Dear John(17)

This is what I was telling Savannah, anyway, as we made our way toward the ocean early Sunday morning. At least, that’s what I thought I was saying. For the most part, I was just sort of rambling, trying not to be too obvious about the fact that I really liked the way she looked in a bikini.

“Like horseback riding,” she said.

“Huh?”

“Hearing yourself think. That’s why I like riding, too.”

I’d shown up a few minutes earlier. The best waves were usually early in the morning, and it was one of those clear, blue-sky days portending heat that meant the beach would be packed again. Savannah had been sitting on the steps out back, wrapped in a towel, the remains of the bonfire before her. Despite the fact that the party had no doubt gone on for hours after I’d left, there wasn’t a single empty can or piece of trash anywhere. My impression of the group improved a bit.

Despite the hour, the air was already warm. We spent a few minutes in the sand near the water’s edge going over the basics of surfing, and I explained how to pop up on the board. When Savannah thought she was ready, I waded in carrying the board, walking beside her.

There were only a few surfers out, the same ones I’d seen the day before. I was trying to figure out the best place to bring Savannah so she’d have enough room when I realized I could no longer see her.

“Hold on, hold on!” she shouted from behind me. “Stop, stop . . .”

I turned. Savannah was on her tiptoes as the first splashes of water hit her belly, and her upper body was immediately covered in gooseflesh. She appeared to be trying to lift herself from the water.

“Let me get used to this. . . .” She gave a few quick, audible gasps and crossed her arms. “Wow. This is really cold. Holy cow!”

Holy cow? It wasn’t exactly something my buddies would say. “You’ll get used to it,” I said, smirking.

“I don’t like being cold. I hate being cold.”

“You live in the mountains where it snows.”

“Yeah, but we have these things called jackets and gloves and hats that we wear to keep warm. And we don’t thrust ourselves into arctic waters first thing in the morning.”

“Funny,” I said.

She continued to hop up and down. “Yeah, real funny. I mean, geez!”

Geez? I grinned. Her breathing gradually began to even out, but the gooseflesh was still there. She took another tiny step forward.

“It works best if you just jump right in and go under instead of torturing yourself in stages,” I suggested.

“You do it your way, I’ll do it mine,” she said, unimpressed with my wisdom. “I can’t believe you wanted to come out now. I was thinking sometime in the afternoon, when the temperature was above freezing.”

“It’s almost eighty degrees.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she said, finally acclimating. Uncrossing her arms, she took another series of breaths, then dipped maybe an inch. Steeling herself, she slapped a bit of water on her arms. “Okay, I think I’m getting there.”

“Don’t rush for me. Really. Take your time.”

“I will, thank you,” she said, ignoring the teasing tone. “Okay,” she said again, more to herself than me. She took a small step forward, then another. As she moved, her face was a mask of concentration, and I liked the way it looked. So serious, so intense. So ridiculous.

“Quit laughing at me,” she said, noting my expression.

“I’m not laughing.”

“I can see it in your face. You’re laughing on the inside.”

“All right, I’ll stop.”

Eventually she waded out to join me, and when the water was up to my shoulders, Savannah climbed on the board. I held it in place, trying again not to stare at her figure, which wasn’t easy, considering it was right in front of me. I forced myself to monitor the swells behind us.

“Now what?”

“Do you remember what to do? Paddle hard, grab the board on both sides near the front, then pop up to your feet?”

“Got it.”

“It’s kind of tough at first. Don’t be surprised if you fall, but if you do, just roll with it. It usually takes a few times to get it.”

“Okay,” she said, and I saw a small swell approaching.

“Get ready . . . ,” I said, timing it. “Okay, start paddling. . . .”

As the wave hit us, I pushed the board, giving it some momentum, and Savannah caught the wave. I don’t know what I expected, except that it wasn’t to see her pop straight up, keep her balance, and ride the wave all the way back to shore, where it finally petered out. In the shallow water, she jumped off the board as it slowed and turned with dramatic flair toward me.