He helped me load up after we rinsed off, strapping my old lime green board to the top of Old Not-So Faithful. And just like the reliable Betty that she was, the 1998 Kia Sportage failed to turn over when I tried to start her up.

“Great,” I murmured, my head hitting the top of the steering wheel. Jamie had just finished loading his own board a few cars away, and he made his way back over.

“Not starting?”

“Seems to be my lucky day.”

He smiled, tugging the handle on my door to pull it open. “Come on, I’ll drive you home.”

I didn’t know it then, but that one small gesture, those six small words, they would be what changed everything between me and Jamie Shaw.

AS MUCH AS I LOVED THE BEACH, I hated what it did to my hair.

I was a product of my parents, taking equal features from each. I had my father’s eyes, my mother’s hair, a smooth mixture of their skin tones. With my dad being white and my mom being black, I fell right in-between them with a creamy mocha latte. I was short like my mom and stubborn like my dad, and somehow I inherited the fiercest combination of their work ethic. My mom was petite, with virtually no curves to speak of and I mirrored her in that respect. I loved my athletic build, even if it didn’t grab the attention of boys the way Jenna’s hips did.

All that being said, salt water mixed with my hair about as well as water mixed with oil. I tried my best to tame it in the small visor mirror in the passenger seat of Jamie’s Jeep, using my fingers to try to breathe life back into the tight spiral curls. I wiped my fingers across my cheeks next, rubbing the leftover salt away. My gray-blue eyes looked tired that day, and I let them flick to the freckles on the apples of my cheeks for just the shortest second before flipping the visor back up and settling back in the leather seat.

I’d never seen a Jeep that nice, let alone ridden in one. It was brand new, cherry red, with black leather seats and a tricked-out dashboard. It seemed a little much to me, especially for a highschooler. Did a seventeen-year-old really need such an expensive car?

The answer was absolutely not.

But I’d learned a lot about Jamie in those eight days since we’d first met, thanks to a little social media stalking. Our school was ginormous, there were more than six-hundred kids in mine and Jenna’s grade alone. But, I wasn’t too proud to surf the Web to find out more about my best friend’s new guy, and I learned a good amount. Enough to know that his father owned one of the top privately-owned accounting firms in Fort Lauderdale and Jamie would want for nothing the rest of his life. I hoped to go to college in California, but there was no doubt in my mind he would get there if that’s what he decided he wanted.

I half-wondered what that would be like, growing up knowing finances would never keep you from anything, but mostly I didn’t care. I was brought up with the mindset that you work hard for what you want in life, and that’s what I intended to do. I was already well on my way, focusing on my grades and getting involved in what school activities I could stomach to build my resume for college applications.

I also discovered that he had a dog named Brutus and two sisters, both younger, both just as gorgeous as him.

That was as far as I let my stalking go before I could no longer claim it wasn’t creepy.

“So just take this all the way to Scenic Drive?” Jamie asked, turning onto Cherry Street.

“Yep. Take a left on Scenic and I’m the fourth house on the right. It’s bright yellow, can’t miss it.”

A soft silence fell over us and I ran my hands over my hair again, smoothing it down, wondering if Jamie even cared what it looked like at all.

“This is a really nice car,” I said stupidly, breaking the silence. Jamie’s eyes lit up a bit and he shifted, switching hands on the steering wheel.

“Thanks. I had to work my ass off for three summers to earn it, so I appreciate it.”

I cocked a brow. “You paid for this yourself?”

“Well, kind of. I worked for my dad at his firm for three summers without being paid. I just told my dad I wanted a Jeep, a nice one, one that I could use to tote my board around but also be comfortable in for a long road trip.” He turned to me then. “He finally bought if for me after this past summer.”

“Nice. And why exactly does your car have to be road trip proof?”

Jamie noticed me crossing my arms, goosebumps breaking on my skin from the salt water drying. He leaned forward to adjust the air. “I don’t know, just in case, I guess. I love to drive. Helps clear my head.”

I nodded. “Yeah, I get that.”

“It’s also about the only time I get to listen to the music I actually want to listen to. You know, when no one else is in the car to say anything about it.”

“Okay, now I’m curious,” I said, uncrossing my arms and tucking my legs beneath me. “What exactly do you listen to?”

Jamie pressed his lips together in a tight line. “Promise not to laugh?”

“No.”

He chuckled. “Then I can’t show you.”

“Fine, fine. I won’t laugh.” He eyed me, debating whether to trust me or not. “At least, not loud enough for you to hear.”

“Fair enough.” He smiled, but it dropped quickly as he plugged his phone into the auxiliary cord and thumbed through his music. Each time he flicked his thumb up, scrolling through the playlists, a long indented line would break on his forearm where the muscles worked. I let my eyes stay there, watching that muscle, until the first note played as we pulled up to a stop light.

It was soft, soothing, familiar. Really familiar. When it sank in what song it was, I couldn’t hold back my reaction.

“No fucking way.”

“Yeah, I know, it’s nerdy.” Jamie reached for the volume knob but I smacked his hand away.

“No, no it’s amazing. I just, I can’t believe you listen to classical music. This is Brian Crain, right?”

It was his turn to blanch. “Yes.”

“I love him,” I said excitedly, sitting up straighter. I might have even bounced a little. “He’s incredible. Please tell me you listen to The Piano Guys, too.”

His mouth fell open. “I fucking love The Piano Guys.”

We both laughed, our eyes bright, searching each other as if the other didn’t truly exist. “This is crazy! I’ve never met anyone else who loved this kind of music. Like… ever.”