Page 6 of Out in the Surf

I regained some semblance of sanity as the lifeguard slowed the boat near the pier. I pushed away, wiping my mouth on the back of my hand, but Cal didn’t move at all. He looked like a marble statue, frozen in a state of shock.

He blinked wildly as he slowly came around. “Uh…”

“Hey, Cal, I can’t get any closer. You’re gonna have to jump and grab the board,” the lifeguard shouted from the front of the boat.

“Got it.” Cal spared me a dazed sideways glance before diving over the side.

I watched him disappear, then gazed toward the beach, squinting against the sunlight sprinkling the ocean like glitter. A rogue bout of nausea hit me when the waves lurched under the small craft.Fuck. This was destined to be a long, uncomfortable ride.

The lifeguard adjusted his cap as he twisted to give me a thumbs-up. I returned the gesture and let out a low sigh of relief. At least no one else had witnessed my moment of madness. I hoped. The boat rolled again. And again.

Somewhere in the constant rise and fall, Cal retrieved my renegade surfboard and hopped on. He spoke to the lifeguard. A few random words traveled my way, but the rest was a series of hand gestures and laughter. Just when I thought he’d let me off the hook and ignore me till we reached the drop-off point, Cal flopped onto the bench beside me.

The boat rose, then fell, rose and fell.

“I, uh…sorry about…that,” I stammered.

“Don’t be. Hey, you—are you okay?”

I licked my dry lips, wishing I could hide behind a pair of sunglasses. “Not really. Why isn’t the boat moving?”

“We’ll be on our way in a sec.” Cal’s handsome features blurred as another wave tossed us sideways. Cal didn’t seem to notice. He scratched his ear and cleared his throat. “Hey, um…about that, um…kiss. I—”

I lifted my hand like a stop sign, shook my head in the universal, “Hold that thought” motion before promptly barfing over the side of the boat.

Yep. I yacked, ralphed, vomited…in front of the guy I’d just kissed.

The same guy who’d saved my ass from floating out to sea. It really didn’t get much worse, did it?

I hardly remembered the boat ride. I was just grateful it was short and that Zoe was there to take over all adulting matters. She handled the board return, retrieved our belongings, and hovered nearby, chatting with Cal while I peeled off my wetsuit and redressed. He never mentioned the kiss—thank God—but he did tell her I had an upset stomach.

I must have looked like shit too, ’cause she bypassed the coffee shop on Main Street and drove straight to campus, entertaining me with mindless conversation until she dropped me off at my apartment complex.

“Take a shower and make yourself a piece of toast. You’ll feel better within the hour. We can talk about it later. Call me.”

“Zoe?”

She cocked her head and smiled gently. “Yeah?”

“Thank you for everything. You’re an awesome friend, but…I don’t want to talk about today. Ever.” I gathered my belongings and got out of her car, pausing with my hand on the roof to add, “And for the record, I’m never going surfing again.”

2

Cal

The marine layer ghosted over the horizon and cloaked the coastline with a misty, ethereal glow. I loved mornings like this when the beach was quiet and the crisp air hinted that summer was in its final countdown. I would have preferred a decent swell, though. This two-to-three-foot nonsense was only good for training.

I rode the baby wave in and practically stepped off my board as if I were exiting an escalator. Nice and smooth. Then I shook water from my hair, picked up my backpack, and trudged through the sand toward the boardwalk. My mind was buzzing with a list of to-dos. Jay had scheduled me for three lessons. The first one was at eight, which left me just enough time to make breakfast.

And yeah, I’d checked the names of my newbie pupils. Luca Rossiter wasn’t one of them.

I wasn’t surprised, but I was disappointed…and I had no idea why.

Three weeks had passed since that very odd lesson. The writing was on the wall. Luca’s first time surfing had been a complete disaster from the start.

It was easy to peg him for a typical jock who was used to being naturally good at anything he tried. He’d mentioned that surfing might be a nice hobby for him, so I’d bet he was a little bummed that his friend had taken to it quicker than he had. And that was before the rip current and the wipeout.

I got it. Facing an uphill learning curve was daunting.