Then she passed the food around and damn, it was good. It wasn’t store-bought either: she’d made those sandwiches with her own hands. I couldn’t help imagining what else she could do with her hands.
Which wasn’t such a great idea: trying to eat a sandwich, with a hard-on pressing against my jeans. Again. This woman was going to be the death of me. What a way to go.
Mitch drove across Coronado Bridge, and then stopped a couple of times so we could check out the surf running along Silver Strand.
“See, Caroline, we’re looking for a steady swell and offshore breeze to hold up the waves; the best conditions for producing long, workable rides. If the wind is onshore, it’s just froth and white water—no good for surfing.”
In the end, Mitch pulled up at the side of the road near Cays Park, and we piled out of the back.
Mitch’s commentary had given me an idea: it was clear that Caroline didn’t know anything about surfing, and she wanted to write an article about it. I could help with that: in fact I planned to. As soon as everyone was in the water, I was going to catch a ride in, and talk to her by myself.
The thought made my heart thud in my chest, and I was amazed to see that my hands were shaking slightly. What the fuck was that?
“Just forget I’m here,” said Caroline.
Like that was even possible.
“I’ll just watch and soak up the vibe.”
“Yes, ma’am,” said Bill, and the ass wipe started undressing in front of her.
Fuck that!
I tore off my own t-shirt and hoped that Caroline was looking my way. Shit! I wished I had more chest hair. Okay, I didn’t want to look like a fucking Neanderthal like Bill, but, you know, just a bit more would have been cool.
Mitch handed me his thruster.
“I think I’ll take my longboard out today, Seb. You have this one.”
“Thanks, Mitch,” I muttered.
My psycho dad had trashed my Quiksilver board, saying I’d been spending too much time at the beach. What the fuck did he know? I did my studying; I was keeping up my grades. What more did the bastard want?
But Mitch understood.
Caroline took some more photographs, and I thought I was going to break my fucking jaw trying to smile, while Bill showed off, fucking smirking at her the whole time.
We headed out into the surf, and I felt the shock as the first wave of cold water hit my chest. I dove through it, and paddled for the lineup.
I caught a couple of waves just so no one would get weird on me, and then headed back to the beach. Back to Caroline.
She was sitting cross-legged, writing in her notebook and sometimes taking photographs. Her arms and legs were bare in her fucking adorable sundress.
When she looked up at me and smiled, I thought I was going to pass out. Aaand, cue hard-on.
“You finished already?”
“I thought it might help if I explained some more—for your article,” I mumbled, gripping the board in front of me for dear life and all that would save me from total fucking humiliation.
“That would be great: it all looks kind of the same to me.”
God, she was so cute. I couldn’t help laughing.
“Not really. See, Mitch is using a longboard with a rounded nose. He can work the smaller waves with that, and do some hippie shit like hang ten. Ches is riding a shortboard, so he can slash across the wave, catch some air and do the more radical stuff.”
When she smiled again, I nearly forgot my own name.
“What sort of board do you have—have you borrowed?”
“This is a shortboard, a thruster…”
Jeez, just saying the word ‘thruster’ made me hard. Okay, harder, for fuck’s sake.
“Um … it’s the same as Ches’ and Fido’s. See how fast they’re going there? You can’t do that on a longboard.”
She took a load of notes, and it felt really good that I was helping her.
“How many guys on the Base surf?” she asked.
“Quite a lot: once you’ve got your board, the ocean is free. You can be an individual out here—you know, different from military stuff.”
She nodded, and I think she knew what I was saying: out there, you can be whoever you want to be.
“So there are no rules for surfing?”
“Well, there are some rules: you don’t drop in and steal someone’s wave. That’s bad etiquette. The guy who takes off first: that’s his wave.”
“And the second?”
“You go help anyone in trouble.”
She smiled.
“Sebastian, don’t let me keep you from your friends; I’m quite happy to sit here and watch.”
No! Let me sit here with you!
I knew that any moment, she was going to get up and walk away. I had to tell her how I felt. I had to let her know how much she meant to me. After all these years, she’d come back. I felt like she’d come back to me.