“I had no idea this one was white,” she says with a laugh.
“It probably should’ve been done a long time ago. But now, it’s time to apply the new wax.”
“What does it do exactly?”
“It helps your feet stick to the board. Otherwise, it’s slippery as fuck. It’s why you have to scrape off the old and put on new because it loses its tackiness.”
“Wow, I had no idea,” she admits. “That’s interesting.”
I love that she’s asking questions and seems intrigued by the process. There haven’t been a lot of women in my life who ever cared to try. Having someone to surf with on a regular basis would be cool, and I’m hoping she wants to continue learning after today.
“So you’re gonna do crisscross lines like this with the wax. Then go back over it in the opposite direction. You’ll go up and down it two to three times to make a grid.” I hand her the bar after I’ve done the first pass. Our fingers brush against one another’s, and I feel the electricity streaming between us. I’m pretty sure she feels it too, but neither of us mentions it.
When she’s done, I show her how to do the circular motions next. “You might use this entire bar. If you do, there are several more in the drawer over there. You’ll want a solid base coat so don’t be afraid to use it all.”
“Like this?” she asks.
“Exactly,” I encourage, going back to mine and making quick work of it.
Randomly, I’ll glance at her and smile. She returns the gesture. Every once in a while, I’ll sneak a peek and watch her, but she’s so focused she doesn’t notice.
When Tatum’s completed the task, I look over her work, pleased. “Wow, you’re going to have a solid grip. You did an awesome job.”
“Really?” Her voice goes up an octave like she’s shocked.
“Yeah, seriously. I think you did better than me. Guess it’s time to hit those waves.”
She swallows hard, and I place my hand on her shoulder. “Trust me.”
“I do,” she repeats, just as she did the day before.
“Actually, I’m gonna leave my board here for a while. I already checked the current and surf so we should be good to go. The sun should be rising any minute, which means we should get a nice show on the horizon.”
She grins. “I can’t wait. I think the sunrises are the best part of this place. I look forward to them each day.”
“Yeah, it’s a paradise. That view is why my parents purchased the place all those years ago. It wasn’t this nice, but it was ours, and I have a lot of good memories of coming here as a kid.”
“I envy you.”
I shoot her a grin. “You’re welcome to visit anytime you want after we leave. Seriously.”
We head toward the beach, and when our feet hit the sand, I breathe in the fresh air as the sun peeks over the horizon. I hold the board, allowing Tatum to take it all in. She stands close, and I’m tempted to take her hand in mine.
“It’s beautiful,” she whispers as the sky fills with bursts of orange and purple. Fluffy clouds float in the distance as the colors transition from pink to blue.
“Ready?” I ask.
“I guess!”
In the sand, I draw a replica of the board she’ll be using. She looks at me like I’m crazy.
“I thought we were going into the water?” Her confused expression makes me laugh.
“Not yet. We’re going to practice the basics here first. Hope you’re ready to get dirty.”
“I look forward to it,” she snaps back in a seductive tone that has my cock throbbing.
Once I have the shape in the sand, I draw a line straight down the middle and go through the different areas of the board. I point out the nose and tail—the front and back—so we can use the correct terminology.
“This is the stringer.” I point at the line that goes straight down the middle. When you get to the point of popping up, you’ll want your nondominant foot in the middle of it. Your dominant goes behind you.”
Tatum gives me a puzzled look like I just asked her to solve a calculus problem.
“Which foot do you naturally kick a soccer ball with?” I ask.
Taking a second, she thinks about it. “My right.”
“That one goes behind you because you’ll have the most control of the board with it.”
I draw myself the same shape, then plop down on my stomach on top of it. She follows my lead.
“Can you swim? I just realized I never asked.”
“No,” she tells me, and my smile falls.
“Tatum, I didn’t reali—”
“I’m kidding.” She bursts into laughter. “The look on your face was priceless, though. Of course I can swim. It’s just that the ocean is intimidating because I’ve only gone ankle deep. I swam in tons of pools as a kid, but considering where I grew up, we didn’t have anything like this.”