Chapter One: Beauty and the Beach.
Chelsea McCarthy kicked her legs, propelling herself to the ocean surface with a final burst of adrenaline even as her lungs screamed for air. Breaking through the waves, she looked around, focusing on the tiny stretch of California coastline that she called home for the last fifteen and a half years. Harborside beach was still packed at 5 pm. She could see couples lounging on beach blankets while their kids dug in the sand or attempted to body board, but beyond the roped off swim area, Chelsea was flying solo. She had always preferred it that way. But that was before she'd met James Maslow. As if on cue, he paddled his surfboard towards her.
"Go ahead and gloat, Chels," James said, not sounding the least bit out of breath, even though he had just paddled over the breaking waves. He pushed a beat up surfboard toward her. His favorite black wet suit, the one with the blue waves on the chest, looked barely wet even though they'd both been in the water for almost an hour.
Chelsea, or Chels, as James called her (only her grandmother called her Melissa, her mother's name, when she called her anything at all), rested her arms on the bobbing board. She couldn't help but smirk at James. "I didn't say anything".
"You didn't have to," James grumbled even though his hazel eyes were playful. Salt water dripped from his brown, somewhat shaggy, hair, and he wiped it off his face. "You win, Chels. I'm man enough to admit you can swim faster than I can paddle out here, but," he added before she could gloat, "let's not forget that I was carting two boards, and pelicans were nose diving at my head."
Chelsea tapped her chipped purple nails lightly on the board, the bath-like water lapping at her upper back, which was the only part of her torso not covered by the unflattering blue speedo she wore for her job as a lifeguard.
After four, she was off-duty, but unlike some of the other guards that she worked with, she didn't waste time changing into her bathing suit before going in for a dip. Why waste time? When she wasn't working, there was no place she'd rather be than the ocean. James was the first guy she'd met that seemed to feel the same way. They'd only been friends since mid-July, but they hung out practically every day since, and this was the best time to do it. By 5pm, the soupy California heat started to subside and there was a light breeze. The sun was still bright, but low enough that they didn't need sunscreen and the water wasn't overly crowded with kids goofing around or adults twice her size who could barely swim. 5pm was 'me' time and when me time included James, it was that much better.
"It only took you half of July and all of August to realize I pretty much know everything there is to know about being in the water," Chelsea teased, staring at his woven rope necklace that had the small shark tooth dangling from it. "You surfers are all alike. Cocky".
"Hey," James argued even as he smiled an extra adorable grin. "It's not cocky; it's called confident. There's a difference. You lifeguards seem to forget that".
Chelsea coyly pushed her light brown hair out of her blue-green eyes. "It's kinda hard not to when we're pulling you guys out of the rip current at least once a day".
James gave her a sharp look. "I told you a million times, I was fine".
"You didn't look fine," Chelsea reminded him, wrinkling her freckled nose at the memory. "You were going-"
"Against the current instead of with it," James interrupted, and shook his head, the dimple in his left cheek beginning to form. "I'm never gonna live that down, am I?"
"Nope," Chelsea said, feeling at ease like she always did around him. They were just friends- friends in a teasing, sort of flirty way- but for some reason it didn't matter. Well, it mattered a little, but they had such a good time together she almost forgot he wasn't her boyfriend. She knew practically everything there was to know about him, from how much he loved to surf to his favorite iPod playlist. They liked the same bands, preferred water over dry land, and would take a cheeseburger over a slice of pizza any day. Maybe that was why she was beginning to dread the thought of school starting in a few days. When would she see James then? They hung out only at the beach. She wasn't even sure where he lived. Whenever she asked, his cryptic answer was always "Nearby."
James looked at the shore as he bobbed up and down on his board, and Chelsea tried not to ogle his toned arms. "So, ready to try surfing again? Maybe you can actually stay on the board today".
Chelsea pulled herself up on her board and floated next to him, their tan knees touching. James', she noticed, were beaten up and bruised from crash landings. "Do we have to keep doing this?" she groaned. "Why do I need to know how to surf?"
"I told you- so you can do it with me. Let's try this again, okay?" James instructed, his square jawline set. "I'll make you a deal. If you can manage to get up this time, I'll buy at Scoops".
Chelsea grinned. "You're on, surfer boy".
She reached down and attached her board's leg strap to her ankle. She'd learned her lesson about being untethered last week when she had to swim after a runaway board. Then she paddled after James, trying to remember his instructions- when to stand up, how to lean left or right into the wave for balance, how to hold her legs. James had given her this board after he bought one that had a pirate ship on it. The gift had come with one condition- that Chelsea had to keep both boards in the lifeguard hut for him. James said his board didn't fit in the back of his Jeep. He had just turned sixteen and his parents had bought him the truck for his birthday, which lead Chelsea to assume that James didn't live that close to Harborside, because she lived there and no kid she knew owned a car, let alone a new one.
Chelsea looked for the balance point James had marked with wax and tried not to 'cork' the board, as he'd called it. Something about too much weight in the back. She watched James almost fifteen feet ahead of her- the proper safety distance- and saw him effortlessly stand up on the board as a wave began to crest. She'd remembered what he'd said as she got closer to the waves and pushed up on the board, keeping her legs on the stringer and gripping the board with her feet. She was supposed to look like a sumo wrestler, and it was working. She was up! Was James seeing this? Even her feet were in the right positions! Then two seconds later, she fell and cursed herself for looking down, which was what James told her not to do. The surf was swirling around her, and as she swam to the surface, her board whacked her in the head. She dragged her board behind her as she hit the beach a few minutes later with a scowl on her face.
James watched her as he stood next to two kids playing in the sand with plastic army men. His board was staked next to him, giving him the appearance of a guy who had just won a Teen Choice Award surfboard. James could probably win, for looks alone, if he lived in LA and was discovered by a film agent. Taylor Lautner's mug had nothing on James Maslow's.
"I can't believe you looked down, Chels! It was going so well!" James said, as if she needed reminding.
Chelsea rubbed her head. "I know, I know, and I'm going to pay for it with a big, fat headache."
James put his arm around her, smelling like a mix of coconut and saltwater. His black wet suit hugged his taut stomach and Chelsea felt her breath get stuck in her throat. "You'll get it eventually, lifeguard. Or maybe not." He rubbed her head like she was his kid brother. "Tell you what: I'll buy at Scoops even though you screwed up." She started to protest. "You save that paltry salary of yours."
Fifteen minutes later, after they both toweled off and Chelsea threw on frayed jean shorts and a tank top over her suit, they flip-flopped across the crowded board walk toward Scoops, where her friend Lexie Bennett worked. Chelsea knew it sounded silly to have such a deep affection for a place, but almost everything she loved about Harborside was on these planks. She'd learned how to play Dance Dance Revolution at the arcade, scored her first hole in one with her mom at the Mermaid Putt-Putt, made pizza with Grams at Harbor's Finest, held her first job at Scoops, and had her first kiss on the amusement park roller coaster. But what she still loved best about Harborside Pier was the community center. Sandwiched between the boardwalk and the main drag, the community center had been her family ever since her mom died. And Chelsea had very litter family to speak of.
"Look who's here! The beach bum and the lifeguard! " Lexie yelled as a tiny bell on the door announced James and Chelsea's arrival at the homemade-ice-cream parlor. Lexie's loud voice startled some of the customers eating at the tiny tables. Chelsea and James walked up to the long counter, where Lexie was making an ice-cream sundae. "So what are you guys having?" Lexie asked. She slid the sundae over to the startled customer and leaned toward Chelsea, her brown bangs falling in her eyes, not being able to be held up in her somewhat messy ponytail.
"Um, hello?" said cool voice. "I believe we were next."
Chelsea noticed a well-dressed couple in their twenties at the other end of the counter. The guy nudged the girl, who gave him a sour face. "What? You wanted homemade ice cream, right?" she whispered. "And I want to leave this boardwalk before some pickpocket dips into my Tory Burch bag."
The guy rolled his eyes. "Jessica, you're overreacting."
"You heard what the taxi driver said," she said in hushed tones. "I know you like to 'keep it real,' but I'm not hanging out all night on some dodgy boardwalk when our hotel has a private beach."
Harborside Pier may have been as popular as it ever was, but it was dogged that summer with stories about teen gangs and how shady the area had become. One of the pier shops had been broken into and robbed, and a knife fight earlier this summer between locals and gang members had turned ugly. No one Chelsea knew had been involved. Her friends had hung out under the boardwalk at night, but they weren't thieves or hoodlums. There just weren't a lot of places for them to hang. Chelsea knew she didn't live in Beverly Hills, but she also knew Harborside wasn't unsafe if you knew how to navigate it. She wished she had the nerve to tell that costumer that.
"Lexie, you should help them first," Chelsea said instead. "They were waiting."
Lexie rolled her eyes and pulled at her stained white Scoops tee. "Whatever." Like most of Chelsea's friends, Lexie didn't mask her feelings, even if they stung. "What do you want?"
James glanced at his diver's watch. "I've gotta check in at home. Order for me?" he asked Chelsea, then winked. "She'll give you extra toppings." He pulled his phone out of his orange backpack as Chelsea scanned the day's ice-cream flavor chart.
When Lexie was done serving Miss Uptight her kid-size fat free vanilla whip cone, she planted herself in front of Chelsea and grinned slyly. "So?" she said meaningfully.
"So what?" Chelsea repeated slowly.
"So have you told Mr. Hot Surfer Dude that you want to be the topping on his soft-serve cone yet?" Lexie asked.
Chelsea felt her face flush. What if James has heard Lexie say that? She turned around slowly and to her relief saw James's butt pressing against the glass window as she leaned into it while talking on the phone outside. "Lexie, geez!" Chelsea said, her color returning to normal. "I told you a million times. We're just friends."
Lexie gave her a knowing look. "You don't act like just friends".
Chelsea looked down at the Cookies-and-Cream tub. If she looked at Lexie, her eyes might give something away. "Well, we are, so would you lay off? Besides, I don't have time for a boyfriend."
"That's true," Lexie said, walking away to put the ice cream scoopers in the tiny kitchen sink. "I don't even know how you time to sleep between work, swim practice, taking care of Grams, food shopping…"
Chelsea shrugged and pushed her still-damp hair behind her ears. "It's no big deal."
"It's a huge deal," Lexie disagreed, and then smiled slowly. "Which is why I think you need a little fun." Lexie looked at James's butt and sighed. "And Mr. Hot Surfer Dude definitely looks like fun".
"Lexie," Chelsea said, starting to feel both annoyed and uncomfortable. "Drop it."
Lexie rolled her eyes again. "Fine. You should snap that boy up, though. If you don't, trust me, someone else will."
The bell hanging on the door jingled, and James walked back in, his flip flops making scuffling sounds against the sandy floor. "Did you decide what you want yet?"
"Oh, she knows exactly what she wants," Lexie replied, looking intently at Chelsea. "She just hasn't figured out how to order it."
"A scoop of Oreo, a scoop of Marshmallow Supreme, and one of Butter Toffee," Chelsea said quickly, "with gummy bears." James looked amused. "I'm a growing girl."
"No complaints here," he said. "I like a girl who eats."
Chelsea tried to think of the appropriate comeback, but before she could, she felt her cell phone vibrate in her pocket. She didn't recognize the number but she picked it up anyway. "Hello?" She immediately regretted her decision. "No. I'm at the beach." Pause. "Nope, I have to stop at the community center first. I forgot my swim meet registration forms." Her smile slowly faded, and the room began to spin around her. "Yeah, I can be there at six thirty. Bye." She snapped the phone shut, her eyes blinking rapidly, and grabbed the counter to steady herself. She couldn't believe this was happening. "I'm going to have to take you up on that ice cream offer tomorrow," she said quietly, no looking at James.
"Everything okay?" he asked, his brow wrinkling with worry.
"Did Grams lock herself out of the house again?" Lexie asked as she finished Chelsea's order and slid it down to her.
Chelsea pushed it back. "No, I just have to get home." She avoided their stares.
"Let me drive you," James suggested.
Great. For the first time James offered to drive Chelsea home, she would have to say no. "I've gotta go to the center first," Chelsea explained, looking up at him. He had to be at least six foot two. "Besides, I'm only a few blocks from there. You stay and hang out. I'll see you tomorrow."
James grinned. "Okay, because you, my friend, seriously need some more surf lessons."
Chelsea forced herself to groan playfully. "Don't I know it? See you Lexie," she managed with a smile, even though she felt like the floor was going to fall out from under her.
Leaving Scoops, Chelsea unlocked her bike from the rack and raced down the boardwalk bike path, felling the wind whip her hair, and her face as if she were at the top of the Ferris wheel. Then she slowed down her pedaling and reminded herself of the truth: She wasn't on the Ferris wheel. She would soon be on her way home where her social worker, Summer Hayes, would be waiting for her.
The questions ran through Chelsea's head almost too fast for her to keep up. Was Summer there to push foster care again? Summer and Grams had been discussing the idea ever since Grams' health had starting going downhill since last year, but Chelsea was still vehemently against it. When Grams remembered things (which felt like forever ago now), she had said another option was to find a distant relative to take care of Chelsea, but Chelsea had hated that idea, too. She had lived with her grandmother ever since her mom brought her home form the hospital when she was a baby. Chelsea had never met her dad. Her mom hadn't even told anyone who the guy was. So it was Grams that became Chelsea's legal guardian when her mom died in a car crash a few years ago. Now that Grams was sick, it was Chelsea's turn to return to favor. Grams was the only family she had left, and she wasn't going to let the state of California take that away from her.
Just a quick author's note here. This story features all the guys and their respective OC's. They're not coming in all at once but I assure you, they're coming. Anyways, thank you so much for reading my story! I hope you enjoyed it :) Xoxo -AH
{Copyright: I do not own anything in this story but the ideas in my head}