I glanced out at the sea. The waves looked kind of rowdy to me. So I sat, board at my side, and watched the surf.
“What are we looking for?” I asked after a few moments passed. My bare arms were hot already, the white biceps giving me away as a newbie I was sure.
“Checking out where the waves are breaking, where the other surfers are paddling out, and checking out the skill set of the people out there.”
“Ah.” I scanned the few people on boards. “Are there sharks out there?”
“Yeah.” My eyes flared. “Mostly leopards, but there have been some great whites spotted along the beach from time to time. But those are rare. You can go snorkel with the leopard sharks over at the cove.”
“I’ll pass,” I mumbled, my gaze on the surf as I searched for dorsal fins.
“It’ll be fine. I’ve surfed since I was six and have never been bitten.” I nodded but didn’t relay how little that announcement had eased me. “Okay, so some basic etiquette. Wait.” I glanced his way. He did look damn fine with the sea breeze tugging at his long hair. “You can swim, right?”
“Now is a damn fine time to ask me that.” He gave me a quirky smile and a shrug. “Yes, I can swim. I can also drown so don’t let that happen. I’ve never surfed before…”
“And I’d never been on a horse before, and now I’m a frigging equestrian expert!”
“I’d not go that far. You haven’t even galloped yet.”
“I’m working up to it. The point was that we’re good for each other.” He chuckled and stole a fast kiss. “Now etiquette. Be polite. Most of the natives are kind of territorial. Don’t get in anyone’s way. One person per wave. The surfer who’s closer to where the wave breaks gets that ride. Always hold onto your board. We’ll paddle out to that channel there, see where the waves aren’t breaking? Once we’re there we’ll wait our turn.”
“Anything else?” I enquired with a bit of salt. He prattled off a hundred more things it seemed then made me practice lying on the board and popping up to my feet. After we did that a few dozen times as sunbathers snickered, he deemed us ready to hit the water. After the leashes were firmly attached to our ankles, we ran into the water, the waves pushing back, the salty spray wetting my face. I couldn’t recall the last time I’d been in the ocean. Probably one of the rare trips to the east coast with my folks when I was a young boy. Way before I’d so disappointed them by being queer.
I mimicked what I saw Bishop doing, for the most part. Once we were on the boards and making our way to the line of surfers, my nerves doubled.
“Okay, so basic tips,” he shouted over to me as we paddled away. “When you see the wave you want, turn and face the nose of your board toward shore. Lay down, paddle, and make sure the nose of your board isn’t under the water or too high up. It should graze the water. Keep your eyes forward and use your peripheral vision to gauge where the wave is. If it’s not close yet, peek back and keep paddling. Once you feel that rush of momentum, pop up to your feet. Always look forward once you’re committed. Hesitancy will trash your stability. Eyes forward. Never look down at your feet, the wave, or the board. Knees bent, more weight on your back foot, arms out to the side, and you’re surfing.”
I nodded. He waved and paddled out ahead of me, catching the next wave that rolled in. I sat spellbound on my yellow board, enjoying his ride. He looked so at ease. It all appeared to be rather simple. Just a matter of balance. Kind of like riding a horse.
I grabbed the next wave. It was not at all like riding a horse. I no sooner stood up then I looked down to make sure my feet were in place, not that there were little diagrams or anything, when I went ass over tin cups. The surf tossed me off the board. Ocean water filled my nose, ears, and mouth. When I came up, my board was floating beside me, the tether keeping it close at hand. I threw my arms over it, caught my breath, and then paddled back out. Then fell off the fucking board again during the next ride.
After a solid two hours of wiping out, I slogged to the beach, my trunks slipping down on one side. With a huff of sheer exhaustion, I dropped down into the wet sand, cursing at my inability not to look down. I saw Bishop coming to shore, his board under his arm, his soaking wet trunks clinging to his junk. How dare the man be so damn sexy?
“You look soggy and adorably surly,” he said as he flopped down beside me.
“It’s nothing like riding a horse,” I mumbled, my arms and legs complaining, my elbow sore where I’d cracked it on the board in a spectacular tumble, and my left ear packed full of salt water. “Also, I think a crab bit my toe.” I held up my right foot to show him the laceration on my pinkie toe.
“You poor thing.” He reached over to rub his fingertips along my scalp. “I’ll kiss every part of you that hurts as soon as we have a place where kissing sore parts can take place.”
“I didn’t ride one wave to the end,” I confessed.
“I know. But you know what? You never gave up, and that one time you almost made it. Another few hours and you’d be shredding those breakers.”
“Another few hours you’ll be taking me to the emergency room.”
He wiggled in close, slick wet skin gliding over mine. “I think you’re fucking awesome for even attempting it. No shit, I mean it.” I scoffed a bit more. “It takes balls to do something new. Today was just to see how you sat on the saddle. Next time you’ll trot, I promise.”
“Cowabunga, dude,” I mumbled.
He roared, kissed my salty beard, and leaned back to enjoy the wind and surf in his face. I glanced over once when he’d fallen silent because he was never quiet unless he was asleep and caught him with his eyes closed but sitting up. He looked to be meditating, and I loathed the thought of disturbing him. It gave me a chance to admire his features that I’d come to love.
Love.
Yes, love. I was falling in love with a bun wearing dino bonehead. Hell, maybe falling wasn’t the right term. Maybe I’d already plunged into love just like I had the Pacific Ocean. In a way, it felt similar. The rush of the water coming up under you, lifting you up, pushing you forward, and then tossing you head over heels. Gasping at the realization, I tried to steady my erratic breathing as fear wrestled with giddiness. I focused on his face again to calm my thumping heart. Enjoying the way his gold lashes rested on his bronze cheeks, I smiled as his lips twisted up on one side.
“Can you hear that?” he asked as a child raced past with a snow cone melting all over his hand.
“All I hear is the sound of the ocean,” I replied, my gaze moving from his long lashes to his lush mouth.