Page 44 of The Teacher

She makes me nervous in ways I’ve never felt. Even with all the high-powered business meetings and negotiations over millions of dollars, I’ve never felt as nervous as when I do around Sandy Finn. She has a hold over me that’s like no other.

We take the boards and dive into the cold water. We start paddling out, the two of us side-by-side. Sandy laughs all the way, an infectious laugh. A laugh that makes me fancy her even more.

We paddle out far, then sit on the boards together waiting for a suitable wave.

“I’ve heard you’ve got exams coming up?” I ask.

“Yeah, the whole school does,” she replies. “They’re super important. Each class receives an average mark and then we get compared with all the different departments.”

“Are you nervous about it?”

Sandy nods. “Yeah. There are two boys in my class I’m most worried about. James and Tom. They like to fight. Muck up. It’s pretty difficult wasting time making sure they’re not being naughty and try to teach a class of twenty others about Shakespeare.”

“Sounds tough.”

“It is.” We see a pack of waves emerging. Perfect. “Here they come.”

I catch the first wave to come. The board nearly flies out from under my body, but I manage to keep a hold of it. I shoot down the wave. My old teenage self kicks in and I push myself up on the board.

I’m standing.

I bend my knees and balance myself. I’ve got to stay focused. I don’t want to fall off early. I’m too competitive in life and in surfing to allow that to happen. I’m sure Sandy would love me to embarrass myself on the board. She’ll love to rub it in.

I ride the board into shore.

Yes.

I did it. I surfed.

I spin around to catch Sandy smiling at me.

“How’s that for something real,” I say, and Sandy pokes her tongue out at me.

After our surfing session, we head back up to the parking lot and our cars. I strip down so that I’m only wearing my swimmers and I hand Cove’s spare wetsuit over to Sandy.

“Thanks,” she says. We’re standing together by my car. I’m in just my swimmers. My muscular upper body is dripping wet. Sandy’s blonde hair is damp in a sexy beach way. There’s an electricity in the air between us, it’s like we don’t want the other to leave. Like we’re waiting for something. There’s a spark between us.

“No, thank you,” I reply. “For this unusual date. It was something real, after all.”

She takes a step towards me and I take a step towards her.

I lean over her face, her mouth’s already waiting for mine like she’s asking a question. I find her lips and lightly touch them with my own. Her soft, cherry lips open up to me. Her eyes close.

And then we are kissing.

She tastes of the sun and the ocean. I drink her in. Envelope her.

I miss this. I miss her touch. Her taste.

This is what I’ve been craving for all these years.

I feel her defenses slowly melt away until she’s kissing me back. She wants to put up a wall between us but knows it’s not right. She knows what she truly feels, and that’s to kiss me back. And she does.

This is natural. This is what both of us want.

My hands fit around her body and I’m pulling her in under my arms. Our kiss becomes stronger until it’s like we’re clawing at each other’s mouths. We want each other so badly. We’re both wild and out of control. She wants me as much as I want her.

Eight years apart can make you so hungry for the other person.