Page 12 of Crashing Into You

“What?” I lift my chin.

“Well, for starters, you’re going to be cold. And possibly naked in a few minutes, once we get past those waves.”

“Naked?” A mix of fear and excitement swirls through me.

“That flimsy thing is probably great for sunbathing, but not surf swimming. Come on.” He starts along the beach, beckoning me to follow.

I grab my stuff and follow along, part of me grateful we won’t be going for a swim, and part of me thinking about being naked in the water with Bryce. I stamp on that part of me. This is fine. We can have a coffee, I’ll thank him again, and we’ll go our separate ways.

Then I realise he’s stopped next to a pile of stuff on the beach. Clothes and a folded-up surfboard bag, next to a wet surfboard on its side in the sand. He’s rummaging in the board bag. “Here.” He holds something out to me.

I take it from him. It’s a rash top, silky soft fabric, emblazoned with the Ocean’s Curl logo. It smells of him– warmth and amber and sea salt.

“Chuck it on and we’ll go in. Can’t have you losing your bathers out there.” He winks at me.

Heat surges through me, along with fear. Damn. Looks like we’re swimming after all. I pull the rash vest on, then make sure the ties on my bikini bottoms have double knots. Bryce’s top is loose on me, which I’m kind of glad about.

Then he takes my hand.

I flinch.

“A deal is a deal, right? Let’s go.” He pulls me towards the water and I have no choice but to follow, the two of us jogging down the beach hand-in-hand like a couple of lovers. The water is colder than I expected, and I squeal as he pulls me in deeper, rising onto my tiptoes as the waves break around my thighs. He laughs.

“Come on. Let’s get past all this. You know how to duck-dive, right?”

“Duck dive?”

He lets go of my hand and demonstrates, diving under the next wave that approaches, emerging with a toss of his head, light catching the spray of water he makes. He’s completely beautiful, like a legend of a merman coming from the sea to entice girls into the surf. Which is exactly what he’s doing to me. What the hell am I doing out here? The water is deep enough. But he’s waiting.

So I take a deep breath and dive. Holy shit, it’s freezing. And, as the waves pull at my skimpy bikini bottom, I’m gladder than ever of Bryce’s rash vest. I surface, pushing my hair back and blinking salt-water out of my eyes.

“Nice work. Let’s keep going. Just be careful of the sandbanks though.” He points out a few areas of water which seem shallower.

“Uh, maybe I’ll just keep close to you.”

“I don’t mind that,” he says, his voice deeper.

My reaction is immediate. My nipples, already hard from the cold, tingle, and a pulse beats between my legs. He comes closer, staring into my eyes, his lips parting. I wonder if he’ll taste of salt when he kisses me again.

Then a wave smashes into us both, nearly knocking me over. He laughs and grabs my arm, then we’re diving again, letting the waves roll over us, heading for the blue water beyond. It’s exhilarating at first, the force of the water hitting me, Bryce’s seal-sleek form guiding me through the surf.

Then my feet lose the bottom, and I’m swimming. The waves are no longer breaking. Instead, they seem to loom over me like walls of dark-blue water, lifting me and dropping me again. I try not to panic, but I keep thinking about what could be swimming beneath me. Ugh. This is why I don’t like deep water. I look up but there’s no sign of the familiar red wings of the shark-spotting plane, doing its patrols along the coast.

“Hey, everything all right?”

Bryce swims up to me and, without thinking, I grab onto him, wrapping my arms and legs around him, burying my head in the curve where his neck meets his shoulder. I can smell the rubber of his wetsuit, and he just feels sosafe. After a moment his arms come around me.

“Claire, lift your head.”

I do as he asks. I’m too scared to feel embarrassed about hanging onto him like a limpet. His gorgeous face is close to mine, strands of wet hair clinging to his high cheekbones.

“Look at the shore,” he says. “We’re not too far out. We can go back in, if you want.”

He’s right. We’re only just behind the breakers. And the coast is beautiful, just as he said, the high headlands looming, seeming to fall into the blue water. I relax slightly.

“That’s it,” he says. “I won’t let go of you.”

I don’t want him to let go.