Chapter 18 #2
He looks down at the board still clutched in his white-knuckled grip and then out to the waves. There’s a decent breeze this morning, but the waves aren’t too big. It’s the perfect day to learn how to surf, if you ask me.
Ethan sets the board down and tries to climb on top, but his weight is too far to one side and he ends up rolling straight into the water. He comes up spluttering and cursing, his eyes wide with shock.
“Refreshing, right?” I say.
The look of pure exasperation he shoots my way is my breaking point. I burst out laughing, and when he joins in, it might be my favorite sound in the world.
The second time he attempts to get on the board, he manages to lie down in the center without capsizing.
I swim next to him as he paddles out like a pro, his strong arms slicing through the water like he was made for this.
When we’re in the right spot, I plant my feet in the soft sand, take hold of his board, and tell him to try standing.
He makes it to a squat before doing an impressive belly smacker that I’m pretty sure they can hear all the way in town.
It must have something to do with his center of gravity, maybe? I have never seen anyone less coordinated. After ten goes, he gives up, saying it can’t be done. I tell him to unhook the strap and watch.
Technically, the board is too long for me, but that doesn’t matter.
Once I climb on top of it, the board and I melt into one.
The muscles in my arms and back stretch out as I paddle to where the waves curl over themselves.
There aren’t any large swells, but I catch a decent wave and pop to my feet, adjusting my weight to steer the board along the wave until I can go no further.
I leap back into the water and tuck the board beneath my arm, jogging over to where Ethan has plonked himself down on the sand. “See, not impossible,” I say. I fall down beside him, a little out of breath from the run. “Don’t you want to try again?”
He drapes his arms over his knees, eyeing the board with disdain. “And feel worse after you made it look so easy? No, thank you.”
“It’s only easy because I’ve been doing it for so long.” Shortest lesson ever. At least he tried. When I knock his shoulder with mine, he barely budges. “Did you have fun, though?”
He side-eyes me; the ends of his hair are already starting to dry and curl against his forehead. “I’ve had worse mornings.”
I’d call that a win. If he were anyone else, I’d let him bring the board back on his own so I could spend another hour out on the water. But right now, sitting on this beach beside him sounds even better. “Truth or dare?”
His lips twitch in an almost-smile. “I’m not drunk enough to play with you this morning.”
“Oh, go on.”
He sighs up at the sky. “Dare.”
I clutch my non-existent pearls, sounding properly scandalized when I say, “Who are you and what have you done with my cautious neighbor? For all you know, I could dare you to run across the beach naked.”
“You could.”
Now, that would be a glorious morning. “I dare you to try getting up on the board three more times.”
Although his head drops, he pushes to his feet without protest and offers me his hand. He still doesn’t make it all the way upright, but he does almost get there before his arms cartwheel and he falls backwards into the water.
At least he doesn’t seem as annoyed with himself when he wades back to the shore.
If I play my cards right, maybe I can convince him to come back next Sunday.
I know he still has a lot of work to do on his parents’ house, and I don’t want to downplay the importance of that—I just want him to stay sane and have a little fun while doing it.
I grab my board, and together we make our way back across the dunes, the seagulls squawking from high above, riding the ocean breeze.
“You’re welcome to throw that into my dumpster if you want,” he says out of the blue.
I glance around to figure out what Ethan’s talking about. He’s staring at my surfboard that was destroyed in the storm.
Is he nuts? “I can’t throw my baby away.”
His brow furrows as he sets the rented surfboard against my bannister and kneels down beside the broken one to examine the crack. “Can it be fixed?”
“No, but I have plans for her.”
He looks up expectantly, and all of a sudden, those plans seem really silly. When I don’t immediately tell him, Ethan asks straight out what I mean.
“I want to build something,” I confess.
“Build what? A dump?”
“No, smartass. A pergola for an outdoor seating area at Mugs. My friend Boone has a bunch of boards that can’t be used anymore, so I thought they’d make a cool sort of roof.”
Ethan stands, his lips pressing flat as he tugs on the leg of his wetsuit. “That sounds… interesting.”
Well, hot damn. That’s as good as a glowing compliment coming from this guy. He says no more, still yanking on his leg. “You okay?” I ask.
“I don’t know how it’s possible because it’s so fucking tight, but I think I got sand in this damn thing.”
“Yeah, sand in the suit chafes like a bitch.” I set my board down and fling the door to my outdoor shower open, giving the knob a quick twist. “That’s what this is for,” I say, nodding toward the steady stream of water spurting from the rainfall showerhead.
Ethan’s gaze drops to my mouth. “I have my own shower,” he says quietly, even though he stays rooted to the sandy grass.
“Yeah, but it’s all the way over there, and mine is right here…
” I step backward into the steam collecting inside the shower’s wooden walls.
When I turn and ask him to unzip me, I can feel Ethan’s gaze follow the zipper all the way down to the small of my back.
I peel the suit off my arms before turning around.
His eyes fall to the seashell where it rests against my cleavage.
He offers a stiff-lip scowl, and from the way his wetsuit offers nothing to the imagination, I have a pretty good view of something else that’s turning stiff, too.
When he makes no move to join me, I reach behind my head to unhook the clasp and accidentally end up tugging the string on my bikini as well. Whoopsie. The yellow tie tumbles down my chest, but the wet material remains stuck to my skin.
“I’ve been thinking about last night,” I say. “About how fun it would be to finish what we started.”
Instead of the smile I was aiming for, Ethan winces and turns away, looking like he’s in pain. “I told you… this can’t happen.”
He probably should’ve thought of that before he rocked my world last night with nothing but his mouth. “Then why did you kiss me?”
“I was drunk.”
Something flinches in my chest. “Oh, really?”
“Yes.” He sighs. “Last night was a mistake.”
Whatever words he’s saying, I know that’s a load of bull. It wasn’t a mistake. It was phenomenal. Mind-blowing. Earth-shattering.
But hey, if he wants to stand here and deny it, then who am I to stop him?
Why would I want to pursue someone who doesn’t want to pursue me back?
“If you’re going home, you’ll need this,” I say. When I slip his cold key off my chain and press it into his hand, it takes him a second to close his fingers around it. As I turn and step into the shower, I don’t lock the door, just in case he comes to his senses and decides to join me.
Disappointment sits like a rock on my chest when the door stays closed.
Last night was a mistake.
Maybe I’m wrong and he really did mean it.
What’s worse, maybe he actually believes it.
As I peel out of my wetsuit and the neoprene drops to the wet planks under my feet, I make a silent promise to stop trying to coax Ethan into choosing me over whatever else he’s got going on.
It’s starting to make me feel kinda foolish, if I’m being honest.
Plus, he’ll be gone soon anyway. It’s not like he’s my grand gift from the ferry gods. So what’s the point?