Page 23

He makes it look so easy.

When I’ve seen him out in the water surfing, Leo paddles gracefully with the swell of the wave, pushes his chest up with his hands and pops up onto his feet, hovering steadily on his board as he glides forwards. The whole process is one fluid motion. It can’t take that long to master, right?

Wrong.

I’ve been practising how to ‘pop up’ on a surfboard for almost half the lesson and I still don’t feel like I’ve got the hang of it. We haven’t even got close to the water yet.

‘That was good,’ Leo says, as I step off the board after my latest attempt. ‘You’re getting it. Remember to look forwards, not down at the board.’

‘There are too many things to think about,’ I groan, throwing my hands up in exasperation.

‘I’m trying to remember to only push up with my shoulders and chest and that my thighs remain in contact with the board.

Then I have to think about bringing my front foot forward, letting my body twist, making sure my feet are the right width apart, keeping my knees bent low, and having my arms out to balance.

And, of course, making sure my eyes are looking forwards.

’ I pause for breath. ‘I need to write this all down.’

Leo hits me with yet another of his amused smiles. I’ve had to endure a barrage of them during our lesson.

‘I know it seems like an overload of information, but that’s always going to be how it goes when you’re mastering a new technique,’ he says with a shrug. ‘When you get it, you won’t have to think about it. All of that happens naturally.’

‘I have a photographic memory so I really work best with bullet-point instructions.’

‘I’m not letting you take notes, London.’

I put my hands on my hips stubbornly, but he remains unfazed.

Despite the challenges of the lesson and the fear of what’s to come, I maintain that this is a good idea.

Already, I’ve got a fresh angle of his character for the piece: Leo, the surf teacher.

And it’s a good one. He’s patient, encouraging, funny.

He knows what he’s doing – he’s comfortable and relaxed in this role, so self-assured and dedicated.

There’s something very sexy about him taking control of this lesson.

I probably won’t put that last bit in the feature, though.

His passion for surfing is obvious through the infectious enthusiasm of his teaching style.

He wants his student to be good, but only so that they’ll be safe in the water and have the right technique and ability to enjoy the sport more.

He hasn’t made me feel stupid even though I do feel stupid.

I felt stupid the moment I pulled on the wetsuit over my yellow halterneck bikini, like I was completely out of place. Which I am.

‘All the gear and no idea,’ I muttered when I stepped out from behind his truck in the wetsuit he loaned me. ‘Can you help zip it up all the way at the back?’

After he complied, I turned round, ready for him to take one look at me in this get-up and laugh at me for looking so… unlike me. But he didn’t laugh. He was looking at me in such a captivating way, it made me smile shyly.

‘Sorry you had to wait so long for me to get into this thing,’ I said, forcing a laugh as I tried to break the tension.

He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing.

‘Don’t worry,’ he said, a warm glint in his eyes. ‘It’s easier to take off.’

I blinked at him, stunned. What was I supposed to say to that ?

His words were so fucking suggestive , but I wasn’t sure if he’d done that on purpose, so I stood there, shocked into silence until he jerked his head in the direction of the beach and went, ‘Shall we?’ as though he hadn’t just caused goosebumps to cover every inch of my skin.

I knew then that this scenario was probably not going to be healthy for the ever-so-tiny crush I seem to be developing for Leo Silva.

A private lesson on a near-empty beach with him demonstrating how to go from lying on a surfboard to standing on one was almost certainly a recipe for disaster.

Popping up on a surfboard is essentially a glorified press up.

‘Watch the positioning of my hands and my arms,’ he had instructed at one point as his hands pressed flat on the deck of his board before the muscles in his arms flexed as he extended them, pushing his upper body from the board.

He was telling me to watch him. I had no choice. Not just once either, I had to observe him perform this art over and over and over…

My mouth was so dry, I had to lick my lips when he wasn’t looking.

‘You want to try again?’ Leo asks now, as I stare at the surfboard in front of me, willing myself to be magically good at it. ‘I know it might not feel like it, but you’re getting better every time.’

‘I’m exhausted.’

‘Nah, you’re fine,’ he says with an easy grin. ‘I’ve seen you practise yoga. You’ve got what it takes to pop up on a board. Come on, give it a crack. Get back down there.’

I swear it takes all my will power not to say, Make me with a seductive smile.

Argh, this is wrong. This is so wrong.

I want to flirt with him. And he is very much off limits .

If anything happened, I’d be really crossing a line – not only is he the subject of my interview, he’s also the son of the media corporation’s owner, a very powerful woman who has put her trust in me to treat this task with the upmost professionalism.

Desperately trying to shake this attraction out of my head, I reluctantly do as he says and get back to concentrating on his teaching: what I’ve been struggling to do all lesson.

After a few more tries, he says the words I’ve been dreading. ‘Okay, good news, London: you’re officially ready to get in the water,’ he says, applauding my recent pop up.

I shake my head. ‘I… I think I need to practise some more.’

‘Yeah, but this time, you’re going to practise in the water. We need to work on your paddling and you’re building up muscle memory so that—’

‘I’ve already forgotten everything you’ve said about the position of my feet,’ I stammer, tripping over my words as I blurt them out, the blood pounding in my ears at the thought of the ocean beckoning to me beyond. ‘We need to run through it again.’

‘Hey, trust me, you’re good,’ he says, moving in the direction of the water. ‘Natural to be nervous, but you’ll be fine. Come on, let’s get in there.’

As I bend down to pick up my board, I feel my legs turn to jelly.

Willing myself forwards, I start to follow him down the sand.

He’s glancing back at me over his shoulder with an encouraging smile, waving me towards him.

The rail of the board dragging through the sand behind me, I edge nearer and nearer to the water, my heart pounding so hard against my chest, I think it might burst right through.

I’ve tried to get myself in the water since the Cornwall incident happened.

I’m not the sort of person who tends to just give up on things or make a fuss, and there have been times when it’s been almost unavoidable to be near the sea.

Like when I was in Mallorca with a group of friends and we went to a bar that was perched on the rocks.

The idea was that after lunch, we’d all stroll down to the beach next to it and go for a swim.

No one knew about what had happened in Cornwall a few years back and I didn’t want to bum anyone out by talking about it, so I went along with the plan.

Until I couldn’t. As in, I physically couldn’t.

As my friends all waded out into the water, I froze at the edge of it and then my breathing grew fast and short.

I felt sick with dizziness and thought I might collapse until I felt Naomi’s arms propping me up, helping me move away and then duck into a crouching position where I stayed until I had the strength to beg her to get me off the beach before I embarrassed myself completely.

Falling apart in public is not my vibe. We went up to the bar to wait for everyone there.

I told her what had happened in Cornwall and why I had that physical reaction to the water.

When the others came back, she told them that she thought I may have eaten something funny at lunch.

I know my fear is irrational, but against all sense and all logic, it seems to be able to get the better of me. Like right now.

The sand beneath my feet is feeling damper and heavier as I get closer to the water lapping onto the beach.

It’s a good day for a beginner to surf, Leo said earlier, because the waves are slow and gentle, but the sound of them breaking roars in my ears.

My mouth is dry, my breath is rapid and shaky, my throat is closing. The surfboard is slipping from my grip.

‘Hey.’

Leo’s voice cuts through the panic growing in my head; his fingers brushing against my arm make me jump. The board drops, slamming on the sand.

‘You all right?’ he asks, bending down to pick it up for me. ‘Are you worried about wiping out?’

‘S-sorry?’ I stammer.

‘Falling is part of it,’ he says with an easy smile. ‘We’re not going to do anything crazy, okay? No need to look so worried. It’s your first lesson; we’re here to have fun.’

I shake my head. ‘I can’t do this,’ I whisper.

‘Iris,’ he says gently, his eyebrows pinched together. ‘It’s—’

‘No, you don’t understand… I actually can’t do this ,’ I tell him, shutting my eyes, my heart being squeezed by the panic making my chest tight. ‘I’m scared of the ocean, Leo.’

I’m not sure what I expect him to say to that. Maybe laugh at me. Say that it’s a stupid fear. I don’t know. But I’m not expecting what he does say, which is, ‘Me too.’

My eyelids flutter open in surprise. He’s watching me, deadly serious.

‘Y-you are? How is that possible?’

‘Because it’s the ocean ,’ he emphasises, his expression softening. ‘It’s powerful and unpredictable. It’s natural to be afraid.’

‘How can you possibly surf like you do with that fear?’ I croak.