt it. And you’ve never beaten me at anything, Wesley. I was even out of the womb first,” Abel said, tilting the Indo Board to one side while maintaining his balance.
“Uh… how about you two go inside and get in the pool, where you can talk about your mom’s body parts to yourselves,” Ian said with a shake of his head. “Don’t try to be a hero, Abel, take it easy. I’m still on the fence about you even being here.” He was a hard-ass, but Wes trusted his experience because he had his eye on Bali, and he needed to win the wildcard position in Tahiti to get there. Ian was a former free diver and surfer turned high school swim coach, and Wes had been working with him on his endurance for paddling out to far off barrels and controlling how long he could hold his breath under water in preparation for the treacherous waves off the coast of Tahiti and Bali, where they could easily swell up to ten feet.
Wes carried his Indo Board inside the rec center to the bleachers and pulled his cellphone from his bag. Calls from Dylan, Charlotte, and some other numbers he didn’t recognize, but none from Lana. She hadn’t called him at all. Not when she got home, not this morning, not even a text, and Wes was surprised by how disappointed he felt. And while he could admit to himself that it wasn’t just related to his ego, it was still pretty related to his ego. Women always called the day after. Even Madison and Natalie had called.
“Dude, the sooner we get in, the sooner we can get out of here,” Abel yelled in an impatient tone, and it was followed by the sound of splashing. “Remember, Char is stuck with
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