FOUR
Kieran didn’t know what he was doing. That was obvious by the way his hand shook while signing his name on the waiver form.
The online flyer had been explicit.
BEGINNER-FRIENDLY SURF CLINIC
No experience needed! Patient instruction for first-timers. We’ll have you standing up in no time! Bring sunscreen and a sense of humor.
He had sunscreen. But his sense of humor was already eroding.
There were four other people in the class. A tourist couple from Ohio, a teenage girl with a nose ring and zero fear, and a retired man already radiating regret.
It wasn’t about impressing Rory.
At least, that’s what Kieran told himself while standing awkwardly in a loose rash guard and too-long board shorts, holding a borrowed board as if it was a foreign object. He kept pulling his shorts up against the certainty that the ocean was about to take his dignity.
The surf instructor, a sun-bleached twenty-something named Jax, clapped his hands together with the enthusiasm of someone contractually obligated to appear excited.
“Alright, people. Pop-ups. Watch me.” He dropped onto a board and demonstrated once. He was fast, fluid, and completely unhelpful. Then he stood up, brushing sand off his hands. “Easy, right? Okay, try it.”
Kieran stared at his board. That had been one movement. How was he supposed to break that down?
“Any day now,” Jax said, checking his phone.
Kieran dropped onto his stomach and tried to follow along. His first pop-up looked more like a half-sneeze and a crab walk. His second one ended with him falling off the foam board onto the sand.
From somewhere behind him, the teenage girl giggled.
“Okay, yeah, so…don’t do that,” Jax said, not looking up from his phone. “Just pop-up. Like I showed you. Just…pop up.”
Beginner-friendly, my ass. Beginner-tolerated was more accurate.
Jax walked the line, barely glancing at anyone’s form. When the Ohio couple asked a question about hand placement, he sighed audibly.
“It’s intuitive, man. Feel it.”
“But where exactly should—”
“You’re overthinking. Surfing is about flow, not like...instructions.” He was already walking away.
The retired guy raised his hand. “What about paddling techniques?”
“We’ll get to that in the water. Right now, focus on the Pop-Up!” Jax barked.
“But you only showed us once!”
“Because you only need to see it once. It’s muscle memory.” Jax pulled out his phone again, squinting at the screen. “Okay, everyone got it? Cool. Let’s hit the water.”
Kieran glanced at the Ohio couple, who looked as confused as he was.
The teenage girl was already jogging toward the ocean, board under her arm, fearless.
Then a familiar voice cut through the salty air.
“You’re actually doing it.”
Kieran flinched so hard he nearly dropped the board.
Rory stood ten feet away, arms crossed, wetsuit pulled halfway down and tied at the waist, looking like he’d walked out of a surf film.
Kieran’s stomach did a slow backflip. “What…how are you…”
“Surfing?” Rory completed the sentence, utterly unbothered. “Same beach. Different time.”
Kieran narrowed his eyes. “You just happened to show up during my class?”
Rory shrugged. “Didn’t know you were taking a class. I usually surf at this time. Moonlight Beach isn’t that big.”
“Right.”
“Don’t flatter yourself. I didn’t come to watch you flail around.”
“Cool,” Kieran muttered, cheeks already hot. “Then look away when I drown.”
But Rory didn’t leave. He lingered. Arms still crossed, one foot buried in the sand, pretending not to watch.
By the time they made it into the water, Kieran was more soaked from sweat than surf.
The Pacific slapped him like it had a personal vendetta. He paddled wrong, popped up late, and got knocked back so many times he started to think the ocean was homophobic.
But weirdly, he didn’t hate it. The water was cold but cleansing, and every time he came up gasping and laughing, salt in his mouth and sand in his hair, he felt a little less trapped in himself.
Jax paddled past him at one point, evaluating the class with the interest of someone watching paint dry.
“You gotta commit!” he shouted vaguely in Kieran’s direction. “Stop hesitating!”
“I’m not hesitating, I’m…” Kieran tried to explain, but Jax was already paddling toward the teenage girl, who’d easily managed to stand up.
“Yeah! Like that! See, guys? It’s not that hard!”
Jax high-fived the girl, then immediately paddled away to check his Apple Watch.
Patient instruction. Sure.
Halfway through the lesson, while waiting for the next baby wave to form, he caught sight of Rory again, beyond the break, gliding toward him on a real board.
“You okay?” he asked, voice half-concerned, half-mocking.
“I’m fantastic,” Kieran gasped. “Just communing with nature. On my face.”
Rory adjusted his position, facing Kieran. “You are overthinking it. You’re looking down at your feet. Keep your eyes on the beach or you’re gonna keep nose-diving.”
“Oh, good,” Kieran said, sarcasm bubbling up. “You’re about as helpful as the instructor.”
“Rory!” a voice called from deeper in the water.
A woman paddled toward them on a longboard, moving with the easy confidence of someone who’d grown up doing this.
She was striking. Tan, athletic, with sun-streaked hair tied back in a way that looked effortless.
“You coming or what? You said you wanted to catch the next set.”
Rory turned, his body language shifting. He looked lighter, more…open. “Yeah, I’m coming!”
She paddled closer, eyeing Kieran with friendly curiosity. “Oh. Hi.”
“Meg, this is Kieran. My neighbor,” Rory said. “Kieran, Meg. We work together.”
“The neighbor,” Meg said, grinning. “With the dogs who keep trying to tunnel under the fence?”
“That’s them,” Kieran managed.
Meg reached out and playfully shoved Rory’s shoulder. “You didn’t tell me he was going through with the lesson.”
Rory caught her hand briefly before she pulled it back, the gesture easy and familiar. “Didn’t think it was newsworthy.”
“Everything you don’t tell me is newsworthy.” She rolled her eyes affectionately, then looked back at Kieran. “Good luck out here. First day’s always brutal.”
“Thanks,” Kieran said, his voice sounding far away in his own ears.
Meg was already turning, paddling back out. “Rory, seriously—now. We’re gonna miss it.”
“I’m right behind you,” Rory called, already following. He glanced back at Kieran once. Quick, casual. “You got this.”
Then he was gone.
Kieran watched them paddle out together as Meg said something that made Rory laugh, his head tipping back. She splashed him, and he splashed her back, and they moved through the water like two people who’d done this together a hundred times. Who had their own rhythm. Their own language.
Of course he has a girlfriend. Of course she’s gorgeous and capable and makes him laugh like that.
He tried to focus on his board, on the instructor’s distant voice, on anything other than the way Rory’s whole demeanor had changed the second Meg appeared.
Kieran took a stray wave directly to the chest and came up choking.
Of fucking course.