“Sure, man. Come on through.”
Sebastian let the owner go ahead then whispered in my ear.
“Don’t worry: he says that to everyone. He hasn’t got a clue who I am. It’s cool.”
I tried to relax but the shot of adrenaline was still working its way through my body—I smiled wanly.
The owner sized us up expertly and handed over a couple of cropped wetsuits, silky rash vests to wear under the neoprene and a large, heavy foam-covered surfboard. I was glad that Sebastian tucked it under his arm—it was too wide for me to be able to carry easily.
“That’ll be twenty bucks,” drawled the owner.
Before I could stop him, Sebastian pulled out his wallet and handed the man a couple of bills.
“And I’ll need a credit card for security, dude.”
Sebastian’s eyes flickered uncertainly to me. I knew he didn’t have a credit card and I wasn’t really keen on the idea of handing one over that described me as ‘Mrs. Carolina M. Wilson’.
“How about we give you our car keys?” said Sebastian, thinking quickly. “We’re parked right over there.”
He pointed at my old Ford.
“Dude, that piece of shit isn’t gonna pay for anything!”
“Ah, come on! What are we going to do? Go running down the highway carrying a spongey?”
The owner held up his hands in defeat. “Okay, okay, but only because your girlfriend has such a cute smile, man!”
I thanked him quickly as I dragged a suddenly angry Sebastian out of the door.
“He was hitting on you,” he grumbled.
“Hardly!”
“He was.”
I shook my head. “Are you going to teach me to surf, or what?”
Sebastian grinned. It really didn’t take much to put him in a good mood—how very different from David.
Neither of us had swim gear. I just tuggen on the wetsuit over my panties and unhooked my bra when I’d pulled on the rash vest, so I was half-dressed. Sebastian watched in fascination. I didn’t think it warranted that close a scrutiny. He caught my expression and winked, pulling his borrowed wetsuit over a pair of tight-fitting gray briefs that soon had my mind wandering.
He carried the board down to the sand and gave me a quick lesson on how to pop up using a rocking motion. He made it look easy—probably something to do with his well-developed upper body strength.
The heavy beginner’s board was covered in soft foam to help prevent injuries among the uninitiated, but it was also impregnated with sand, and the palms of my hands soon began to feel sore.
“You’re getting it,” said Sebastian encouragingly. “Let’s try you on a few waves: I’ll push you onto them and tell you when to pop up.”
The waves in the cove were small and well ordered—perfect for learning on. I lay face down on the board and felt the cold water splash around me.
“Get ready! Paddle, paddle, paddle. Now!”
Sebastian pushed me onto a small wave and as the board began to tip down onto the green-water, I popped up, wobbled for a few feet then fell off sideways. I managed to close my mouth but felt seawater gush up my nose. My head broke water as I coughed and rubbed my eyes. My long hair hung like seaweed over my face.
Sebastian was laughing but he looked at me proudly.
“Wow, Caro! You just rode your first wave! That was awesome!”
He kissed my salty face and hugged me tightly as the water rippled around our waists.
“Try again!”
We spent another hour playing in the ocean and, by the end, I’d managed to ride a wave for several seconds and even put in a small turn.
Sebastian hadn’t got bored or shouted at me or shown any signs of impatience. I was slightly in shock, but elated, too.
“So, how do you like being a surfer dude?” he said, smiling at me proudly.
“I love it, but I’m exhausted. It’s almost as tiring as spending the night with you,” I teased him.
He laughed happily then sighed. “I’d like to do that again, but we can’t, can we? Not for a while.” He frowned and squinted at the sun. “I have to get to work soon—we’d better head back.”
We hadn’t planned the surf trip so I didn’t have a towel in the car. Instead we had to pull our clothes back on over damp, salty bodies, and my hair dripped chilly drops of water down my shoulders.
It was easier for me to dress as I was wearing a skirt, but I enjoyed my private ogling as Sebastian pulled off his boxer briefs, only partially hidden by the car door, and grabbed his jeans. I loved watching the flex and ripple of his muscles under his golden tan, the way his jeans dropped down from his waist to hang on his hips, and the way two tiny lines appeared between his eyebrows when he was concentrating on something.