44. Summer
Summer
Noah’s hacking up a lung beside me. His Millennium Falcon T-shirt is soaked through with sweat. My own breathing is steady, my legs still asking for more.
“Want to slow down?” I ask.
Instead, he flips me off. I smile. We slow to a jog.
The surf school comes into view. The sun’s still low, the light pale, almost silver on the water. The beach is quiet. Two figures are already there: Jace and Harper, their boards resting in the sand. Harper, crouched down, adjusts her leash. Jace zips up his wetsuit.
When we reach them, he looks up at me.
“Hey,” I murmur.
“Hey,” he says.
One word each. And we kissed a few hours ago.
Harper and Noah trade a look, one eyebrow raised.
“You two coming out?” Harper asks.
Noah nods with suspicious enthusiasm for a guy who’s still standing by some miracle. I nod too.
We grab two wetsuits from the school’s gear room, and Noah pulls a board off the rack. By the time I get my yellow board from the garage, Harper and Noah have headed for the water without waiting for me. I watch them go, shoulder to shoulder.
Jace picks up his board.
“Coming?”
I nod. We wade into the water.
This morning, the swell is steady. The waves come one by one, not too high, not breaking too fast. Forgiving waves.
We paddle without talking. The water’s cool on my wrists and ankles. The neoprene warms against my skin.
Ahead of us, Harper and Noah are already settled in the lineup.
Harper’s explaining something to Noah. She touches his shoulder to fix his posture, then his arm, then grabs his wrists to reposition his hands on the board. He lets her, like it’s all he’s been waiting for.
Harper gives Noah’s board a sharp shove. He wobbles, catches himself, and they both laugh.
“Harper’s not exactly subtle…” I say.
Jace follows my gaze. He barely smiles.
“I’m glad for Noah.”
We float side by side, legs in the water, our boards almost touching with the rhythm of the swell.
Jace turns his head toward me. His gaze drops to my shoulders, my arms, my hands.
“Straighten up a little.”
He moves closer. His board brushes mine. One press on my shoulder, and he steadies me.
Then he sets his hand at the small of my back. His palm is broad, warm despite the cold water. His fingers guide my hips.
“There. Like that.”
The swell lifts us, lowers us. The warmth of his fingers bleeds through the neoprene and radiates low in my belly. My breathing goes unsteady.
He takes his hand away. The feeling stays.
We keep drifting, close together. Water laps between our boards. I stare at the horizon, very busy not looking at Jace.
“You always touch your students this much?”
“No. Not all of them. Just the ones who need it.”
I roll my eyes, but the corner of my mouth gives me away.
Two surfers paddle up. Kai, massive on his board, black hair tied low, his tribal tattoo showing above the collar of his wetsuit. Maya, tiny by comparison, paddling like she’s already had three coffees.
“?Oye, lovebirds!” she yells. “You’re blocking the wave!”
I straighten on my board; Jace pulls away at once. Kai tips his chin at us in greeting.
“Jace told us you’re thinking about renting out the house,” he says.
“If that’s still on the table, Kai and I would be up for sharing the place,” Maya chimes in.
“Mom and Avery, too,” Jace adds. “I just talked to them about it on the phone.”
“I haven’t decided anything yet,” I say, a little too sharply.
This is moving too fast. It’s my decision, not theirs.
Jace shakes his head.
“I didn’t call them about that. I called Mom… about my episode last night.”
My gaze catches on the dark circles under his eyes. They were already there earlier. This time, I really see them.
He hasn’t slept.
“My therapist’s going to be thrilled,” he breathes.
Maya brushes his arm. Kai says nothing.
A set starts to build behind us, hollower, faster. Kai and Maya go first, with a few perfect strokes. Harper gives Noah a push. He paddles without any grace… and misses the first wave.
Jace nods at the next one.
“That one’s yours.”
He puts a hand on the tail of my board. I lie down, hands on the rails. The wave comes, and I feel it pass under me, that slow, powerful lift.
Jace pushes at the right moment.
I take two strokes, the wave grabs me, and I’m up.
The balance is there. My feet planted right, my hips open—Jace’s corrections, from earlier, from the other day, from all the summers before. I stop thinking. The wave takes me.
I glide across the water. The world shrinks to the sound under the board and the wind on my face. No student loan. No house to sell. No video. No bet. No kiss outside my bungalow.
The wave crumbles into whitewater and I hop off the board. It tugs at my leash. I laugh. A real laugh, one I can’t control.
I paddle back toward the peak. Harper claps for me. Noah gives a thumbs-up from his board, out of breath, hair plastered to his forehead.
Jace looks at me and smiles—a smile from the summers before, back when nothing had broken between us yet.
Except it did break. And we both know it.
Still, I smile back at him.