Page 5 of Say When
"First thing," I say, voice a little hoarse, "pop-up position on the sand so I can correct your form."
She drops to the board on the beach, lies flat, then pushes up with her hands. Her back arches, ass lifting, and I step behind her, hands going to her hips to guide her.
"Like this," I murmur, pressing her hips down slightly, thumbs brushing the bare skin above her bikini bottoms. "Chest up, look forward, not down."
She follows my instructions, body moving under my hands, warm and responsive. Every adjustment feels intimate, my palms sliding along her waist, my chest brushing her back when I lean over to check her stance.
"Good," I say against her ear. "Now in the water."
We paddle out together. She struggles a little getting over the small waves, laughing when water splashes her face. I stay close, one hand steadying the board when she needs it.
The first few tries, she pops up too fast, loses balance, tumbles into the foam with a yelp. Each time I pull her up, her body slick and pressed against mine in the water, her laughter turns breathy when my hands linger on her waist.
"You're getting it," I tell her after the fifth fall. "One more time, slowly. Feel the wave lift you."
She nods, determination in her eyes, and paddles into position. The wave comes, gentle but perfect. She pushes up, slow and controlled. For one glorious second, she's standing, arms out, smile wide and triumphant.
Then the board tips, and she's in my arms again, laughing, legs wrapping around my waist instinctively as I catch her.
Our faces are inches apart, water dripping from her lashes, lips parted.
"You did it," I say, voice rough.
"Because of you." Her hands slide to my shoulders, fingers digging in slightly.
I could kiss her right here. I want to so badly, but I don't. Instead, I carry her closer to shore, set her down gently, and let my hands trail down her sides before I step back.
"See? Not terrible at all."
She looks up at me, eyes dark, chest rising and falling fast. "Thank you. That was amazing."
"Anytime." I brush wet hair from her cheek. "You want to go again?"
She shakes her head slowly. "I think I've had enough for today. I’m going to end with a win."
I nod, even though every part of me wants to keep her in the water, keep my hands on her.
We walk back up the beach, board under my arm, her cover-up draped over her shoulders. The sun is dipping lower, painting everything gold.
At her cottage steps, she turns to me.
"Jake..."
"Yeah?"
She hesitates, then steps closer, rises on her toes, and presses the softest, briefest kiss to my cheek.
"Thank you for today," she whispers.
Before I can respond, she's gone, door closing softly behind her. I stand there a long moment, cheek tingling, body hard and aching, smiling like an idiot.
3
GRACE
The morning sun spills across the boardwalk in golden ribbons, warming the weathered planks beneath my sandals as I step out of the rental cottage. Salt air fills my lungs, carrying the faint sweetness of sunscreen and distant fryers from the food stands lining the shore. I pause for a moment on the porch, letting the breeze tug at the hem of my white sundress. The fabric is light cotton, dotted with tiny yellow flowers that catch the light like scattered sunshine, and it feels like a small act of rebellion against the gray months I left behind in the city. No more heavy coats weighing me down. No more arguments echoing off apartment walls, leaving bruises on my heart that no one could see. Just me, this endless stretch of coastline, and a summer to rediscover who I am without someone else constantly defining it for me.
I walk down the boardwalk toward Jake’s store. I smile at the hand-painted sign that swings above the door: “Shoreline Supply – Everything You Need for Sun and Sand.” Nothing flashy or pretentious, just like the man who owns it. I push the door open, and a little bell chimes overhead, announcing my arrival with a cheerful ring that cuts through the quiet hum of the fan inside.
