And yet, Winter seemed completely nonchalant, unlike Tripp’s trepidation as he watched Winter struggle to right himself. The board started to slide the moment Winter tried to push on it to stand up, leaving his brother crab-walking several feet before he tried a different approach. This time he scooched his ass closer to the board and grabbed the front edge, keeping it high as he tipped himself forward until he was vertical.
“Yes!”
Watching Winter’s momentary struggle made it easier for Tripp, who decided to roll over and press his toe edge into the sand. It made standing much easier, just like when they were on snow.
“Shit, I shoulda thought of that,” Winter remarked. “I’d better brush up. Jesse said they spend a lot of their free time on the snow and ice. I’ll have to pick up a new pair of skates. I don’t know where my last pair went.”
“Cara’s, remember, so you’d have them there the next time we visited.”
“Oh yeah!”
Their nieces and nephews took great joy in dragging their uncle Winter out onto the icy pond behind their house, while Tripp lingered in the kitchen with Cara and her husband, talking about more adult things like rising gas prices and their old man’s refusal to wear the reading glasses he knew he needed.
When had he become so dull?
While Tripp pondered that, his twin sifted his weight forward and down the dune he went, laughing as he executed a couple of basic turns, leaving a serpentine trail behind him.
Enough thinking.
He followed Winter down the dune, the rush of air exhilarating as he gained speed. Holy shit, it really wasn’t any different than snowboarding. Soon Tripp wasn’t thinking about anything. Instinct meant he knew how to move, shoulders, hips and head guiding him through the tricks they’d learned growing up. He watched Winter launch into the air, flip and spin around, landing in a spray of sand, his laughter rolling over the dunes.
Later, when they’d exhausted themselves, they sprawled in the chairs of a nearby cabana tent, snacking on cold fruit chunks and water.
“Shoulda found someplace like this years ago,” Winter remarked.
“No shit. I can’t remember the last time we went on vacation.”
“I can.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, but I’m not shocked that you don’t.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Relax. Damn. All I meant was that it wasn’t exactly a vacation for you,” Winter pointed out.
“Oh, fuck, Key West. That wasn’t a vacation, it was a disaster! I barely survived the week. The only safe place was my hotel room. It was like the whole damned island was out to kill me.”
“As I recall, your hotel wasn’t particularly safe either, captain overdramatic.” Winter said. “Oh and, Key West is a peninsula, not an island.”
“Island, peninsula, whatever you want to call it, my life was in peril from the time we arrived until Bash drove me to the airport!”
“You talk about it like we took you to Australia or something.”
Tripp hrumphed, pouting when he realized his water bottle was empty. “More like a mini-Australia!”
“It was nowhere close to beingthatdangerous.”
Tripp remembered the fire ants he’d accidentally carted back to his room in his backpack. They’d gone from munching on the half-eaten sandwich he’d forgotten to throw away, to munching on him.
Shuddering in revulsion, he glared at Winter. “Thanks for reminding me of that little fiasco.”
“I hope this goes much better.”
“You and me both.”
“Look on the bright side, you can’t step on a jellyfish in this sand.”