Burglars.The thought is laughable.We haven’t had a burglary on this street since, well, ever.
I drag down my zipper and motion for the keys.“Give them here.”
His gaze darts to the seashell necklace I’m still wearing.What can I say?I’m sentimental like that.I reach behind my neck to unhook the clasp and add his keys to the chain.Now I zippity-zip my wetsuit back up and boom.Problem solved.“There.Happy now?”
A flush washes over his cheeks, and he clears his throat a bunch of times before responding.“What if it falls off in the water?”
This guy is all doom and gloom.That has to get exhausting.I turn and start for the stairs, gripping the smooth railing on my way down.“Then I guess we’ll have to break a window and open the door that way.I assume you know how to replace glass?”I throw over my shoulder with a grin.
Ethan doesn’t look very impressed, but he thankfully lets the issue drop there.
“Where’d you get this stuff?”he asks, lifting the seafoam-green board from the sandy grass and tucking it under his arm like he’s done this his entire life.He might be uncomfortable in the wetsuit, but he sure as heck looks the part.Even the way the crisp breeze tousles his unkempt hair is perfect.
“From the rental shop down by Grandma’s Crabs.”
“How much did it cost?”
“Please.I don’t pay for anything there.”The same way Boone never pays for the vanilla latte he gets every morning.
“Why is that?”
“Because the guy who owns it went to school with us.”Plus, he’s had a crush on me since the eighth grade.
The dunes give way to gritty sand, and the steady crash of waves soothes what remains of my hangover.I go over a few general rules about safety in the water, talk briefly about riptides, and Ethan listens intently to every word, nodding and asking intelligent questions.I’m not surprised he’s taking this seriously—he seems to take everything seriously—but I appreciate it all the same.
When I explain that all he has to do is paddle out for now, he looks relieved.
That is, until he steps into the foamy waves.“Fuck!It’s too cold.”He shirks back to the shell-strewn sand.
Too cold?I’d love to see him out here in January.
Leaving my board on the shore, I wade to my waist and dive headfirst beneath a wave.The slap of the cold water steals my breath, but when I come back up, it’s like the world is sharper, the aquamarine water bluer.The streaked sky above the sunrise appears even more vibrant.
I push back the bits of hair that have escaped my ponytail and give Ethan a smile where he’s standing calf-deep, frowning at the water.“The longer you take to get in, the harder it’s going to be.”I bet he walks into pools too.Weirdo.
Mumbling, he fastens the surfboard’s velcro strap around his ankle and takes another step, puffing out harsh breaths like a steam train until he reaches my side.
The waves crest a good bit out, but they’re still pretty strong when they crash into us.I turn sideways so I don’t get bowled over, but Ethan is like a brick wall, the waves slamming against him, spraying his face.
“What now?”he asks, swiping a hand to clear the droplets on his cheeks.
“Now, you paddle out there, and I’ll hold the board for you while you try to stand up.”
He looks down at the board still clutched in his white-knuckled grip and then out to the waves.There’s a decent breeze this morning, but the waves aren’t too big.It’s the perfect day to learn how to surf, if you ask me.
Ethan sets the board down and tries to climb on top, but his weight is too far to one side and he ends up rolling straight into the water.He comes up spluttering and cursing, his eyes wide with shock.
“Refreshing, right?”I say.
The look of pure exasperation he shoots my way is my breaking point.I burst out laughing, and when he joins in, it might be my favorite sound in the world.
The second time he attempts to get on the board, he manages to lie down in the center without capsizing.I swim next to him as he paddles out like a pro, his strong arms slicing through the water like he was made for this.When we’re in the right spot, I plant my feet in the soft sand, take hold of his board, and tell him to try standing.
He makes it to a squat before doing an impressive belly smacker that I’m pretty sure they can hear all the way in town.
It must have something to do with his center of gravity, maybe?I have never seen anyone less coordinated.After ten goes, he gives up, saying it can’t be done.I tell him to unhook the strap and watch.
Technically, the board is too long for me, but that doesn’t matter.Once I climb on top of it, the board and I melt into one.The muscles in my arms and back stretch out as I paddle to where the waves curl over themselves.There aren’t any large swells, but I catch a decent wave and pop to my feet, adjusting my weight to steer the board along the wave until I can go no further.
