Page 3 of Out in the Surf

“You’re a land lubber,” he teased. “Loosen those limbs a bit. Go on…shake your arms, maybe roll your head. That’s it.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Of course, you will. I can tell you’re an athlete. What d’ya play?”

“Hockey.”

“Cool. Are you gonna play at Long Beach State?” Cal asked.

He sat astride his board casually, as if he’d pulled up a stool at the bar next to mine. Everything about his posture and carriage screamed competent and in control. I felt my blood pressure go down a few notches just being in his aura.

“Nah, I got banged up pretty hard, tore my Achilles last season, and got another concussion. Even though I’m mostly healed now, transfer rules are strict. It seemed like a good time to hang up my skates.”

I didn’t sound convincing in the slightest, which was strange because I was pretty good at bullshitting around the truth when it came to giving up the one thing I’d loved more than anything in the world. Whatever. Cal didn’t give a shit. He just wanted to make sure I didn’t drown on his watch.

“That sucks,” he replied sincerely.

“Yeah,” I agreed. “But as you can tell, I’m on my way to becoming a world-class surfer, so it’s all good.”

Cal’s hearty chuckle floated in the breeze. He gave Zoe a thumbs-up and gestured for her to steer in our direction. “You can do anything you put your mind to, Luca. Anything at all.”

“Including standing on this board?”

“Absolutely. It might take a few tries, but it’ll happen.” He smiled, but his tone was firm.

And because I was a complete horndog, my dick swelled in my wetsuit. Unbelievable. On the plus side, I was still on my stomach. If Zoe noticed that I was sportin’ wood for our straight instructor, I’d never hear the end of it.

“Hmph.”

“C’mon. I think you’re ready to give it a shot. Let’s paddle out past the breaker and find ourselves a wave.”

“Now? I can’t even kneel without face-planting,” I griped.

“Ride in on your stomach or on your knees if you want,” Cal advised. “You’ve got this.”

Like hell I did.

I cast a longing glance toward the shore with a sigh, but I wasn’t about to go down with a pathetic whimper. It was time to man up, stand up, and ride a fucking wave.

An old Rage Against the Machine song buzzed in my brain as I paddled like mad past the breaker to Cal and Zoe. I studied them as I navigated the current. Their differing stances told a story. Cal sat on his board as if he’d been born on it while Zoe wobbled precariously. She didn’t seem frazzled, though. She seemed revved up and ready to try something new. That was the inspirational push I needed.

Yes, I could do this.

I gingerly lifted my chest, shifting and scooting to the middle of my board, then sitting upright as I joined them.

“Glad you finally decided to show up,” Zoe joked.

I flipped her off, tipping to my right, steadying myself again. “So, what next?”

Cal pointed to a group of surfers nearby. “We’re heading that way. As you can tell, it’s too still here, but the sets are coming in nice and easy. We’re going to get into position close to where the waves are cresting. When I say ‘go,’ paddle on and give it everything you got. The key is to catch the wave before it breaks. Be quick and don’t turn around. Just like in real life, you’ll lose power if you look backward. If you miss your shot, be patient. You’ll get the next one. Got it?”

Zoe nodded enthusiastically. “Got it. Ready to party, right Luca?”

“Yeah,” I grunted, white-knuckling my board.

“Cool. I mentioned this earlier, but it’s super important, so I want to remind you to respect the right of way and stay in your own lane. You don’t want to take anyone else out.” He waited for our acknowledgment, then tilted his chin. “All righty, troops. Follow me.”

Easier said than done.