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"You studying psychology?"

"Just Psych 101 in college. I'm sure you've never experienced this, but… when you spend a lot of time sitting out dances, watching everyone else, you get to be pretty good at reading people."

"It's your turn."

"It is." She stares at the sparkling blue ocean. The sun breaks through a cloud. Casts light over the azure water, the beige sand, the white and red lifeguard stand. "Alex was pretty good. Neither one of us was all that experienced when we started. We learned together. He made an effort. But we both got complacent. Fell into a routine. I guess you could say the passion died."

"How long did that take?"

"Six months or so."

Fuck, that's an eternit

y. "How long were you together?"

"Three years."

"Why'd he leave?"

She shakes her head. "It's my turn."

"Shoot."

"No." She shifts onto her knees. "I think it's time to hit the water."

"I won't forget it's your turn."

"I know."

Chapter Eleven

Dean

I drop the rental surfboard next to Chloe. "You know how to do a pop-up?"

She pushes herself to her feet. "Yeah."

"Show me."

"Is this a challenge?"

No. It's safety. So she doesn't fall off the board and break her neck. But that isn't the way to push her. "Show me."

"You don't believe me?"

"Just show me."

"Fine." Irritation flares in her expression. It fades to that fire in her dark eyes.

She steps onto the board. Drops to her stomach. "This is barely smaller than your surfboard."

She's right, but, I can't say I'm disappointed. Being board-free leaves us with a lot of options for what we do after this. "You want to prove you can do it or you want to sass me?"

"Sass you."

"Then carry on."

"You can't make me surf."

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