“Yeah, that’s her. She recently decided, along with Fliss and another girl, Daisy, that she was going to find out who Razzle was for us so that we wouldn’t blame Fliss.”
“Huh. That’s pretty odd timing then for that phone call,” Naomi says.
“Yeah, especially because she drives a silver Audi TT,” I tell them.
It feels like ping pong balls are bouncing around in my brain, and Naomi and Summer must be experiencing something similar because it’s silent for several minutes as we all contemplate what the hell is going on.
By the time we get back to the house, we’ve got a few theories. Unable to stay quiet about it, we end up bringing Marco and Marie into the loop. Instead of admiring the new pergola over the back deck as we grill, we throw around various theories about Griff’s stalker situation.
The Audi was parked on his street and left when she saw Griff’s car pull up to his house. He’d spotted it too, and was a little behind us by the time he pulled out of the drive to chase her. Beck had been circling another part of the neighborhood.
By the time we’re done eating, we’ve decided we’ll just have to wait until tomorrow night to get answers.
Marie passes around a box of popsicles. Once we’ve all got one in hand she holds hers up for a cheers. “To finding Griff’s stalker and putting it behind us.”
It might be the strangest toast of all time, but no one’s ready to laugh about it yet. The popsicle toast comes with grave nods. It’s not a celebratory moment, not yet, but hopefully that will come soon.
Beck
“How’d you end up at Riptide today anyway?” I ask Jordan as we leave Mom’s house.
“You know I haven’t been back since my friends visited, right?”
“Yeah, that’s why I was surprised to see that picture.”
“I don’t know, I just felt like it was time to check out the half pipe again. I knew it would be busy and I didn’t want to skateboard, but I wanted to go up there again.”
I know she wants to try it again someday, but after crashing on both her attempts, it’s more of a head game than anything at this point.
“I didn’t like seeing those pictures of you and Griff,” I admit. “But that was the point. As much as I trust you and trust Griff, the idea of anyone implying the two of you have something going on, even a random person on Instagram, it’s not cool.”
“I’m sorry, Beck. I know it sounds stupid but going up there with someone else, someone who wasn’t you, was another little step forward in my Riptide half pipe battle.”
“Battle, huh?”
“Yeah, I feel like I’m at war with that thing. Eventually I’ll conquer it, but I’m not there yet. Still basking in my 720 bliss, wanting to get that perfect and consistent enough to do at the X Games in a few weeks.”
I’m happy to move on to talking about skateboarding, but I have something else I’ve been wanting to tell her since getting those messages on my phone. “Hey. I want you to know that you’re not alone when it comes to letting messages like the ones from Razzle get in your head. Even knowing exactly what you and Griff were talking about and that the second photo was staged, there’s just something about a stranger jumping to conclusions about your personal life that’s unsettling. I didn’t like it.”
“Really? It really bothered you?” She sounds doubtful.
“It’s not like I actually believed the message she was trying to send me. And I doubt you believed some of the things she and the bubbles account said before either. But that’s my point. It still kind of gets to me, pisses me off, and this is after us being together much longer. After me dealing with social media fans for years.”
“I haven’t had anything as bad as those messages from December. Just some annoying comments that are easy to dismiss. Nothing going after why you’re with me.”
“Good. But if it happens again, and it might, my point is, it’s okay to be rattled. It doesn’t make you weak. It doesn’t mean you’re not cut out to handle this world. Griff and I still get rattled sometimes too, and we’ve been in it a long time.”
When I glance over at her, her eyes are a little glassy. Jordan’s voice is thick too when she says, “Thanks. I guess I needed to hear that more than I knew.”
“And you know what I like to do when I feel this way?” I ask, ready to lighten the mood.
“Parking garage?”
“Yep.” She knows me too well.
“I’m down. But you should know we actually have the condo to ourselves for once tonight. I sent the girls a long group text filling them in on Sydney and today. They won’t be back until tomorrow anyway.”
It’s been a long time since we’ve had that kind of privacy.
“But,” Jordan adds, “we also still have that jump into the pool and I doubt anyone will be around this late on a Sunday so we can hit that up first if you want?”
This girl really knows me well. I’ve got a need for an adrenaline rush whenever I get uptight or upset about something, and I’d rather get it out of my system on a skateboard first before the other kind of rush I’m looking forward to.
When we pull into the condo parking lot, Jordan runs inside to change into a suit. I’ve already got board shorts on and I pull out the cornhole boards from under the bed in the back that I haven’t gotten around to painting yet. After dropping those at the pool deck, I head to the area where we stored the boards for the rest of the jump last time. They’re tucked behind the recycling and trash dumpster, but no one’s hauled them away yet. I carry the ramps with me, eyeing the pool shed and wondering if we could store them there next time. It’s then my eyes catch on a car parked in the farthest spot in the lot, on the other side of the condo complex. A silver Audi TT.
My heart kickstarts and I drop the boards along the pool fence before walking over to the car. There’s no one inside though, and I find myself jogging toward the condo.
Jordan left the door unlocked, which is no surprise. I hesitate a moment at the bottom of the stairs up to her room, listening. There’s nothing. Not even movement. Wouldn’t she have come out if she heard me open the door? I debate calling out to her but I’ve got a weird feeling Sydney is here right now, and instinct tells me to stay silent. The only light is coming from Jordan’s room, and I take my first step before she comes out, still fully dressed.
“Oh, hey Beck. Uh, my parents just called, sorry. Am I taking too long? I’ll be right out. Just need to change.” Her eyes are huge, her voice high-pitched. Fuck. Fuck.
“Okay. We can skip the pool if you want.” Something isn’t right, that much is clear, but I can’t read her mind.
Jordan throws her hand up when I take another step. “No, just give me a few minutes to finish talking to my mom and change and I’ll be right out.”
Okay, so she doesn’t want me to come up, but why? “You want me to wait down here?” It’s a weird enough question that it will clue her in that I know something is up. Normally I’d just go right on up there. I’m not about to tell her about the car in the lot. I’ve got a feeling she’s also figured out Sydney’s in the house, and is afraid if I come up it will escalate the situation. My entire body goes cold, my limbs stiffening, as another possibility flashes in front of me.