CHAPTER 3 #2
She stepped away, giving him privacy, and busied herself with arranging boards on the rack. The van was parked close enough to the beach that the sound of waves covered most noises, but not all of them. She heard a muttered curse. The van wobbled.
“You still alive in there?” she called.
“Barely.”
She laughed and went back to the open door.
He had the wetsuit halfway on, the material bunched around his waist. His legs were in, the neoprene stretched tight over his thighs, but the top half hung loose around his hips.
He was shirtless. Her heart did something she hadn’t felt in a long time—a quick, involuntary flutter, like a bird suddenly taking flight.
It wasn’t every day she saw a body like that.
He might not be into sports, but his physique was something else.
Long, strong legs. A broad chest with just enough definition to suggest he did something physical, even if it wasn’t lifting weights.
And his arms—how did someone get biceps like that from typing and coding?
Because that’s what he looked like, somehow.
A tech guy who’d grown up doing real work.
He caught her looking and his ears went red again. She composed herself fast, schooling her face into something professional.
“Here.” She stepped closer and crouched beside him where he sat on the van’s floor. The space was narrow. Her shoulder brushed his knee. She grabbed the material near his ankle and gave it a firm tug upward. “You have to work it up a little at a time. If you rush it, it just bunches.”
He stiffened. Not much, but enough that she felt it—the slight tension in his leg, the way his breath caught. The air between them changed. It got charged, the way the air gets before a storm, heavy and electric.
Katrina felt warmth spread through her body, starting in her chest and moving downward. She tried to control it. She pretended to be completely nonchalant, focused solely on the wetsuit, on the technical problem at hand.
But deep down, she was burning.
Shit. Why?
It wasn’t like she hadn’t been close to guys before. She had male students every day. Some of them were handsome. Some were nice. Many had made passes at her, subtle or not-so-subtle. She’d turned them down or laughed them off or, once in a while, shared a fun night that never became anything more.
None of them had made her feel like this. This immediate, visceral reaction. This warmth. This want.
What the hell had gotten into her?
He broke the tension with a joke. His voice was slightly strained. “You do this a lot?” he asked.
“The wetsuit rescue?” She played along, grateful for the out. “Couple times a day.”
She helped him work the material up his legs, over his hips, across his stomach. She tried not to look at his stomach. She failed. Then she stood and turned away while he pulled the sleeves on and zipped up the back.
When she turned back, he was standing, fully suited, and somehow even more handsome than before. The wetsuit fit him well—snug across the shoulders, tapered at the waist. He looked like someone who belonged on a surfboard, even though he’d never been on one.
She stepped back and looked him over. Couldn’t help herself.
“You’ve got a decent build. You sure you don’t sneak in gym time when no one’s looking?”
It was a joke. It was supposed to be a joke. But there was a throb behind it, a pulse of something she hadn’t invited and didn’t want.
He chuckled. “Me? Gym rat? Not even close.”
“Could’ve fooled me,” she said, not taking him seriously.
She grabbed a board from the rack and handed it to him. Her fingers brushed his, and she felt that spark again—static from the dry air, probably, but it jolted her nonetheless.
“Let’s go,” she said, and started toward the water.
He followed. She could hear his footsteps on the sand behind her, the slight awkwardness of someone walking in a wetsuit for the first time.
This offering a free lesson might be a mistake.
She didn’t want to fall in love with a tourist. She didn’t want to watch him drive away in a week or two, back to wherever he came from, taking whatever this was with him.
She didn’t want her heart broken the way Marina’s had been broken—slowly, quietly, in a way that turned a vibrant person into a ghost.
But she kept walking toward the water anyway, because that’s what she did. She moved forward. She didn’t stop. And right now, with the sun high and the waves small and a handsome stranger following her into the surf, moving forward felt like the only option she had.
Minutes later, Katrina stood next to Ryan on the sandy beach, where he struggled to keep his balance on a foam surfboard that looked almost too big for him. “Put your hands here and here,” she instructed, stepping in quickly to position his arms.
“Now, just watch me.” With a smooth motion, she dropped onto the board and sprang up, her feet landing with precision.
“Nice,” Ryan complimented.
“Usually, I’d start with paddling, but I want to hook you first,” she explained. “We’ll get to paddling later. For now, let’s work on getting you upright.”
“One step at a time?” he asked, trying to wrap his head around it.
“Exactly,” she affirmed, stepping back and pointing at the board. “Your turn. Just don’t overthink it.”
Ryan nodded, determination clear on his face as he attempted to copy her. Almost instantly, he stumbled, nearly falling face-first into the sand.
Katrina couldn’t hold her laugh. “Alright,” she said, “that was... quite eager.”
“Was it that bad?” he asked, brushing sand off his knees with embarrassment.
“It’s fixable,” she replied, moving closer to adjust his stance, gently shifting his back foot into place. “Wider. And take your time. Let your body flow with it.”
He tried again. And again. None of his attempts looked particularly graceful, but he listened intently and never complained. Most beginners would have gotten frustrated, but Ryan just laughed at himself and kept pushing forward.
“You’re overthinking it,” she pointed out after another failed attempt.
“That’s pretty much my specialty,” he admitted with a wry smile.
“Yeah, I can tell,” she said, fighting a laugh. “Just stop aiming for perfection. Focus on getting it moving.”
On his fifth attempt, he finally managed it. Not flawless, but enough. Ryan pushed himself up, planted his feet in roughly the right spots, and held the position for a brief moment.
“There you go!” Katrina cheered. His face lit up, and a warmth spread through her unexpectedly. It wasn’t rare to see a beginner having fun, so why did this feel different?
“Ready to hit the water?” she asked.
He hesitated for a moment before nodding. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”
The water sent a jolt through him as they stepped in. “You’ll acclimate,” Katrina promised, her tone light. “Eventually.”
“That doesn’t sound too reassuring,” he shot back.
“You’ll be alright,” she said, holding the board steady as he climbed on. “Just find your center. Don’t resist it.”
The board wobbled beneath him, and Ryan instinctively tightened his muscles.
“Loosen up,” she urged. “If you tense up, you’ll go down quicker.”
“That’s reassuring,” he replied with a hint of sarcasm.
“Just trying to set realistic expectations.”
Katrina led him a bit farther into the water, where it lapped just above her knees. The waves were gentle—ideal for those just starting out.
“Let’s take it slow,” she said. “No need to show off today.”
“That works for me,” he replied, eyes fixed on a small wave approaching. “Tune into it first,” Katrina instructed. “Take your time.” As the water lifted the board beneath him, she called out, “Now!”
Ryan pushed himself up. For a fleeting moment, he found his balance, but then the board tilted, sending him crashing into the water.
Katrina burst into laughter, and moments later, Ryan resurfaced, pushing wet hair out of his eyes. To her surprise, he was laughing too—genuinely, with a carefree spirit.
“Got it?” she called out.
“Yeah, I think I do now.” His smile sent a flutter through her chest.
As they strolled back to shore, Ryan appeared lighter than when she first spoke to him. They made their way to the van together.
Moments later, Ryan pulled off the borrowed wetsuit and handed it back to her. “I’ll be back tomorrow,” he said. The certainty in his voice surprised her.
“Oh really?” she replied, intrigued. “My first lesson wraps up around ten.”
“Then I’ll see you at ten,” he said, smiling
She smiled back.
As he walked up the trail toward the cliffs, she realized she was watching him go. Get him hooked, she reminded herself. Not the other way around. It’s about surfing lessons. That’s all this is. But even she wasn’t fully convinced.