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“You mean—”
I nod. “I think he thinks he’s human.”
4 Surf Your Heart Out (#ulink_7e6f586c-161d-5365-96f9-d41125e5a91a)
The warm sun on the patio is definitely something I’ve missed. Jenna waves from the middle of the pool and I smile back, lifting a hand and watching the greenish-gold lights flicker down my forearm in response to the sun’s rays. There’s nothing quite comparable to sunlight, not even in the warm, jeweled depths of Waterfell. And while I miss my home, I’ve missed being here, too. And I missed my best friend. I’ll admit freely that Jenna is the only person keeping me from falling to bits.
What I discovered about Lo has kept me wide-awake every night. After all, how do you make sure that a hybrid Aquarathi human doesn’t go off the deep end if and when he starts exhibiting alien qualities? Not even the High Council could have anticipated this. It’s uncharted territory for us—not just because Lo is a hybrid, but because he’s a hybrid who thinks he’s a human—so all in all, the situation has potentially catastrophic consequences, simply because he puts our entire species at a greater risk of exposure.
For the moment, we agreed that Echlios would keep an eye on him at home, and I’d do the same at school, which means official reenrollment at Dover. That wasn’t part of the original plan. Readjusting will be tricky. I went from girl to alien queen in the span of four short months, and now I have to revert to who I was before. On top of that, going back to high school means seeing the boyfriend who isn’t really my boyfriend anymore on an excruciating daily basis. It’s going to be unbearable.
I sigh and say as much to Jenna. She swims to the side of the pool and props her chin on her forearms on the edge. She stares at me with a thoughtful expression, studying the flickering lights underneath my skin.
“Can’t you just mind-meld him into remembering you? You know, with that shimmer-glimmer thing you do?” she asks, nodding at my forearms.
“Not that easy,” I say. The lights on my arm die a swift death at the turn of the conversation. “I tried, and there was nothing there—nothing of me, anyway. It’s like any memory of us has been wiped out of his head completely.”
I gulp past the lump of misery in my throat. Apparently everything I learned during my previous human initiation cycle doesn’t apply to relationships. Turns out you can break someone’s heart...so much so that he eliminates everything about you just so he can cope.
Jenna hauls herself out of the pool and grabs a towel from the side table. “I did a little research on what you told me. Dissociative amnesia is pretty common after trauma, but the memories do come back most of the time. You have to believe that.”
“I don’t have a year, Jenna. I have months, and then I have to make a decision to go back, with or without him. With him would be so much better. Without him means things I don’t want to consider.”
“What things?” Jenna says, her eyes narrowing.
I meet them honestly, my heart in mine. “You know our laws, Jenna. We can’t take the risk that he’ll expose us.”
“Oh.”
She doesn’t say anything more but stares at the undulating surface of the pool, lost in thought. She loves Lo as a friend, but if the time comes and we decide to leave without him, she’ll have no say in what happens to him. She knows that as well as I do. After a while, she turns to me again.
“Won’t that...hurt you, too?”
“Yes.”
Her face drains of color. Jenna doesn’t know the intricate ins and outs of bonding, but I told her what Soren once told me. If Lo dies, a part of me will die, too. And I’ll never be able to bond with anyone again. Those are the rules of what we are—we bond for life.
“Well, you’re just going to have to make him fall in love with you again,” Jenna says with a forced, overbright smile.
“We’ve bonded, Jenna. There’s nothing beyond that.”
“For Aquarathi,” she points out. “Not humans. And Lo’s part human, right? Look, you said it yourself. He already loves you because you’re bonded. There’s a part of him that recognizes itself in you and probably always will. You just have to make him see that. As much as the human brain can incapacitate itself, so it can rebuild itself. It’s a two-way street.” She pauses, her expression intense. “And maybe if you can do that, then you can get him to remember everything else. Damaged neurons self-repair.”
“You know this how?”
“Told you. I did research,” she says, taking a peach from the fruit basket on the table and biting into it. As always, I’m amazed at Jenna’s base of knowledge. She’s more than smart—she’s practically a human encyclopedia. And what she doesn’t know, she makes it her business to learn. Like, obviously, rare neurological conditions. “According to some studies, once you get the cells refiring, the rest is inevitable. The human brain is an amazing thing. It can actually rewire itself.”
I snort and attempt a lame joke. “So you’re saying I have to hot-wire him?”
“Baby steps, Riss.” Jenna laughs. “Remember last year? I mean, you couldn’t even flirt without popping a blood vessel and freaking out. Every time Lo made a move, you, like, ran the other way like a frightened bunny.”
“Did not,” I retort, flushing.
“Total bunny.” Jenna grins, enjoying my discomfort. “Your scary sea-monster side was completely bunnified.”
“My scary sea-monster side is going to make an appearance if you don’t quit it,” I threaten, baring perfectly human white teeth in her direction.
“Oooh, I’m so scurred!”
“You should be,” I say, and remove the human eye film from my eyes, revealing the shimmery multicolored iris and pale gold sclera beneath.
“You think some gorgeous eyeballs are going to freak me out?” she says, sticking her tongue out and rolling her eyes. “Been there, done that.”
I shake my head at her comical expression and we both start laughing. Six months ago when Jenna found out the truth about me, she could barely look at any of us without her blood rushing around inside her in terror, and now she’s totally at ease with the whole alien-best-friend thing. Things could have turned out worse if she hadn’t been okay with it. Way worse...as in goodbye-best-friend worse.
“So, what does Speio say about all this? Coming back to Dover? Pretending to be human?” Jenna asks.
She and Speio weren’t exactly on the best of terms during the last year. He was averse to me revealing anything to Jenna, and even though she ended up saving our collective hides on more than one occasion, things between them never went back to the way they used to be. I do give him props, though, because before we left he apologized to Jenna.
“He’s fine with it, actually,” I tell her. “Volunteered to come this time around.”
“I thought he wanted to be back there.”
I snort out loud. “He did, and then he realized that females are the same, no matter the territory. They don’t come running just because a male decides he’s ready for a mate. Let’s just say that Speio had a rude awakening.”
Jenna’s eyes widen with that little bit of gossip. “So no bonding?”
“Nope.”
“Wow, payback’s a bitch,” Jenna says. “Although I still feel sorry for him. All we’re looking for is love at the end of the day. Aliens need love, too. Maybe that’s all he really wants.”
“And alien booty.”
“TMI!” Jenna screeches, covering her ears. “Oh no! Icky mental image! Thanks for that,” she says, and tosses her towel at me. I can’t help laughing at her grossed-out expression.
“Come on,” I say. “It’s not that bad. We coil around and—”
“Stop! My bleeding ears!”
We are laughing so hard by then that Jenna starts snorting through her nose, a snort that she futilely tries to stifle when Speio walks out of the living room toward us.
“What’s so funny?” he asks.
“Nothing,” she spurts through her teeth, clamping her lips together and turning a splotchy shade of red. “Girl stuff.”
Speio rolls his eyes skyward and shoots me a withering glance. I keep my thoughts carefully guarded and my face blank, knowing that he’d flip out if he knew we were making fun at his expense. He’s still a little sensitive about the whole not-bonding thing.
“Whatever,” he says. “So, are you guys going to the meet? Sawyer just texted me to see if you were on your way.”
“Crap,” Jenna squeals, jumping up to grab her phone out of her bag. “Yikes. He’s texted me, like, thirty-eight times.” She shrugs into a pair of cutoff jean shorts and glares at me. “Move your ass, queen of the sea! We have to go.”
I sink backward into the lounger. “Do I have to? I’m not sure I’m ready to mix and mingle.”
“It’ll be good for you,” Jenna says, her head disappearing into a neon-colored tank. “Plus, Lo’s going to be there.” She throws a meaningful look in my direction. “He asked you to come today, remember?”
I offer a noncommittal shrug. I don’t know why I’m so cagey about going. Maybe it’s because I don’t want anyone—particularly any of our old friends from school—seeing that Lo’s amnesia is so bad that he can’t remember his own girlfriend. I don’t want to feel their pity, or worse.
Jenna reads me easily. “Better to get it over with now than on Monday when you have nowhere to go but a four-walled classroom. It’ll be fine, Riss. I’ll be there, and Sawyer, and Speio,” she says with a glance at him.
“Are you going?” I ask Speio.
“Yes.”
“Oh.”
Speio reddens as if he’s hiding something. “You have to go. You’re signed up to surf,” he blurts out. “Sawyer did it!”
“What?” I splutter. “I haven’t surfed in months. I’m not up for a surf meet!”
“Maybe it’s what you need,” he says.
Jenna agrees with Speio, nodding emphatically. “Totally what you need. It was my idea, by the way, so don’t be mad at Sawyer or Speio.”
“What are you guys? Best friends now?” I say with a halfhearted glare. I’m not a fan of being tricked and pushed into things, but Jenna’s probably right. If I’m out surfing, I’m hardly going to be thinking about what people are saying about me. Or focusing on Lo. Or on Cara being all over Lo. Or vice versa. That last thought makes my stomach flip-flop, and not in a good way.
“Fine. Let’s go.”
I grab a shorty wet suit and tuck my surfboard next to Speio’s in the back of the Jeep before climbing in beside Jenna. It’s only a fifteen-minute ride from La Jolla to Pacific Beach Drive where Speio says the competition is being held.
She eyes me. “Seriously, I don’t know what you’re getting so worked up about. You command the sea. This is your space. Be one with it.”
“Calm down, Yoda.”
I stare out the window, preoccupied—or forcing myself to look preoccupied—to avoid further conversation. As we near the location, I’m surprised at the amount of traffic and cars parked along the side of the road. I can just see the tops of a few dozen multicolored tents along the edge of the beach.
“Which meet is this again?” I ask, my suspicion growing by the minute at the throngs of people walking toward the beach.
“RUSH,” Jenna says sheepishly.
“What?” I nearly choke. The RUSH Annual Surf Series is one of the biggest surf competitions in San Diego, and is sponsored by the coolest surf magazine on the planet. I ignore the sudden dip of my stomach. Not only will Lo be watching, but thousands of people will be there, including photographers. “How did we even get in for that? I didn’t qualify to compete.” I stare at her with a disbelieving frown.
“Slow your roll, princess,” Jenna says. “Sawyer hooked it up.”
“How?”
“Technically, it’s only an exhibition heat. He showed them some footage of you from last year and he called in a favor. No biggie.”
“You’re killing me. Really.”
Jenna grins, hopping out of the Jeep as soon as Speio comes to a spot in the narrowest parking spot possible. “What better way to start your senior year at Dover than with a splash? No pun intended.”
“This is a Pro-Am competition,” I say with overexaggerated emphasis. “As in pro. RUSH is more than a big deal. And the exhibition surfers at these events are professional surfers, not amateurs.”
“Seriously, Nerissa Marin, can you stop being such a wuss and suck it up for half a second? You’re a great surfer. Better than great, if you know what I mean,” Jenna says, grabbing my board and shoving it toward me. I shoot her a dry look. “Go have fun. And show off a bit. What could go wrong?”
The question is so loaded that I nearly start laughing hysterically. Besides enticing giant ocean predators like great white sharks, which are attracted to Aquarathi pheromones—mine in particular—what could possibly go wrong other than the worst possible thing? Like mangled, chewed-up people everywhere.
Speio pats my arm, sensing my panic. “It’s a new moon,” he says quietly. “Full moon’s already gone, so you should be fine. Just try to keep it together.” Okay, correction...maybe it’s not the worst thing, since our pheromones are at their peak during the full moon, but that doesn’t mean it’s not risky.
With a resigned sigh, I walk down to the crowded beach, where we meet up with Sawyer. He’s at one of the tents, pinning his number onto his rash guard. His smile is infectious as he comes in for a warm hug.
“Hey, Riss! Glad you got here.”
“Thanks for the heads-up,” I tell him, punching him half-playfully in the arm.
“Any surfing down in Cape Town?” Sawyer says, his teeth white in his darkly tanned face. A move to South Africa was the cover story for why we left months ago. “Heard there’s good swell there year-round.”
“Nope, didn’t surf at all,” I say truthfully, grabbing a piece of wax off one of the nearby tables. “I’m going to be rusty. Hope you don’t have too much riding on me not completely wiping out.”
“It’s only exhibition,” he says, and nods out at the ocean, where the waves are breaking in perfect sets. “Epic out there. I had an early-morning heat and it wasn’t near as clean as those. High tide. Offshore winds. Epic combo.”
“If you say so.”
I survey the teeming beach—only exhibition...with a gazillion people watching my every move. Waving goodbye to Sawyer, I head over to where Speio’s standing and crouch down next to him on the sand, slowly rubbing wax onto the deck of my board with rhythmic, consistent strokes. I breathe in and slowly exhale with each circle, feeling my body calm and center.
“Hey,” a voice says over my shoulder, making my skin leap like it’s alive. Only one person has that effect on me. I look up, shading my eyes from the sun.
“Hi, Lo.”
“You came,” he says, crouching down beside me. “You’re surfing?”
“Sawyer’s idea,” I say, trying not to let his proximity or the citrusy-vanilla smell of him affect me. It’s a losing battle. Here, with the ocean so close, everything is amplified. For me, anyway. I haul a deep breath into my lungs, furiously scrubbing the square of wax onto the board and remembering Speio’s words about keeping it together. Fat chance with Lo looking on every second.
“So, you any good?” Lo asks, and then answers his own question. “Well, you must be if you’re surfing RUSH. Heard it’s the epic of the epics.”
“Yeah.”
“You nervous?”
“Some.”
“Well, I’ll leave you to it,” Lo says with an awkward smile. “See you around.” I know my body language and monosyllabic answers are anything but welcoming, but I can’t help it.
Keep it together, I remind myself. “See you.”
“Good luck, but I’m sure you won’t need it.”
I don’t allow myself to turn fully around, but my gaze follows him despite my better judgment. Bad move. I’m just in time to see a bikini-clad Cara throw herself into his arms. Lo catches her effortlessly, tossing her over his shoulder. She laughs at something he says and kisses him on the cheek. I duck my head, letting my hair cover my overheated face. The jealousy that spins through me is like acid, scorching every part of my insides without mercy. I gasp, nearly doubling over my board.
