Page 24

MILLIE

Stonefish

“Nervous?”

“A little bit.”

Lies. Fucking lies. I am scared shitless. I’m standing in a brand-new one-piece Ellis insisted I buy for this occasion, but I was too embarrassed with how much it pushed up my breasts, so I threw a rash-vest over the top.

Not only that, but I’m also standing next to a board that’s twice my size and looks heavy as shit.

There are people with eyeballs who could see us or recognise us.

Which is part of the point of this whole facade, but I don’t exactly relish the idea of making a fool of myself in front of anyone, let alone people with phones and cameras.

“Don’t worry,” Noah assures me. “It’s perfect conditions for learning. We’re getting you comfortable in the water. You don’t need to do anything you’re not ready for.”

“Cool.”

I’m anything but cool. I’m pretty sure I urinated in my swimmers. Like, pee has come out because I wasn’t joking when I said I have zero coordination. Plus, I’m scared of stonefish. Fucking stonefish. There’s probably fifty of them out there right now pretending to be rocks and sneering at me?—

I jump as something touches me. Great. Noah’s touching my shoulder and now I’m thinking about how big his hands are.

I haven’t stopped thinking about his hands (amongst other things) for an entire week, ever since we had our never-to-be-spoken of again dry-hump on his couch.

Every night since, I’ve fallen asleep replaying the scenario and getting myself so hot and bothered I’ve had to dig out my vibrator.

“Ready?” Noah asks, bringing me back to the beach.

Why does he have to look so hot? It’s distracting.

He’s wearing black shorts that stick like plastic wrap around his strong thighs, and the muscles from his torso and arms are shining in the sunlight.

The weather has done a complete turnaround now we’re halfway through November.

The sun is almost violent in its brightness, the heat making the sparkling blue waves inviting.

I’d love to dive in, just not on a goddamn surfboard, and preferably away from the gorgeous man in front of me.

“Millie?”

“Huh?”

Noah squints. “I asked if you were ready.”

Nope. Nope.

Not ready, won’t ever be.

Fuck my life.

He narrows his eyes at me as if he can hear my spiralling thoughts. “I know we’re fake-dating, but you don’t have to pretend everything. ”

“I’m going to make a fool of myself,” I snap. “Even if it’s only the basics, I’ll look like an idiot.”

Noah grins. “The best surfer out there is the one having the most fun. Who cares if you look foolish?”

“Says the professional surfer who’s been doing this since he was three.”

“Two.”

I dig my nails into my palms as another wave of nausea rolls through my stomach.

“We’re in the whitewash today,” Noah says. “Nothing else. We’re going to get you comfortable with the board and your body in the shallows.”

“And hope someone snaps some videos of me eating shit to help improve your reputation?” I offer, gritting my teeth.

Noah smirks. “Think of that sweet, sweet cheque I’m going to write for you.”

I exhale a dramatic breath. Yes. That’s right. Remember why you’re doing this. Think of Ellis and Winston and the freedom you’ll have at the end of the summer. You can look like a fool for that.

On the sand, Noah takes me through the motions of surfing, which I would normally find mortifying, but I somehow ignore whoever might be watching, desperately trying to grasp his instructions.

I can take information and apply it well.

I’ve always been able to. Maybe I’ll be able to do it with surfing too.

Over and over, he shows me how to go from my stomach to my knees and to pop up onto my feet as I’m catching the wave, keeping my weight low for balance.

We practice on the board, and I wonder how one is meant to get these steps to work once the safety of the sand stabilising the board is no longer there.

“We don’t need to practice this anyway,” I spit, pushing my hair out of my face. “I’m not standing up.”

“Mmm, yes you are,” Noah argues.

I glower at Noah. “You said we were getting me comfortable with the board today. Strap on the ankle, whitewash. Baby steps, remember?”

“We didn’t come all this way to stand next to a board in the water,” Noah replies. “You’ve got to at least attempt to stand.”

“I’ll look like a baby deer trying to walk for the first time,” I argue, my heart pounding. “If anything, sponsors are going to be given the ick when they see how uncoordinated I am in the water.”

Noah doesn’t seem fazed by my angst. He continues to smile his perfect Hollywood teeth smile, as he starts to lift my surfboard.

“I can’t do this.” The words come out sounding like a desperate admission.

Noah stops and lowers the board, standing in front of me with narrowed eyes. “Is this legit fear or are you being a baby?”

“Legit.”

Noah’s eyes soften. “Is this because of your parents?”

I shake my head. “No. Everyone thinks because they died in the water, I’m afraid of it, but it’s not true.”

“What is it then? Is it from when you fell in, and I pulled you out? It makes sense to be afraid to go back in.”

“I don’t like waves,” I say hurriedly. “I’m good with flat water, but big waves scare me.”

Noah nods. “That’s normal. But we’re not going anywhere near?—”

“I’m scared of stonefish!” I blurt out.

Noah blinks. “Stonefish?”

“Those assholes that disguise themselves on the ocean floor and in rock pools, waiting for schmucks like me to step on them.” Noah looks perplexed as I continue to ramble.

“The day you pulled me out of the water? You screamed at me and as you did, I swear I saw a stonefish and the next minute I’m getting battered by waves.

” I close my eyes, heat scorching my cheeks.

“Since I was nine, I’ve been terrified of stepping on one and dying. ”

I open my eyes to see Noah’s cheeks have inflated, as if he’s fighting back the urge to laugh in my face.

“It’s not funny,” I snap. “Stonefish can kill people.”

“Y-yes, that’s true,” Noah says, his voice shaking. “I think it’s a rational concern to have when entering the ocean. There are a lot of things that could cause pain or injury. Even death.”

I throw my hands up. “Why do people insist on going in it?”

Noah’s face cracks and he lets a laugh out.

“Because the benefits and the beauty outweigh the risks. I’m not going to lie to you.

The ocean is wild and unpredictable and terrifying.

She can make you feel the most alive one day and tear you apart the next.

She’s unforgiving and relentless and peaceful and beautiful.

We’ve always called her a paradox. I can’t guarantee you’ll trust her, but I can try. ”

I’m not sure how long I stand there, staring up into Noah’s swirling green eyes in awe.

I’m not sure I’ve ever heard something so beautiful come out of his mouth before.

Or anyone’s, for that matter. He meets my gaze with another smile and his right hand lifts and pushes my curls out of my face, sending a tingle down my spine.

“Is that a line from a movie?”

Noah grins, tucking more hair behind my ear. “No, but was it that good?”

“It was pretty good.”

Noah’s eyes flash with an unexpected heat as I lean slightly into his large hand, which has stilled on the side of my neck.

“So, you admit it wasn’t my fault you fell in?” Noah rubs his thumb across my skin.

My heart rate accelerates. “Don’t push it.”

His throat bobs as he swallows. “Anytime you want to stop, we stop. Got it?”

I nod. “Got it.”

Noah’s hand lingers for a few seconds before he drops it and lifts my board again. We head to the shallows and all I can think about is how stepping on a stonefish would be more manageable than whatever is happening with my thundering heart.

“Again, Maelstrom!”

“This is pointless!” I splutter, laughing. “I don’t have the right wiring in the brain to get this.”

“You’re so close!”

I’ve come close to standing all the way up on the board so many times I’ve lost count.

It’s like I can taste it, feel it beneath my toes gripping the board, but it’s just out of reach.

The waves out the back of where we’re practicing are roaring and it’s getting a little rougher.

I have no idea how anyone ventures out of this safety area.

“One more time!” I agree.

I wade out towards Noah, who’s helping me line up which tiny waves to paddle in on. He’s standing with his hands on his hips, water glistening on his tan muscles. I’m sure my salivating is from the need for water.

“One more time,” he promises as I reach him. “You’re doing great.”

I beam at his praise, my shoulders rolling back with pride as I set the board up like Noah showed me, hands on either side of it, looking back for the right wave to paddle in with.

“This one.” Noah nods at the small wave. “Paddle! Go! Go!”

I slide my body onto the board with minimal grace and paddle as far as my arms will allow, scooping the water beside me as I hear the wave approach.

Noah’s yelling, but I’m not sure what he says as I tuck my feet up, curling my toes onto the board, shift my weight forward and steadily rise—and I don’t fall.

Seconds pass and I’m still standing on the board, and I scream at the top of my lungs, punching the air with both fists before I topple into the water.

I’m spitting salt water from my mouth as Noah helps me up. “You did it!”

He wraps his arms around my waist and lifts me into the air, cheering with enthusiasm and excitement like I’ve won a championship.

And it feels like I have as I squeeze him back and tilt my head back with laughter.