Page 42 of The Surfer

And then I’m tipping over.

Oh, no.

I fall off the side of the board.

And then I’m in the water.

I tumble around the inside of the wave. Water rushes up my nose and I can’t breathe.

And then I’m standing again. The wave has gone. The surfboard, its rope still tied to my foot, is bobbling next to me. I’m near the shoreline, in the shallows.

I cough and splutter. It does seem like half the ocean is caught up in my nose and mouth, just like Cove said it would be. I gag, swallowing large chunks of the saltwater.

I don’t even notice Cove swimming up gracefully beside me until he’s standing over me, laughing his head off.

Oh, he’s finding this hilarious.

“What’s so funny?” I ask through hiccups of ocean water.

Cove can’t contain his laughter. “You. You’re funny, Ripley.”

“I nearly drowned, Cove.”

He shakes his head. “No, you didn’t.”

“Did too. And if I did, you’ll be charged as an accessory to murder.”

“I can think of worse reasons to be locked away for,” Cove says, still laughing. I can really punch his stupid gorgeous face now. “You’ll do better with practice.”

I raise my eyebrows at him. “Well, at least we have every day for six months to practice,” I tell him. He stops laughing then. “Unless I do drown then you’re in this for the long haul, Cove Finn. Six more months.”

Oh, I do find a lot of pleasure in watching his face drop as he contemplates six more months of this.

And then it’s me who is the one laughing.