Disclaimer: All of the usual things. Although I must warn you that I'm listening to Laura Marling's new album so this chapter has come out a little sadder than expected.

Thirty-One

"She's getting rough," says Jasper, his eyes scanning the horizon over my shoulder as the two of us bob out past the breakers, legs slung over our boards. He rubs his hands together, grinning excitedly. "Gunna be a ripper."

A cold wind whips across the water, sending a chill through my wetsuit, right to the bone. I'm not cut out for storm surfing; the mammoth waves and churning sea – I leave that to the pros. Sure enough, a moment later I spot Embry's lanky form paddling past a few metres away, answering the call of the howling wind and angry sea. He lives for days like this; for the type of cavernous violent wave that towers over him, the type of wave that even Jasper wants nothing to do with.

Still unable to stand for more than a few heartbeats, I know when to get my pasty butt out of the water. Today, however, had been an exception to the rule. After three straight days of rain and wind and shitty surf conditions, there was finally a break in the weather. Approaching storm or not, I, like everyone else, took the chance to suit up and paddle out. But after wipe out after wipe out I'm beginning to think I should have stayed at home. The thing is that I never feel closer to Edward than I do when I'm in the water. The idea that somewhere a million miles away he's probably doing the same thing brings me a calm like nothing else can.

Peeling my ponytail from the back of my neck and slinging it over my shoulder, I turn to watch the approaching storm; the water bright green against the dark grey sky. It's coming up fast, and the clouds are heavy and dark, looming low across the horizon. The air feels heavy around us, crackling with anticipation. Jasper's right; it's going to be a big one. Time to get my ass out of here.

"I'll meet you at home then. Don't be late for work."

Waving to a group of guys as they paddle past, Jasper swings his legs up, his chest pressed to the deck. "Righto."

I do the same, my so-cold-they're-numb toes pressed tight against the board.

"Just try one more time," urges Jasper, gesturing to the waves.

"I don't know if I've got the energy," I sigh, resting my cheek against the board.

"Nah, one more."

The thought of another wipeout, of more saltwater up my nose, turns my stomach.

"Just keep it loose, stay low, and you'll be fine," says Jasper.

Easy for him to say, that guy was born knowing how to surf.

Letting out a long sigh, I paddle forward, my tired arms protesting with each stroke. There are a few people out, but the waves are relatively small game for most everyone but me. Paddling, I check the wave over my shoulder, swimming harder as it approaches. The back of the board lifts slightly as the wave takes me, and with all of the energy I have left, I tuck my feet beneath my body and lift myself up, my arms out wide beside me. Maybe it's the natural softness of my worn out legs, or the fact I'm barely trying, but almost instantly I can feel the difference. For once, the board isn't rigid beneath my feet; it's fluid and soft and glides over the waves as they take a hold of me. It isn't me and the surfboard and the waves, it's just me, my mind suddenly blank of everything but an overwhelming sense of nothing. I can feel the water rippling under the board, feel its strength and its power. Beautiful and ferocious, the tumble of water beneath me shows me just why this indescribable moment is so addictive, why someone would chase this feeling around the world and back.

In the back of my mind I hear a roar of cheering and cat calls from somewhere, but my blood is rushing so loud and so hard in my ears that it drowns out everything besides the sound of the waves.

My knees are wobbling from exertion but I keep them as soft as I can, keeping my body weight low and giving the deck a little push to the right, exhilaration exploding through me as the board carves right, edging slightly onto the backside of the wave. I try as hard as I can to keep my balance on the board, letting the water push me along as the wave begins to crest. A little overzealous, I push the board to the right again, shifting my weight a little more, and all of a sudden the bottom falls out of my stomach as the nose of the board disappears beneath the waves and the board shoots out from under my feet, sending me head first into the water.

Beneath the water, the barrel catches me and I'm thrown about like a ragdoll for a moment, the underside of a double set having its way with me before the wave dies out, and I break the surface. Panting and sucking in a lungful of air, I move my hair from my eyes and slide up onto my board, trying to catch my breath as the waves propel me towards the shore.

The cheers are louder now, drifting over the water, a chorus of yewwwww's of my very own. Ecstatic but utterly exhausted, I flop onto the sand, my body shaking with adrenaline, my heart still thundering away in my chest. I don't care that there's sand in my hair, or that I must look like a human-sized starfish on the beach, all I can think is; I did it – finally!

I wish Edward was here to see it.

By the time my body begins to cooperate again, the sky is dark and ominous, the waves thundering across the water, cold rain falling in steady sheets. I pick myself up and unzip my wetsuit to my waist, the cold wind buffeting my damp, wrinkled skin. At home, after a rinse off under the garden hose, I peel out of my wetsuit and shiver my way into a hot shower, my feet burning as the hot water hits them, the skin turning an angry red as the blood begins to flow back to my extremities.

Ten minutes after I'm dried and warm in my work uniform, Jasper turns up, his sunshine smile echoed on his twin sister behind him as they clamber through the door.

"Fuck yeah!" yells Jasper, holding up his hand for a high five.

Wrapped in a towel, Rosie throws her arms around me, careful not to wet my clothes as she keeps an arm over my shoulder. "I can't believe I missed it!"

I lift one shoulder in a little shrug. "It's not like it was spectacular. I bombed."

"Nah," crows Jasper, looking smug. "You aced it."

"It was pretty alright," I admit with a laugh. I grab my bag off the counter. "Okay, okay. Enough of this shit. I have to get to work." I point to Jasper, who's standing in front of the open fridge. "Don't. Be. Late."

He waves a hand at me from behind the fridge door. "Yep."

Avoiding the rain, I drive the short distance to work, sitting in the car for a few minutes before my shift starts. I usually wait until just after I wake up to call Edward, since he's almost a full day behind, but I can't wait any longer to tell him. As I scroll through my phone to find his number, the smile on my face threatens to split my cheeks in two leaving me looking like a female version of The Joker. His phone rings twice, three times, four, until his message bank picks up.

"I did it!" I squeal into the phone, my voice bouncing around my tiny car. "I stood up, and I fucking surfed. Oh my God, it was the most amazing thing ever. Shit. Okay. Call me back."

Using my handbag as cover, I duck from my car into the bar, cursing as I step right into a shallow puddle, sending water up into my shoe. The storm hasn't let up at all, and for now it doesn't look like it will. I know we need the rain, but all I can think about is how sorely I miss the warm weather already. The tips of my fingers are icy and my feet are cold. And to think it's not even winter yet, and it's only going to get colder.

Spending the winter alone, without Edward around to keep me warm, is a sobering thought. If only it was me travelling the world, following the sun from continent to continent. But, with my new Arts course beginning mid-year, there's no way on earth that will be happening any time soon.

Yep. I'm going to be a college student. The signed application is all set to be sent off, I've chosen my electives, and when June rolls around I'll begin my Bachelor of Arts at Melbourne University. I'm more excited than anything, but then it's still almost three months away, there's plenty of time to freak out.

The bar is quiet when I arrive. The off-season has officially settled in and the town is left once again to the locals. Kate is the only one behind the bar when I clock in, having worked through the lunch shift.

"Word on the street is you caught your first wave," she says, a tea towel hanging from her fingers.

I roll my eyes at the computer screen, tapping my staff number in. "How did you know?"

She points across the bar to where the pool tables are, and lifting my head, I find Riley, Jacko and Embry among a bunch of guys all gathered around the table.

I cluck my tongue. "They're like an old wives club; yap, yap, yap."

After an hour or so, Kate clocks off, leaving me and Jasper – who of course turned up late. The dinner crowd is quiet, the storm keeping most people inside. The few who brave the weather come in drenched and windblown, looking for somewhere warm to sit.

I'm wasting time rewashing glasses when Jasper reaches over the sink, his head close to my ear. "If old mate at the end of the bar doesn't stop checking you out I'm going to have to clock him," he whispers, gesturing to the guys at the end of the bar.

Sure enough, there's a guy looking over, his eyes sliding away as they meet mine. He's tall, almost as tall as Edward is, but a little broader, wider, a little more defined than the wiry boy I'm used to. But he is attractive, there's no doubt about it. His close-cropped light blonde hair makes his skin look like honey; dark and golden, the kind of tan girls would pay good money for.

Rolling my eyes, I nudge Jasper away with my hip, and return to washing the glasses and watching the rain dribble down the windows. Avoiding a scene however, I attend to he and his friends rather than letting Jasper and his smart mouth get him into trouble. Ordering a drink, his accent is thick and his smile sweet, if not a little over the top. He's flirting; he knows it, and I know it. The only difference is that I know nothing will come of it.

I set his beer on the counter in front of him. "Five bucks, thanks."

He hands me a five, his golden tanned skin brushing against mine as his fingers linger just a little too long against mine. Jacko catches my eye over the guy's shoulder, his chin and brows rising in silent question. With a slight shake of my head he goes back to his game of pool, but something tells me there are more than just one pair of eyes on me tonight.

The attractive backpacker and his mate sit at the bar for a while, and I can feel him watching me as I work. It's not creepy, just a little weird. I'm not used to being looked at like that by anyone other than Edward, and it's making me nervous. The bar is quiet though, so I kind of have to make small talk with him. He's nice enough; he and his friends are regaling me with tales of their travels in South America, Brazil, Indonesia and Australia. He's had the life I could only dream of and jealousy streaks through me; thick and bitter, as I wish I had just swallowed my pride and gone with Edward.

Riley and Jacko keep one eye on the pool table and the other on my little flirty friend, ever the watchful friends they are, although I don't know who they're protecting; me or Edward. But when it's clear that neither he or his friend are in with a chance, they pay up and head off, leaving the boys at the pool table and the regulars nursing their drinks.

At eleven we push the stragglers out and lock up, and Jasper stays behind to count up the till while I head out.

The first thing I do is check my phone.

No missed calls.

No messages.

I'm not worried. I know how busy he is, and I'll speak to him in the morning anyway. Regardless, it would have been nice to talk to him before I went to sleep.

After some soup and toast, I slip into another hot shower before bed, digging my flannel pajamas out from the bottom of my drawers. I chuckle at the little love hearts all over the warm, fuzzy material, remembering Edward's distaste for sleepwear. I figure what he doesn't know won't hurt him.

Plugging my phone into its charger, the screen lights up and I see the little notification for a missed call from Edward. This time he answers, but surprisingly the first thing I hear is the thump-thump of music in the background.

"Hey!" he yells. "Gimme a sec."

I sit in silence as the sound is muffled and the music begins to die down.

"You there?" His voice never ceases to send a thrill of both excitement and comfort through me.

"Yeah," I chuckle, confused. "Where are you?"

His drawn out sigh turns into a groan. "Some nightclub. Emmett's filthy drunk, and James is trying to pick up anything wearing a dress."

Images of Edward in some Brazilian nightclub surrounded by dark-skinned beauties assault me. But I push them away, refusing to think about it.

"Hm. Sounds like fun."

"Nah not really. Hey, tell me about this wave. I can't believe I missed it!"

"Yeah, it was pretty cool." I launch into a shorter version of the event, trying my hardest to explain how it happened.

"...I was so knackered, and the storm was coming up so fast. So—"

"There was a storm?"

"Uh, yeah. But anyway—"

"Jasper let you go out in a storm?"

The words stall in my throat as my brow creases. "No. I went out right before the storm came."

"Jesus, Bella. Do you know how dangerous it is during a storm?" His angry tone takes the words right out of my mouth, and I'm left silent. "Jasper's gunna get a fucking spray for this—"

"Hang on," I interrupt, confused and bordering on irritated. "Don't be an asshole. I went out. It was my choice."

"Yeah, and it was a bad choice, Bella. I told Jasper to look out for you. You don't know the water like he does, you don't know how to get out of trouble if you get caught. And don't call me an asshole when I'm trying to watch out for you."

The pillow bears the brunt of my fist as I slam it down. "I'll call you an asshole 'cos you're being an asshole."

I pull the phone away from my ear as Edward hisses a string of words I'd rather not hear. "Whatever," he spits. "Can we drop it? I don't want to argue."

"Fine."

There's a moment of silence between us, and I can't tell if he's waiting for me to speak first, or if he's sitting there stewing over the whole storm nonsense.

After a moment he says something quietly, but his voice is interrupted by loud music.

I press the phone to my ear a little harder. "What?"

He repeats himself, but again, it gets lost in the loud noises around him. Someone calls his name, and then suddenly he's gone for a moment, his hand over the receiver as he talks to someone, laughing loudly. I miss his laugh, and hearing it without seeing the accompanying smile just makes it worse.

"Hey, can I call you back later?"

My heart sinks. "Um. Yeah, okay."

"James and Pete want to go to some place up the street."

"Okay."

He pauses for a moment. "Are you pissy with me?"

"No. Why?"

"You just sound weird."

"How do I sound weird?"

"I dunno."

A sigh slips out, and I roll onto my side, burying my face under my doona. "I'm fine."

"No you're not. What's wrong?"

"Nothing! Can you just stop asking me that?"

"Calm down. Fuck. What's wrong with you?"

"Oh my God, nothing, just go and call me back later."

I hang up without waiting for him to reply, and the minute I do, I feel shitty. I don't know why I got so defensive; I know he's only looking out for me. I guess the idea that he's out somewhere, surrounded by warm tropical air and some fantastic nightclub makes me a little jealous. It's not that I'm worried about the girls. It's never been like that with Edward because I trust him implicitly. It's that he's there; halfway across the world living his dream, while I'm here in flannelette pajamas and toe socks like a loser.

He doesn't ring back, and I fall asleep with my phone in my hand working up the courage to do it.

That night I barely sleep. The clock on my phone mocks me with the time when I open my eyes.

3:30am

4:15am

Frustrated, I toss my pillow to the floor, trying to find comfort in my suddenly too-spacious, too-empty bed.

5:55am

At around six-thirty I finally find sleep.

Around lunch time, the dull rumble of my phone's vibrate setting yanks me out of my dream and I instantly answer, fumbling a little as I bring it to my ear.

"Hello?"

"Hey." His voice is hoarse and throaty.

My entire body wilts in relief. "You sound like shit."

He forces a short chuckle. "Yeah, I feel like shit. I'm hung over as fuck."

Through the windows I can hear the steady drip, drip, drip of the water falling from the gutters, and the pitter-patter of light rain on the garden outside. The storm has eased, but the rain still hasn't stopped.

"I'm sorry for being a bitch last night."

Edward groans. "You weren't a bitch. I was an asshole."

I don't know how to reply. He was a bit of a wanker, but in the grey light of a new day, and with him so far away, it all seems to trivial and stupid.

"I guess I was just pissed off that I wasn't there for your first proper surf," he admits.

The ache of longing blooms in my chest, and I bite my lip in order to keep my voice from betraying me. "I know. I wish you'd been here too. But you'll be home soon and we can go out together." I laugh shakily, trying on a wobbly smile. "It was probably a fluke anyway."

He's quiet, and when he finally speaks the echoing ache in his voice mirrors my own and breaks my heart just a little bit more. "I miss you like crazy, Bella. I don't know what's going on."

"I miss you too."

"I didn't know it was going to be this hard. It's like it's there every minute, every day, and I don't know what to do about it."

A tear slips from my eye and into my pillow as another one slides over the bridge of my nose before landing with a plop on the pillowcase. Closing my eyes, I whisper, "Six weeks," in a vain attempt at making us feel better. Only it doesn't, and six weeks suddenly feels like an eternity.

He sighs, and when I squeeze my eyes together tightly I can see him with his head down, scrubbing his fingers through his hair like he does when he's particularly frustrated. I want so much to be able to tell him something to make him feel better, but what is there to say? He's got another month and a half before he can come home, and aside from the dodgy Skype calls with fuzzy reception, there's nothing more either of us can do until then.

Edward takes a long deep breath. "Six weeks, hey? Guess that's not too bad."

"We can do it, Edward. Just think about coming home. I'll be here."

"Yeah, I know. And I love you even more for that. For waiting."

"Like I have a choice. I love you, so I'll wait."

Tiff and Shell beta'd and then I wrote a bunch of stuff afterwards so all the errors are mine, trust me. The lovely Ink preread before also, thank you, girl.

And thanks to you for sticking around. We're almost there, I promise. xx