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Lily Rodin thinks I’m cute.The thrumming in my blood escalates again.
The surfboard floats on the surface of the water next to me as we walk out until we’re covered to the hip. The small waves make it difficult to steady the board, but she eventually climbs onto it, laying on her stomach.
“C’mon, grumpy, spread those legs.”
She turns to look back at me, and her hair swats me in the face. “Wait, what? I thought you were going to be in the front or something.”
“I’ll lie right between your thighs and paddle us deeper into the water. Once we catch a wave, I’ll stand first and pull you up. One solid wave, and we’re done.”
“This seems like a ploy to stare at my ass,” she yells over the crash of waves, but does as she’s told.
I hoist my body up, planting my chest on her thighs and my bottom half on the rest of the board. “Since when is that a bad thing?”
“It’s not.”
“Good.” I sink my teeth into the plump softness of her left butt cheek.
“Hey.” Lily tries to wiggle out of my grasp. “What the hell?”
My hands pull her toward me. “Making sure you taste good enough for the sharks.”
“There are sharks?” Her shaky voice travels back to me with the sea breeze.
“I’ll keep you safe, don’t worry.”
“What are you going to do against a shark attack?”
“Show them that right hook of yours.” I catch the formation of a wave coming our way and turn the nose of the board to the shoreline. “Come on, Lil. When I say now, you’re going to follow me into a standing position.”
The swell of water approaches. I paddle forward, riding the wave, until I hop up.
“Now,” I shout, but she doesn’t move. “Stand up.”
“I’m good down here!”
“You can do this, be brave.” My hands scoop beneath her arms, tugging her up. “Now!”
She drags her legs beneath her and tucks her knees to her chest like we practiced on the shore for the past hour. There’s enough momentum for her to pull into a brief crouch. When she tries to stand, the back of her head collides with my balls. A sharp pain spears up through my stomach and into the base of my throat. The scream erupting through me is enough to summon Poseidon’s rage. I wipe out and sink under the water.
I wash up near the sand, yanking on leash to grab the board. I pluck myself out of the water and collapse onto the beach.
“Are you okay?” Lily shouts from the coast.
“Fine,” I lie, trying to catch my breath. I could put an end to this ridiculous situation, but something inside me wants to see her succeed outside of her comfort zone. “Let’s go again, we can do it.”
“I’m trying, I promise. I almost stood up.”
“I know you did, pretty girl. Come on.”
She follows me into the water, and we wade our way into the ocean. For the next half hour, we follow the same routine: we paddle, I stand, Lily almost stands, we restart. My muscles scream at me to tell her the whole thing was a terrible joke, but there’s finally an easy wave coming at us.
One more.
I hop to my feet. “Now, Lily. One, two, three. Just trust me.”
To my surprise, Lily hikes herself up and stands. Any of her previous tentativeness has been washed away with the tide.
“We’re surfing!” She lets out one of the most joyous screams I’ve ever heard, and a mixture of shock and laughter pours out of her.
