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The wave suddenly changes and causes Sloane to lose her balance and prematurely fall off the board. The wave crashes down on top of her with a lot of force. I know it’s not enough to keep her down for long. I know the wave wasn’t that bad. But, still, I can’t help but throw off my shirt, jump into the water, and swim out to her to ensure that she makes it out of the water. To air. To safety.
I swim as fast and as hard as I can to reach her. I try to calm my beating heart and nerves that are shooting through my body. I don’t understand the feeling. I don’t understand why I care so much if she is alive or dead. In pain or not. She is nothing to me.
Still, I swim hard, not thinking about why my heart is beating hard in my chest. Or why I care if something happens to her. I dive under the water, swimming faster until I see her body right in front of me. I grab hold of her and look up to see the wave has stopped pounding down on top of us. And then I kick hard over and over until we reach the top.
We each take a breath of air at the same time when our heads hit the surface. Sloane flips her head back to get her hair out of her face, and she scowls at me. Her eyes look unforgiving, a deep V has formed between her eyes, and her mouth turns down into more than a frown.
“What are you doing?”
“Saving you. You went down and didn’t come back up for air for quite a while. I wanted to make sure you didn’t die.”
She shakes her head as she wades in the water and rests her arms on her surfboard. “I don’t need saving or rescuing. I have surfed before even if I am a bit rusty.”
“I know.”
“Then, why are you here?”
“Because I can’t help but be near you.”
“I thought you weren’t going to hit on me today.”
“I’m not. I’m just telling you the truth since you are so insistent on asking a million questions, needing to know everything.”
She doesn’t say anything else, but I can tell she is deep in thought again, no longer here with me.
“Swim back out, and go again,” I say.
She turns to do just that. At least, now, she is listening to me instead of questioning. She pauses though after swimming a foot or so and faces me.
“What are you going to do?”
“Join you.”
“How? You don’t have your surfboard.”
I grin. “Sure I do.”
I start swimming out while she paddles on her surfboard. When she stops, I swim up behind her, guiding her toward the front of the surfboard while I climb on behind her. Neither of us says anything, and I have honestly never surfed with someone else on the same board before. But it can’t be that hard. She’s more than capable on a surfboard, and I’ll figure out the rest, no problem.
We wait through the first wave, agreeing it’s not the right one without having to say anything to each other.
When the next wave comes, I say, “Start paddling.”
We both do.
“Stand up,” I say after a few seconds of paddling.
Sloane does, and I do a second later. Then, we are both up on the board at the same time. I take a step forward and place my hands on her hips as I begin maneuvering the board through the wave. She moves with me as I move us as one. It feels different, maneuvering while having to think about someone else on the board. I can’t just do what I want. I have to ensure that she wants to go the same way as me. I have to think about her, too.
I want to show her what a surfboard can really do though, so I grip her hips harder and begin moving us higher onto the wave. She doesn’t question me. She goes with me. We surf until the wave takes us close to shore. We step off at the same time, both speechless.
Our eyes lock after such an intimate moment together. I don’t know what I see in her eyes. I’m used to being able to read people, but I can’t read her. She doesn’t give anything away with her eyes. I just know what I hope I’m seeing there. I hope it’s the same thing that I’m feeling.
I reach my hand up to her cheek. “I want to kiss you,” I say.
I wait for her to slap me. A slap always follows when I say something so bold. I brace for it. But it never comes. Instead, she leans in closer to me, like she is considering it. Like she is desperate for it. I feel her warm breath against my lips. I have to ball my hands into fists to keep from closing in the last few inches and kissing her.
I won’t kiss her though. If she cheats on Wes, it has to be her choice. That’s the only way to steal her heart, to ensure she’s mine, and then I’ll toss her aside when I’m through with her. She has to be the one who does the betrayal.
