Brazen Rush: Brazen Series Book 1 Read online

  Brazen Rush

  Brazen Series Book 1

  Ali Dean

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  About the Author

  Also by Ali Dean

  Acknowledgments

  Sneak Peek

  Chapter One

  Jordan

  I’m right where I’ve always wanted to be, and I’m about to have a panic attack. My heart is racing, my palms sweating so bad I worry I’ll drop my skateboard. This is Riptide Skatepark. It’s where the skateboarding scene began, where the legends of the sport practiced, where they still practice today.

  Some of them are riding around shirtless right before my eyes. I take a gulp of air. And then another.

  “You okay?” my new roommate, Lucy Briones, asks.

  I glance over at her. We met two days ago at freshman orientation, and she’s almost everything I could have asked for in an assigned dorm mate. I say almost because she’s a surfer, not a skateboarder.

  She holds her board now, glancing between me and the park. “The waves aren’t that great. I can stay if you want,” she offers.

  My legs are nearly shaking but I force myself to swallow and flash a weak smile. “Nah, I got this.”

  Lucy’s eyes twinkle at my false bravado but she puts out a fist to bump with mine, not calling me out.

  “Cool, I’ll be back in like, an hour. Or two.” She starts walking backward. “Depends who I run into. You never know when you might meet the love of your life.” Lucy wiggles two fingers in a little wave before spinning around and heading to the beach.

  I watch her go, taking one deep breath after the next. Maybe I should have taken her up on her offer to invite some of her friends who skateboard. I thought I wanted to skate this park for the first time alone, but now that I’m here, it takes strength to turn myself back around instead of chasing Lucy down to the water. She’s already comfortable at this landmark beach, having lived her entire life in Newdale, a town nearby.

  The place is packed. I’ve been to crowded skateparks before, plenty of times, but this one isn’t just filled with skaters. There are dozens of people milling about watching, some snapping videos from their phones, or with legit cameras. It isn’t the usual mix I see at the skateboard parks back in Connecticut. There are no young kids, scooter-riders, or obvious newbies. No, Riptide is a place for the hardcore skateboarders. With that realization, I should know I belong, but I’m still hesitating.

  My eyes scan the park, and my heartbeat picks up again when I can’t find a single female skater. Riptide is where it all happens, a symbol of skateboarding culture worldwide. And yet, on a sunny Saturday afternoon in August, there is not a single girl to be found. Except for me.

  That thought sends a ripple of determination through me. It’s enough to shake loose some of the panic. I hold on to that, ignoring the trepidation threatening to overtake me, and I drop my board.

  With my left leg leading, my right pushes off, and I move up the sidewalk and into the park. Some heads turn with the presence of estrogen entering the scene, but I don’t acknowledge them. If I could get away with wearing headphones, I’d tune out the world around me entirely. But it’s too dangerous with the park so crowded.

  I skate over to the smallest bowls, and wait my turn to drop in. After a minute, the guy next to me nods, and I slide down. Rolling across the surface with the smell of salt water freshening the air instantly loosens my tense muscles. I carve around a wall, and that little rush makes me smile. And remember why it’s all worth it. My legs move as one with my board, applying pressure to pick up speed, leaning slightly to the side to turn in a figure-eight around the bowl.

  I’m only warming up, but the sense of freedom hits me in the chest, obliterating the panic attack that was brewing minutes earlier. This is what I moved across the country for. This is why I chose a college so far from home. Skateboarding makes me feel alive more than anything else in the world ever could.

  I catch a little air as I exit the bowl, but I’m not going for any tricks. Still, the guy who nodded at me earlier lets out a whistle. My neck instantly heats, and not for the first time, I wish there were other women in the park. It’s not like I’ve done anything special, but just the sight of someone with boobs riding garners attention I’m not into.

  After a couple more drops in the smaller bowl, I make my way to the bigger bowl. People seem to be migrating to the half pipe, but there’s still a wait to get into the kidney-shaped structure that I’m familiar with from watching YouTube videos online.

  The sound of female voices has me swinging my head over to the half pipe. A group of five young women about my age are standing by the large structure. But they don’t have skateboards. They’re here for the spectacle. And I can’t blame them. It’s only my own need to skate that’s keeping me from watching the guys riding the pipe right now.

  Beckett Steele and Griffin Perry were the first two I recognized when we approached the park earlier. They’re probably responsible for my near-panic attack. But they aren’t the only skateboarders riding mere feet away from me that I’ve watched online. I’ve studied some of these guys’ style and tricks for hours on end from my laptop. I knew a lot of them skated around here, of course I did. I was even prepared to spot one or two today. I just wasn’t prepared for so many of them. Okay fine, it was Beckett and Griffin I really wasn’t prepared for.

  Which is why I’m ignoring their presence. Even as the sound of girls laughing and screaming increases, I keep my eyes trained on the kidney-shaped bowl below me. After ten minutes waiting my turn, I realize the guys don’t think I’m planning on dropping in. They aren’t giving me the chance because they assume I’m too scared. That I’m only here to watch them.

  My eyes connect with the half dozen skateboarders surrounding the bowl. One by one I look at them, letting them know I’m going in. A few nod, one smiles, and only one frowns, like he’s worried for me, or maybe confused at the prospect of a girl riding such a steep vert. Whatever.

  When I finally get my turn, my legs are shaky. This vert is intense, and my board takes off faster than I’m prepared for. After a few conservative carves, I get a feel for the line of the bowl. I’ve been watching others as they drop in and lose speed, and I know I’ve got to carve hard and pump to get the speed needed to reach the lip and do some tricks.

  Once I’ve worked up momentum, I hit the coping for some basic tricks. There are cheers when I catch some air, and it hypes me up, even if I’m not entirely sure they’re for me. Could be for Beckett and Griffin on the half pipe. The hollers grow as I increase speed, hugging the walls and staying high. This is my favorite part of skateboarding, going fast as I prepare for my next trick. I get to show off my style, aggressive yet feminine, and I grin, knowing I skate like a girl. I’m proud of it, and I�
��m about to try a trick that very few women have landed. It won’t be the first time, but each time I land a 540, it’s just as satisfying.

  Once I’ve got the speed, I aim for the wall, and when I’ve sped to the edge, I launch in the air. One hand flies high for balance while the other grabs the board, and I spin my body once and then a half turn before I hit the ground, feet landing on the board. I made it.

  My skateboard rides forward, and that familiar rush of pure joy floods over me. I let the momentum pull me up the other side of the wall and exit the bowl. There’s the sound of guys cheering, and I look back, confirming it’s for me. A small crowd has gathered around, and they’re calling out as I skate away. Ignoring the skateboarding pros and their audience on the half pipe, I ride out of the skatepark and down the sidewalk.

  There’s only a small twinge of disappointment to the day. As I kick off my shoes and walk onto the beach to find Lucy, I wish there’d been some girl skateboarders at the park. But I’ll settle for landing a 540 at Riptide. Hell, that alone will get me through my entire first week of classes.

  Chapter Two

  Jordan

  “You really aren’t going to go out with us?” Lucy asks for the third time.

  “Lucy, it’s already nine. I want to get up early to hit the skatepark before the crowds.”

  She groans as she pulls off the fourth outfit she’s tried on. “I never should have suggested that. I don’t even know if it’s safe to go that early without anyone else around.”

  “Surfers will be around too,” I repeat what she told me. “Look, if I’m not going to meet any girl skateboarders by going when it’s crowded, I’d rather just have the park all to myself.”

  Lucy’s standing in her bra and underwear when she faces me, hands on hips. “What’s wrong with making friends with guy skateboarders? I love skater boys.”

  There’s a knock on the door, and someone opens it a crack. “You there, Lucy Goosy?” a female voice calls out.

  I raise my eyebrows at Lucy. “Lucy Goosy?”

  “Yes Zora, get in here, I need help picking an outfit.”

  A girl our age with hot pink hair, one side shaved, opens the door and takes a step inside. She turns to me and puts a hand out. “I’m Zora, Lucy’s best friend. You must be Jordan Slattery. We’re going to be friends too, since Lucy is already somewhat obsessed with you. It’s the honeymoon phase. I get it. I’m not jealous or anything. But you should know, she’s been my bestie since the third grade.”

  “Oh my God, Zora, stop embarrassing me.” Lucy launches forward, pulling our hands apart mid-shake. “She’s a little possessive, but don’t worry, she’s harmless.”

  “Um,” I try to respond, but I don’t know what to say.

  Zora pats me on the shoulder. “What do you like to drink? Let’s start with that.”

  She slides a backpack off her shoulder and I hear bottles clinking inside.

  “Not yet, Zora,” Lucy protests. “I need help picking out an outfit.”

  Zora rubs her hands together and nearly jumps up and down. “Oh, my favorite.” She turns to me. “I love dressing Lucy Goosy.”

  “Zora, you said you’d stop calling me that in college.”

  She lets out a little huff. “Did I? Well, I lied. You’ll always be my Lucy Goosy.”

  Lucy shakes her head and mutters under her breath. “Your devotion to me is suffocating sometimes.”

  I let out a little gasp, not wanting to be in the middle of a best-friend fight. The two of them turn to look at me, and laugh at my expression.

  “Maybe she needs that drink after all,” Zora says.

  “No, I’m good,” I reassure them. “I just need to get used to Lucy’s sarcasm. I think.”

  “Oh no, honey,” Zora says, shaking her head. “That wasn’t sarcasm. My devotion is suffocating at times.”

  Lucy nods, still standing there in her underwear. “It’s the bickering like an old married couple thing you’ll have to get used to.”

  Zora waves a hand in Lucy’s direction. “Right. And with that, can you put some clothes on? You know your inability to match panties and bras is a major pet peeve of mine.”

  Oh boy, I can’t imagine what Zora would think of my underwear situation. With the exception of one strapless bra, the rest of my collection is sports bras and mismatched cotton boy shorts. I sit down on my bed and watch as Zora sorts through Lucy’s clothes and puts together outfits. At first, I wonder if she’s messing with us because the selections make no sense. She switches around the same tops and bottoms Lucy tried on earlier but pairs them in a way I would never think to do myself. Once Lucy actually has the clothes on though, Zora adds accessories and shoes, and the ensembles totally work.

  “That’s the winner, don’t you think, Jordan?” Zora asks without taking her eyes off Lucy. Before I can respond she circles her index finger. “Spin.” Lucy twirls around. “Again. Slowly.”

  Lucy rolls her eyes as she follows directions and the second time she goes around in a circle, she winks at me. “I’m getting dizzy. Jordan, give us the verdict.”

  “Me? I have no authority on the subject of fashion.”

  Zora’s head snaps my way and she narrows her eyes. “Absolutely false. You’re up next and we’ll be discussing your style at that time. Verdict please.”

  She puts a hand out, palm facing upward.

  Lucy’s got on a colorful top with a back that’s crisscrossed with various ties. It shows a sliver of tummy when she moves a certain way. If it were me wearing something like that I’d go with jeans or something plain and boring on the bottom, but instead she’s wearing a flowy skirt that stops mid-calf and is just as colorful, only with different patterns and tones than the top. Honestly the whole thing should look ridiculous but instead it screams sexy, fun, casual, cool.

  I finally go with, “It’s very Lucy.” There’s a pause, with Zora beginning to smile and Lucy’s brow furrowing, so I go on to add, “Only Lucy can look good in this outfit. No offense, but I would look ridiculous, like I’d lost my mind or was trying way too hard. And Zora, well,” I start to say, then wish I could take it back. “Let’s just say this look wouldn’t work for you either.”

  Zora’s the one rolling her eyes now. “Duh. Lucy’s bohemian chic with a touch of California surfer girl.” Zora points to herself. “I’m slightly more versatile, but my go-to is sporty punk rocker, which isn’t really a thing yet, but whatever. I sometimes dabble in artsy or exotic to keep from getting stuck on a label.”

  There’s a tap on the door before it swings wide open and a black girl bursts inside, throwing her arms in the air. “I’m here bitches, the party can start!”

  Lucy and Zora exchange a look. “Hmm… looks like someone already started drinking, did she?” Zora asks, darting her eyes to the newcomer. She’s wearing a dress that looks like it came straight from the 1950s and a bob with curly hair to match.

  “Can you blame me?” She throws a hand on her hip as she juts it out to one side. Then her gaze turns to me. A huge smile overtakes her face. “Hiiiiiiiii! You must be Jordan. I’m Eleanor! These two call me Ellie but I’m trying out Eleanor for college. So far I don’t really like it so you can just pick which name you’d rather use.”

  My heart is beating wildly again in my chest but I do my best to sound chill. “Hi, Ellie.”

  Ellie beams at me before turning back to Lucy and Zora. She admires Lucy’s outfit. “Nice. Very Lucy.”

  Zora snickers at this comment and Lucy smirks. “That’s what Jordan said too.”

  I put my hands out, palms up, in a gesture meant to say, “Well? It’s true.”

  With her first task done, Zora turns back to the bottles in her backpack, mixing drinks in small plastic cups. When Lucy informs her I’m not going out, she hands me a drink anyway.

  “Should we do a toast?” Lucy asks when we’ve all got a plastic cup in hand.

  “To college!” Ellie declares, raising her cup.

  I start to raise my cup too
but Zora puts out her hand. “No, nope. That’s a lame toast. We need something better.”

  “How about to friendship?” Lucy suggests.

  Zora tilts her head to one side and then the other, mulling it over. “To friendships old and new.”

  “I’ll drink to that,” Ellie agrees, raising her cup.

  “You’ll drink to anything,” Zora replies.

  I slide to the edge of my bed to cheers with the girls, but I only take the tiniest of sips. Ellie chugs her entire cup in one go and I offer her mine. “I’m not going out tonight,” I explain.

  “What? Noooooo, you have to,” Ellie whines, even as she takes the cup out of my hand.

  I shake my head, a little perplexed why they want me around so much. Why they’re including me. They’re so cool while I’m undeniably awkward. Lucy’s next words bring me back to earth. “It’s just, we’ve been best friends forever, the three of us. There’s a fourth, Sydney, but she went to college in New York. Anyway, we vowed to try to make new friends even though we’re all at the same college.”

  This is good news, because it means my head can stop spinning. Things make more sense now.

  “I’m not saying I don’t want to be your friend, Lucy,” I tell her, and then turn to the other girls who’ve taken over Lucy’s bed. “Or yours. I just don’t really drink and I need to crash early tonight.”

  “Because you want to hit the skatepark early tomorrow morning, right?” Lucy asks softly, like it’s a secret.