Strictly Summer Romance (ON HOLD)

Chapter Sixteen, Admissions

"You suck!"

"Shut up!" I defend myself as Alex continues to laugh.

We've been out on the water for an hour now, and I still haven't found my footing. Surfing is a practiced art form, and I am no longer a practiced artist it seems.

"You're timing's off. You're too late on the jump," he says for the fifth time.

"You've said that," I reply grumpily.

"Well, maybe you should listen!"

I huff.

He takes this as his right away to be instructor Alex.

"You're waiting 'till it's on top of you. You've got to pop up right before. Stay ahead of it." I look at him with a less than bemused expression.

I used to surf a lot when I was younger. Not just when we were here but back home too. I'm not exactly sure when I'd stopped, I just had one day I guess.

"I know how to surf, Alex."

"Yeah, sure looks like it," he says amused.

I huff again.

"Look," he says gentler and paddles over to me, "You're just thinking too much. Stop thinking. Just feel it." He takes my hands and turns my palms upwards massaging his thumbs against them. I try to hold down the heat rising within me at the small action. "Feel the water building beneath you. Let your instincts take over. You can do it." He drops my hands, and I do my best to not feel disappointed at that.

"See that one," he points to a smaller wave rolling towards us. "Go get it!"

I sigh once more but paddle out anyways. I wish I could say that I didn't crash with the wave's fold, or that it didn't happen four times after that.

But alas, with less than a fraction of dignity left in me, I successfully ride into shore. Alex wraps me in a bear hug as he paddles in.

"I told you!" He says as he sets a still-giddy-me down. "You wanna go again?"

As good as it felt to finally do that, my body is exhausted. "I think I better quit while I'm ahead for the day." I'm not sure falling fifty times to one counts as being ahead, but I'll just pretend.

He nods and unzips the top of his wet suit peeling it slowly down to his waist.

Is it torture week, or?

"You actually did a lot better than I expected," he says as he plops down onto the wet sand.

I give a bewildered look and laugh as I sit beside him. "How low exactly were your expectations?"

He smiles at me. "On a scale of one to ten? A two." I shove his shoulder but giggle with him. "No, but really," he starts, "You're technique is really good! I figured you'd have forgotten it all, it's just your-"

"Timing," I finish for him with an eye roll. "Yeah, you've said that."

He smiles at my expense and leans back on his hands. We sit in silence, basking in the sun's warmth. It hasn't been over the horizon for more than an hour. Alex made sure to wake us bright and early. In his words it was so, "I wouldn't embarrass myself in front of anybody."

Which, as it turns out, I'm kind of grateful for, but he'll never know that.

"I've missed this," he's the first to break the peace.

"What? The beach?"

"No. Well, yeah. But, this," he gestures out, "The peace. The atmosphere." I look at his profile, his lips pull upwards into a small smile. "This place just makes the world feel smaller, you know? Like our problems aren't really problems. I remember that the most about the summer's here."