All At Sea by Pepper Ellison Read Free Book Online

my interest. The idea of being honored. You really think he’s capable of that? With a bit of training, I mean? Because my past experience with a nice yacht club boy didn’t quite go like that.
    And again, don’t worry about me with Lachie. If I recall, he’s not the one who put a ring on a sweet girl’s finger only to take off across the planet the next day. I’m sure the future Mrs. Murdock feels so very honoured right now.
     
     
    Tuesday 25 th February 3.06pm
    —near North Shore, Oahu—
    I have never said anything hurtful to you. Ever.
    Don’t be a bitch. It’s boring. Don’t be boring.
     
     
    Tuesday 25 th February 3.18pm
    —Honolulu Museum of Art—
    Okay. I was out of line. I was just frustrated with you. It felt like I was in the right but when I read the words back to myself, they looked ugly. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.
    But can I ask that you stop trying to sort out what and who is best for Amelia? (I’m not saying that in a mean way, I’m asking politely....) Because you keep doing that, trying to set me on a path that you feel is a good fit for me. I may only be eighteen, but I know what I’m doing.
    This friends thing is going to be harder than I thought it would be.
    P.S. There’s a piece at the museum called “Surf-Riders, Honolulu.” Color woodblock print. It’s almost a hundred years old. If you haven’t seen it yet, check it out. It’s bitchin’.
    P.P.S. Is the surfing invite still open?
     
     
    Tuesday 25 th 4.16pm
    —North Shore Hostel—
    Yeah, sure. If you come right now I can borrow Olaf’s car and take you round to a special surfing place. Let’s agree not to talk. OK? Just about surfing.
    And I can laugh at you when you pull out all your cool surfer lingo you picked up at that other beach.
     
     
    Tuesday 25 th February 8.01pm
    —North Shore Hostel—
    It’s quiet now. Lachie’s gone next door. We’re going out soon. There is a little street vendor not far from here who does scallops in a wok. He serves them up in this little paper cone thing, which goes soggy, so you have to eat quick. Heaps of salt. Omfg they are huge and burning hot, and just the best.
    He’s pretty shitty that we snuck off without him. It was fun though. Like a heist. Him running down the street after us, swearing. Olaf’s pathetic VW puttering along so slow, he nearly caught up with us. He punched me when I got back.
    Ahh Lachie. King of Subtle Cues.
    You asked me a serious question, and I kind of grunted because I didn’t want to talk about it, and then you got all prickly with me. But it was beautiful and still sitting out there with the water all glassy, just soaking in the sun and not talking. Wasn’t it?
    It was ‘rad’. Lol! I almost fell off my board.
    The answer is yes. I talk to Fiona every day. She sends me wedding invitation samples and menus and pictures of silver shoes. She wants to talk about who my groomsmen will be. Flowers. Horse-drawn carriages. It’s all wedding all the time.
    I know that I have to break it off. I know that, but can’t you see that it also means I can never go back there? It’s my home town. It’s where I’m from. I know every street. I know generations of people there. I think there is genuine affection for me.
    And now, for the rest of my life I will be the guy who left Fifi at the altar.
    Or I can marry her now and save her embarrassment, then divorce her two years from now. Because I already know she’s not my wife.
    It’s like looking at an old dog. You know you’ve got to make the appointment to put it down. It’s just a matter of picking up the phone. Every minute you can find a dozen reasons not to put your old dog down.
    Except it’s even more complicated, because one, dogs get old, but the proposal wasn’t an inevitable thing. I made a mistake. I’m impulsive and stupid, and I don’t think ahead about how something I might fleetingly feel at this moment is going to change everything for someone else.
    And two, I’ve