Surfs Up For Love – by ey Kassian #3
She shifted, and he leaned closer, uncapping a marker and drawing a fine line on the board. “This will help with your positioning. Keep your nose above the line, okay?”
She nodded, glancing at him briefly, catching those radiant blue eyes. The way his brow furrowed in concentration made her heart skip, but she looked away, willing herself to focus.
Jaxon positioned his board next to hers and stretched out on it. She liked him this close and wanted him closer.
“Now, don’t watch me. Center your body on the board and keep your feet on it.”
Bree dipped her toe in the sand, hesitating. She balanced herself and glanced at him. “Like this?”
“Perfect. Now comes the tricky part—popping up.” In one swift, fluid motion, Jaxon demonstrated, springing to his feet in a way that seemed effortless. Goodness, he was delicious.
“When the wave comes, bring your chest up, plant your left foot, then the right, and hold the rails while standing. Ready to try?”
“The rails?” Bree echoed, her brow furrowing in confusion. She wasn’t sure what he meant, but she mimicked his movements, her arms quivering as she pushed up and moved one leg forward, then the other. She wobbled, fell back, and stared at him helplessly.
He chuckled, the sound rich and warm. “Not bad for your first try.”
They practiced repeatedly. Bree’s arms ached from pushing herself up, but Jaxon’s encouragement kept her going.
After successfully maintaining the pop-up position, she reclined onto her back on the sand, perspiring, wiping the moisture from her forehead, gazing upward at the sky and breathing heavily.
Jaxon reclined to his side on his surfboard, his head resting against his hand, looking at her with an expression she couldn’t read. His lips hinted at a smile, but his eyes shimmered with approval.
Her pulse quickened. Was he still invested in the lessons—or had his attention shifted entirely, onto her?
“I feel like swimming,” she said, breaking the silence.
Jaxon’s gaze flickered, and for a moment, a shadow darkened his eyes. It vanished as quickly as it had come. “Blistering hot today,” he said, his face transforming into a warm smile. “Let’s ride.”
Bree dismissed her interest in Jaxon as ocean water lapped against her legs. She followed him into the shallows, fighting the chill, and gripping her bright orange board tightly.
“Can you get on?” he asked.
“We’ll see.”
Jaxon steadied the board as Bree climbed on. When she wobbled, he touched her. If she hadn’t been in the frigid depths of the Pacific Ocean, she would have flushed with heat. Despite the contact, she lay flat.
“Good. Just stay like that,” he said, his voice steady and reassuring. “Feel the motion.”
Gentle waves rolled beneath her, compelling Bree to relax.
“Okay,” Jaxon said after a few passes. “Let’s catch a small one. I’ll guide you into it. Just lie down and enjoy the ride.”
He timed the board with an incoming swell, pushing her gently forward. The wave lifted her, gliding her toward the shore. Bree released a surprised laugh, feeling the thrill of the waves. Why hadn’t she done this before? It was fun.
“Not bad, right?” Jaxon called as he waded to her.
She looked at him, smiling. “It’s amazing!”
“Good. Let’s see if it’s possible to stand.”
They worked through the process, Jaxon offering steady encouragement as Bree attempted to pop up on the moving board. She toppled into the water more times than she could count, but each time she surfaced, Jaxon supported her with a grin.
Finally, she relaxed on the surfboard, letting the waves carry her, feeling the peace while watching Jaxon wade toward her. He was soaked, his hair a flaxen mess, saltwater dripping down his face, but his happiness shone through and matched her own.
“You’ve got this,” he said, his voice a steadying force.
“I’m terrible.”
“Not at all,” he said, placing his hands on his hips.
She swore he was checking her out—from her beach-blonde hair to the bright paisley patterns of her bikini and all the way to her toes.
Maybe he was inspecting her technique, ensuring she had the right approach.
Why else would he look at her like that?
Finally, on what felt like her hundredth attempt, Bree rose to her feet and stayed upright, swaying as the wave carried her forward. Her triumphant laugh echoed across the water before she dove off the board.
Jaxon waded toward her. “You’re a natural.”
Bree beamed, water dripping from her hair. “I held the rails until my feet planted. It wasn’t perfect, but wow—the motion was incredible.”
“I respect people who don’t give up,” he said, “but we’ve been here a long time. How about ice cream?”
“Who’s buying?” Bree asked boldly.
“This time, it’s on me. My student earned it.”
“Agreed,” Bree replied, feeling encouraged as they made their way through the water to the shore.
Jaxon rolled in bed all night, unable to shake off thoughts of Bree.
Her sparkling brown eyes, her unstoppable grin, and a paisley bikini that revealed enough skin to drive him crazy.
The day before, he’d learned she was an artist, a jewelry designer.
She might as well have been a starlet on a sunlit stage, the way she sparkled on her orange board—her tumbles only adding to the charm—set his heart ablaze.
She was different, and her Bohemian rhapsody made him restless. But she hadn’t only caught his attention—she tugged at a part of him he’d locked away for months, the part that used to love riding the waves.
By six a.m., he couldn’t stand it anymore. He grabbed his phone and fired off a text: Get ready. I’ll be there in 30 minutes.
Twenty-five minutes later, the throaty rumble of his red ’62 Chevy Impala—his pride and joy—echoed on Bree’s quiet street. She stepped outside, a bright orange surfboard in hand, and a sleepy but excited smile lighting her face.
“Nice ride, surfer boy,” she said, sliding onto the passenger seat.
Jaxon grinned, drumming his fingers on the wheel. “It’s not just a ride. It’s a way of life.”
Her eyes sparkled with mischief. “Sure about that? It looks like the car gets polished more than it gets driven.”
“Hey,” he shot back with mock offense, “this car’s a classic. It needs a good coat of wax.” The Impala roared to life as they headed to the beach, the energy between them buzzing as brightly as the morning sun.
When they hit the water, Bree rode the waves better than the day before, not encountering as many falls. Jaxon watched her from the shore, admiring her spirit and resolve. Each time she caught a wave, she grinned as if the whole ocean belonged to her.
It awakened his past in a promising way, reminding him of the bliss. For the first time in months, he wondered if it were possible to chase that rush.
The next morning, Jaxon jolted awake when his phone buzzed on the nightstand. Bree’s message lit the screen: Catch a wave?
He grinned, tossed the covers aside, and pulled on his board shorts without even thinking about breakfast.
The Impala’s engine roared as he parked near her place. Bree bounded out the door, her surfboard tucked under one arm, her energy contagious.
As they drove toward the beach, the wind tousled her hair, and her laughter filled the car. “You’re lucky I was awake when you texted,” he teased.
“You’re lucky I didn’t surf without my instructor,” she said, her eyes sparkling. “I’m starting to enjoy this.”
“Me too.” Jaxon glanced at her, his voice softening. “I like the company.”
“Does that come as a surprise? Initially, the instructor role didn’t thrill you.”
“Yeah, but that was before,” he admitted, feeling his love for the ocean, and surfing, returning.
“Before what?” Bree asked.
“Before I met a beach babe.” Her face blossomed into the sweetest smile he’d ever seen.
By the time they hit the water, he wanted more than to coach from the shore. He watched Bree catch the waves, rising more than falling. And her sense of adventure roused his adventurous spirit. For the first time in months, he wanted to climb on a board and surf alongside her.
The fourth morning, Jaxon didn’t wait for the sun to rise before texting her: Do it again?
She replied promptly: Pick me up, surfer boy.
The text worried him, gutting his conscience. Bree was unaware of his true identity. He’d surfed the highest waves in the world, but was he her surfer boy?
Jaxon stared at the message for a moment longer, his thumb hovering over the keyboard. He wanted to tell her, to let her in, but when would the timing be right? Would the truth change everything?
He preferred their relationship to remain unaffected by his public persona. What if, once she learned the truth, the spark between them dimmed? What if she only noticed his public persona and failed to recognize the man he wanted to be with her?
When the Impala parked near her apartment, Bree was waiting. Barefoot, her surfboard propped against her hip. In a T-shirt and board shorts, she looked every bit the quintessential surfer girl.
He missed the paisley bikini, but her confident attitude drew him in even more. Reaching over, he opened the door, hoping she’d not only climb into his car, but deeper into his life.
“If I fall today, I’m blaming you,” she said, sliding onto the passenger seat.
“You won’t fall,” he replied, shooting her a sideways grin.
They settled into an easy rhythm, their banter as natural as the lessons.
Jaxon teased her endlessly about her wobbly pop-ups, while Bree fired back, critiquing his exaggerated paddling techniques.
But when she successfully navigated her first clean ride, carving through the shallow wave like a natural, Jaxon jumped, waving and cheering as if she’d just won a championship.
He couldn’t help wondering, why am I punishing myself? Accidents happen. Wasn’t he a professional surfer? Maybe the time had come to return to the ocean.