2
1077 Words
Chapter 2
The Boy Who Chased Waves
Leah woke to the sound of seagulls.
For a brief, blissful moment, she didn't remember where she was.
The soft mattress beneath her wasn't the one in her bedroom back home. There were no silk curtains. No marble floors. No staff waiting outside her door with breakfast.
Instead, faded floral wallpaper greeted her when she opened her eyes.
The room was small. Cozy.
Sunlight streamed through lace curtains, painting golden patterns across the wooden floorboards.
A smile tugged at her lips.
She was still here.
She hadn't dreamed it.
Mrs. Eleanor Dawson, the elderly owner of the seaside bed-and-breakfast, had taken one look at Leah's exhausted face the night before and offered her the last available room.
"You can pay me when you find your feet, dear," she'd said with a grandmotherly smile.
No contracts.
No conditions.
Just kindness.
Leah couldn't remember the last time someone had offered her kindness without expecting something in return.
After washing up and changing into a pair of denim shorts, a loose white shirt, and worn sneakers, she tied her hair into a messy ponytail before heading downstairs.
The scent of freshly baked bread drifted through the house.
Mrs. Dawson looked up from the kitchen.
"Morning, sleepyhead."
"Morning."
"You look like someone who desperately needs pancakes."
Leah laughed softly.
"I won't argue with that."
"Good girl. Sit."
Within minutes, a plate stacked with fluffy pancakes, fresh strawberries, and maple syrup appeared before her.
Leah stared.
"You didn't have to do all this."
Mrs. Dawson waved a dismissive hand.
"I've lived long enough to know two things. Never trust a skinny cat..."
She pointed her spatula toward Leah.
"...and never let a young woman start her day hungry."
Leah smiled so widely her cheeks hurt.
"Thank you."
As she ate, Mrs. Dawson leaned against the counter.
"So..."
Leah looked up.
"...what brings you to little old Seabrook?"
The smile faded slightly.
"I needed a fresh start."
Mrs. Dawson studied her for a moment.
Then simply nodded.
"Sometimes that's reason enough."
No questions.
No pressure.
Leah appreciated that.
After breakfast, she wandered toward the beach again.
The salty breeze tangled her hair as waves rolled lazily onto the shore.
Children ran barefoot through the sand.
A couple argued playfully over building a crooked sandcastle.
Everything felt... slower.
Lighter.
Like the world had remembered how to breathe.
"You came back."
Leah turned.
The surfer from yesterday stood a few feet away, balancing a surfboard beneath one arm.
Up close, he looked older than she'd first thought.
Late twenties, maybe.
Sun-bronzed skin.
Hazel eyes that seemed permanently amused.
A dimple appeared in his left cheek when he smiled.
"I did."
"I was beginning to think you didn't like beaches."
She raised an eyebrow.
"You saw me standing here for almost an hour yesterday."
"I noticed."
"And you assumed I didn't like beaches?"
He shrugged dramatically.
"I'm an optimist."
She laughed.
He grinned as though he'd accomplished something important.
"I'm Marco."
She blinked.
Just Marco.
No last name.
"I'm Leah."
"It's nice to officially meet you, Leah."
A comfortable silence settled between them as they watched the waves.
Marco finally nodded toward the ocean.
"Ever surfed?"
"No."
"Ever wanted to?"
"No."
He looked genuinely disappointed.
"That was fast."
"I like keeping my expectations realistic."
He laughed.
"So your plan is to stand on the shore forever?"
"My plan is not to drown."
"Details."
She folded her arms.
"I don't think drowning counts as a detail."
He rested the surfboard against the sand.
"I've been teaching kids since I was nineteen."
"So?"
"So..."
He spread his arms.
"...I've only lost three students."
Leah's eyes widened.
"You what?"
His serious expression lasted exactly two seconds before he burst into laughter.
"I'm kidding."
She stared at him.
"You are impossible."
"I've been called worse."
"I believe it."
He smiled.
"There she is."
"There who is?"
"The girl who smiles."
Her expression softened.
"I smile."
"You do now."
She looked away.
He wasn't wrong.
She hadn't smiled this much in months.
Maybe years.
Marco picked up his surfboard again.
"Come on."
"Where?"
"Surfing."
"I literally just said no."
"And I literally ignored you."
She shook her head.
"I don't even know you."
"Excellent point."
He offered his hand.
"So let's fix that."
She looked at it.
Then at him.
His smile wasn't charming in the practiced way wealthy men often smiled.
It was... real.
Warm.
The kind that reached his eyes.
Against every instinct telling her not to trust strangers...
She took his hand.
His grip was firm, steady.
He helped her down the gentle slope toward the shoreline.
The water was colder than she expected.
She gasped.
Marco chuckled.
"Still think standing on the beach is more fun?"
"Absolutely."
"You haven't even started."
"I don't need to."
An hour later, she'd fallen off the board six times.
Twice she'd accidentally splashed Marco.
Once she'd swallowed enough seawater to question every life choice that had led her there.
By the seventh attempt, she managed to stand for exactly three glorious seconds before tumbling into the waves.
When she resurfaced, sputtering and laughing, Marco was already applauding dramatically.
"Ladies and gentlemen..."
He bowed.
"...our newest surfing champion."
"Oh, be quiet."
"I would."
He smiled.
"But you're making this too entertaining."
She splashed water at him.
He splashed her back.
Soon they were laughing like children.
For the first time in what felt like forever...
Leah forgot she was running.
Forgot the wedding.
Forgot Luca Moretti.
Forgot everything except the endless blue ocean stretching before her.
As the sun climbed higher, Marco walked her back toward the shore.
"You know..."
He rubbed the back of his neck.
"...there's a seafood festival tomorrow night."
She looked at him.
"They have terrible live music."
"That doesn't sound convincing."
"The food's amazing."
"Better."
"And..."
He hesitated.
"...I was wondering if you'd like to go with me."
Leah felt something flutter unexpectedly in her chest.
She barely knew him.
She probably shouldn't.
But when she looked into those warm hazel eyes...
For the first time since she'd run away...
Tomorrow didn't feel frightening.
It felt possible.
She smiled.
"I'd like that."
Neither of them noticed the man standing on the balcony of a nearby hotel, lowering a pair of binoculars.
He pulled out his phone.
"Sir."
A pause.
"She's getting close to someone."
Another pause.
"No..."
His gaze remained fixed on Marco.
"We're finding out who he is now."
- Writer
