Float

Original Edition: Chapter Twenty

The Atlantic Ocean was like a wide grey carpet rolled out in front of me, stretching as far as the eye could see. I walked forward until the sand underneath me stuck to the bottom of my feet and made sloshing sounds with each step I took. From the temperature of the wet sand alone, I knew the ocean was going to be freezing cold. I stopped walking at the edge of the water and lined my toes up with the line of residual foam.

I heard the shrill sound of Jesse's scream, followed by a splash and then Lena's boisterous and slightly maniacal laughter. Maybe if I turned, dropped the surfboard I had tucked under my arm, and sprinted for the parking lot, they wouldn't see me.

A large, warm hand settled on the small of my back.

I glanced up to see Blake standing beside me. He had a smile plastered on his face, but the look in his eyes said don't even think about it. Not to mention, the hand he had on my back kept me from making a break for it.

"Go on," he said, pushing me forward.

I stumbled one step into the water and shrieked as a little wave of ice-cold foam came rushing over my bare feet.

"Nope!" I cried, spinning on my heels and taking a leaping step back towards dry land, "Nope, nope, nope!"

But Blake was faster than I was.

His arm shot out and looped around my stomach, and next thing I knew, he was pulling me along with him. And I was heading—backwards—into the Atlantic Ocean, both my heels and the little rudder at the end of my surfboard dragging in the sand.

"Quit being such a baby," he said, sounding amused.

I opened my mouth to make an admittedly lame comeback about his face being a baby, but a wave of saltwater smacked against the back of my thigh; I could feel the cold through the heavy fabric of my wetsuit, although it was a bit muted.

"Mother of all that is holy!" I wailed.

"I thought you were supposed to like the cold," Blake pointed out, releasing his hold on my middle so he could grab my shoulder and spin me around. We were knee-deep in the ocean.

"It's not the cold I'm bad with," I snapped, "it's the water."

"Which is why," Blake sighed impatiently, "I'm going to be right next to you the entire time. Now put your board down and let's go; Lena's gonna wring our necks if we don't hurry up."

I knew he had a point.

Blake took a few more steps out into the water, until it came up to the middle of his thighs, and set his board down; it floated on the water, bobbing up and down with each wave that rolled by. I watched him sling a leg over the board, so he was straddling it, and then lean forward until he was on his stomach. He looked over his shoulder and frowned at me.

"Are you coming or what?"

I huffed and dropped my surfboard into the water, following his lead. Paddling turned out to be a lot more strenuous when there was actually some form of resistance. Blake, with his massive swimmer's shoulder muscles, had to stop several times and wait for me to catch up as I panted, dragging my arms through the water and wincing every time my fingers brushed up against slimy seaweed.

"You need to work out more," Blake told me.

"I know," I conceded.

"Seriously, no wonder you can't tread water."

"Okay, I get it."

Blake kept his mouth shut for the next minute and a half while we paddled further out into the ocean. I was relieved when he decided to stop paddling and sit up again; my arm muscles were throbbing in protest. I rested my chin on my board and let my sore limbs dangle in the water, trying not to think about how many hundreds of feet below me the ocean floor had to be.