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“Ka pai. That’s more like it. Okay, so now pretend we’re out in the waves. You’ve seen a good one coming. You’ve started paddling. Next thing is to get upright.”
“That seems like the hard part.”
“It is, but less so than you might think. There are two ways you can get onto your feet. The first, which is best if you’ve got good balance, is to jump straight from a lying position to a squatting position, like this.” She lay flat, then brought her palms up under her shoulders and with one fluid movement, leapt to her feet, her knees bent. “When you’re standing, you want your feet to be parallel to the rails, which is what we call the sides of the board. Try to keep a low center of gravity, arms stretched towards the nose, and head aligned with your front shoulder.” She jumped to the sand and nodded to him. “Your turn.”
He tried to mimic her actions. It was harder than it looked. Bringing his palms to the correct place, he pushed up, but then wobbled precariously as he tried to position his body as she’d instructed.
“Am I doing this right?” he asked. “It feels awkward.”
“Can I touch you?”
He nodded, swallowing hard as her competent hands landed on him and she adjusted his stance. It was one of the first times she’d touched him without it being a mere brush of their bodies in passing, and he wanted to close his eyes and drink in the sensation.
“You don’t want to lean forward or you’ll take a dive off the nose,” she warned.
“Am I going to hurt myself doing this?” With all the precautions she kept mentioning, it seemed inevitable.
“Nah, probably not. If you fall, the water cushions your landing.”
“Okay.” He wasn’t sure he believed her. “What’s the second way to get upright, because I doubt I’ll pull the jump off.” He’d probably end up somersaulting head-over-heels through the waves.
“Option two,” she said, lying down again. “You push to your knees, bring your right foot level with your right hand, on the inside of your arm, then stand up.”
Option two looked more awkward than the first, but also more doable. He copied her movements.
“That’s right. Do it again.”
Reluctantly, he did. And again, and again, and again, until she was satisfied.
“I think you’re ready to try for real,” she said with a grin, and started toward the water, leaving her surfboard behind.
“Aren’t you forgetting something?” he called, pointing to it.
She waved a hand dismissively. “I’ll come back for it once you’ve got the knack.”
She was going to supervise him? What if he was terrible? What if he humiliated himself in front of her?
“Don’t look so worried.” She laughed. “You’ll be just fine.”
He ducked his head, afraid he was blushing because of how easily she’d been able to read him, and jogged into the shallow surf. The water was cool against his skin—refreshingly so—but despite the early hour of the day, it was warm enough that he didn’t flinch. Kat waded in up to her thighs, then turned and walked backward so she could see him. He made sure to lift the end of the board—the nose—above the waves, as she’d instructed.
“All right, this is far enough,” she said, when they were in water up to his waist. It was a little higher on her, soaking her tank top up to the bottom of her breasts. Why hadn’t she changed into a swimsuit? He hadn’t thought to ask until now, when he could clearly see the outline of her bra through the fabric.
“Turn the board around,” she said. He did. “See that wave?” She pointed to a faint crest forming a hundred yards away. “We’re going to aim for that one. Jump on the board and start paddling. I’ll give you a push to get you going.”
Jumping on the board wasn’t as easy as she made it sound. He gripped the sides and awkwardly belly-flopped onto it, cringing when his balls smacked the hard surface. There had to be a way to do it that didn’t involve flattening his testicles. He’d just opened his mouth to ask when, without warning, she shoved the board forward. He started paddling and tried unsuccessfully to look back over his shoulder and see where the wave was.
All of a sudden, like someone had attached a jet pack to him, he was motoring across the water, speeding toward land. Glancing down, he realized he’d caught the wave. This was how it felt to be carried to shore by the power of the sea. Unreal.
He came onto his knees, dragged his right foot up and placed it inside his right arm, then he was tumbling forward, hitting the water with a splash, bumping his hip and rolling to a stop. He surfaced, spluttering.
“Nice work!” Kat yelled.
Was she mocking him? He mopped the water from his eyes and blinked in her direction. She seemed sincere. But he’d failed. Fallen on his ass. How could that be considered “nice work”?
“Pick yourself up and get back out here,” she called.
He did. Over and over, until, on his fifteenth or twentieth attempt, he finally got to his feet and rode a wave. The feeling was incredible. He flew over the surface of the water like he was weightless, divorced from the usual problems that dragged him down. Like nothing existed except him, the water, the board beneath his feet, and the endless stretch of sand he was hurtling toward. Adrenaline danced in his veins, and the hairs on his arms prickled. What a rush. A crazy, surreal rush.
He wanted to laugh. He wanted to leap into the air and somersault.
When he reached the shallows, he jumped off the board and jogged onto the sand, dropping onto his bum. His eyes watered and his nose was running but he’d never been more exhilarated in his life.
Why had he never done this with Eli? How had he lived for more than thirty years without discovering what it was like to walk on water?
Kat whooped, and he looked at her across the waves. She was grinning wildly, like she was as thrilled by his success as he was. A sudden pang squeezed his heart. Was this what it felt like to have a romantic partner? He’d often wondered what he was missing out on, and for the first time, he had an inkling.
She gave him a thumbs-up. She was soaked, her hair plastered to the side of her face and her eyes red-rimmed. Appreciation for her welled within him. She’d taught him something about himself. He liked to surf. What else could he learn from her? And more importantly, when could he find out if she was as playful and passionate in all aspects of her life?
