“Didn’t see a thing.”
“That’s a relief.” We stare at each other and before I know it, I giggle, snort, and burst out laughing at how ridiculous I’m being. Holy awkward. If anyone wins the prize, it would be me.
“You just snorted,” he laughs.
“Pretty sure that was your imagination.”
“Right!” He laughs again, deep and loud.
The door opens a second later and Jo peeks her head outside. “Oakley?”
“Hey, Jo,” I say. “You locked me out.”
“I thought you had a key?”
I shake my head, my eyes on Carson. I shoot him a smile and he smiles back. I’m not sure what to think about the way he’s looking at me. Like he isn’t sure what to think, either, but kind of likes it? I may be way off but at least he’s still smiling and not running away. That’s a good sign, I think.
“Thanks for dinner,” I manage. “I’ll see you. Sometime.” I wish I could stop talking.
“Tomorrow morning,” he says. “Remember? I’ll pick you up at eight.”
“For what?”
“Your first surf lesson.” He grins and nods to Jo, who has her arm around me now.
“Oh yeah . . .” Jo’s grip tightens on me and I cringe as my sunburn throbs. I’m so going to peel. “See you tomorrow then.”
“Have a good night, ladies.” He turns, hops off the porch, and takes off across the sand to his house, whistling as he goes.
I stare after him, not sure what to make of him. Or anything, really.
“I wish a guy would look at me that way,” Jo says.
I glance at her and frown. “He wasn’t looking at me like anything.”
She snorts. “Sure.”
CHAPTER 8
For the first time in weeks, I actually set my alarm. I don’t push snooze when it goes off, and don’t lie in bed all morning, like I’ve done the past month. And after looking at the clock, I’m proud to say it’s not even eight yet.
Lucas’s notebook sits on my nightstand and I reach over and grab it. His letters are part of my daily routine now. I love reading them and find myself anxiously waiting for what he has to say each morning.
DEAR OAKLEY,
YOU KNOW WHAT I WISH I WOULD HAVE DONE LAST YEAR IN HIGH SCHOOL? I’M SURE YOU’LL NEVER GUESS, SO HERE’S A SHOCKING TRUTH FROM YOUR TOO-COOL-FOR-SCHOOL BROTHER. HA HA. I’M SO LAME. ANYWAY, I WISH I WOULD HAVE TRIED OUT FOR THE MUSICAL. AND NO, I’M NOT JOKING. YOU OF ALL PEOPLE KNOW I CAN SING. AND APPARENTLY THE WHOLE SECOND FLOOR OF THE HOSPITAL DOES AS WELL. ANYWAY, ME IN A MUSICAL WOULD HAVE BEEN EPIC. AND IT WOULD HAVE BEEN A BONUS BECAUSE EMMY WAS IN IT. MAYBE I COULD HAVE ACTUALLY GOTTEN TO PLAY OPPOSITE OF HER.
I smile at the thought of the girl Lucas had a crush on for years. One of my best friends and neighbor, Emmy Martin. He never did tell her. Not that I know of anyway. He always dated other girls. Mainly stupid ones who didn’t treat him well.
NOW, WITH THAT BEING SAID, I WANT YOU TO DO SOMETHING FOR ME. I’M ABOUT TO GO ALL PHILOSOPHICAL AGAIN, SO WATCH OUT. DON’T EVER LET THE FEAR OF WHAT OTHER PEOPLE MAY THINK OF YOU STOP YOU FROM PURSUING THE THING THAT MIGHT MAKE YOU GREAT.
I WISH I WOULD HAVE DONE MORE. I REGRET NOT TRYING OUT FOR THAT STUPID PLAY. ALL BECAUSE I THOUGHT THE BASKETBALL TEAM WOULD MAKE FUN OF ME. I DON’T KNOW WHY I LET THEM STOP ME. I COULD HAVE TAKEN ANY OF THEM IN A FIGHT ANYWAY. PROMISE ME YOU WON’T DO THE SAME THING I DID. LIVE YOUR LIFE. GO AFTER YOUR DREAMS. DON’T HAVE ANY REGRETS. AND MOST OF ALL, BE HAPPY.
LOVE, LUCAS
Go after your dreams. I let that sink in a moment, but I don’t even know what my dreams are. What do I want? Where do I want to be in five years? I honestly have no idea, but I need to start thinking about it.
My thoughts turn back to Emmy. I should have talked to her before I left. We made so many memories together and when Lucas got diagnosed, I just shut her out. I feel awful about it. She didn’t deserve to be treated like that, no matter how hard it was for me to deal with things. I should pick up the phone and call her but I can’t do it. I wouldn’t know what to say or where to begin with my apologies. I hope she’s forgiven me, and if she hasn’t, I know I’ll apologize someday.
With those thoughts fresh in my mind, I get out of bed and change into my swimsuit, hoping I won’t make a fool of myself today. Not that Carson won’t be a good teacher—I’m sure he will—I just hope I won’t let him down. Or myself down.
As soon as I’m done changing, the doorbell rings. I grab an elastic off my dresser and pull my hair in a quick bun to keep it out of my face while I surf. Or try to surf. I sigh. What am I getting myself into?
“Oakley,” Jo yells down the hall, “you’re wanted at the door!”
“Be there in a sec!” I yell back. I run across the hall to the bathroom to look at my reflection in the mirror and cringe at the turquoise swimsuit I’m wearing. It’s not horrible, but not that flattering either. My hips are wider than I’d like, so I stay far away from bikinis. I’m sure I’ll look plain and boring in a one-piece, but I don’t care . . . much. If I’m going to be in a swimsuit, I need to wear the one that will make me the least uncomfortable.
I hurry and rub some aloe on my sunburned face and shoulders and put sunscreen on over that. Ready or not, I grab my towel and head to the door. Mom is in the kitchen. She looks exhausted. Her eyes have dark circles underneath and her hair’s a mess. She doesn’t notice me, but watches Jo talk quietly to Carson by the front door. When he sees me, his face breaks out into a wide grin. “You ready?”
“I hope so,” I say. No. Not ready at all.
“See ya later, Jo.” He looks past me and smiles at Mom, who’s sitting at the table with a crooked smile on her face. “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Nelson.”
“Bye, Mom,” I say.
She gives me a curious look but doesn’t ask questions. She hesitates for a second before lifting her hand to wave. “Be careful.”
“I’ll be back soon.” I’m not sure what else to say to her, so I follow Carson out the door. I know Mom and I should probably talk about things but I’m not going to be the one to bring anything up. She’s the mom. If she wants to talk, then she needs to be the one to come to me. I’m not supposed to take care of her . . . right?
We step on the porch and Carson picks up his yellow surfboard. Besides a white line running down the middle and some logo at the top, it’s pretty plain. He gestures to the side of me and I notice a board lying in the sand. It’s white, save for a little blue line that goes vertically up the middle, and two pink flowers on either side of it.
“It’s yours.”
“What?” I stare at it and crouch down, running my fingers over it. It’s kind of soft. “It’s mine? Really?”
He shrugs and gives me half a smile. “It’s a foam board. A little more squishy than others. You’ll have an easier time learning on that, I think.”
“You didn’t need to buy me a surfboard,” I say, standing up and folding my arms. I frown.
“It’s not a big deal. I own a surf shop, remember?” He glances at the board. “Besides, it’s used. If that makes you feel any better.”
It doesn’t look used at all. I don’t know what to say. I’m sure surfboards are a lot of money but I don’t dare ask him how much. He probably wouldn’t tell me anyway.
“Oakley.” I look up at him and he smiles. “I promise. It’s okay.” His fingers skim my arm before he leans down to pick up my board.
“Thank you,” I whisper. “You really didn’t need to buy me one.”
“I know,” he says, like it’s no big deal. He pulls the board up and stands it next to me. “You ready?”
I stare at it and grimace. It’s huge. Way taller than me. If he let go of it, it would smash me into the ground. I grab the side of it and smile at him. “So, how the heck am I going to get this all the way across the street and down to the beach?”
He laughs. “It’s not too heavy. And if it does get too heavy, you can drag it. Just not on the road.”
He leans down and picks up two wet suits and towels that sit on the ground beside him. “Let’s do this.”
I grab my board and maneuver it so it’s tucked under my arm. We make it across the street and to the sand, and I really hope no one is watching me. The board is really awkward and after a few minutes, my arms start to tire. It’s not super heavy, just weird to carry.
“I really need to beef up these wimpy arms.” I drop my board into the sand. “I didn’t even make it halfway without dragging it.”
Carson glances at me, surprised. “Your arms don’t look that wimpy.”
“Trust me. They are.” I rub at my aching biceps while he puts the towels down.
He shuffles his feet and rubs the back of his neck. “Okay. So, the first thing you need to know about surfing? You’re gonna fall. A lot.”
“Great. That makes me want to jump in the waves right now.”
He laughs. “No, really. Don’t get discouraged. It takes a while to get used to balancing and knowing which wave to stand up on. You’ll learn though.”
I snort. Which makes us both laugh. Me more out of embarrassment. “We’ll see about that.” My balance sucks. Which I’m sure he’ll figure out very soon.
“Oh, and you can swim, right? I forgot to ask.”
I nod. “I swam in high school.”
“Like on the swim team?”
“Yes. I know, I was a nerd.”
“That’s not nerdy at all. I’m just surprised. I thought you were more of a cheerleading or dancing type.”
Oof, seriously?
“Um . . . that would be a no. I don’t dance. I did take ballet when I was a kid, but it only lasted for about two months. My mom was pretty sad that I quit. She was on her high school drill team and everything so she wanted me to follow in her footsteps. It just wasn’t for me.”
“Those drill team girls are crazy dedicated. I wouldn’t have lasted a day with all the stuff they have to do.”
I chuckle. “I’m sure you would have been a great dancer.”
He smiles as his cheeks redden. “Yeah . . . there’s no way I’d be able to squeeze into those outfits, though.”
“Probably a good thing.” I bump his shoulder.
He bumps me back. “I know.” He stops and rubs his hands together. “Well, are you ready to try your hand at surfing then? Hopefully you don’t quit after our first lesson. I promise it’s fun after you get used to it.”
“Yep, I’m ready.”
“Great.” He gestures to my board lying in the sand. “Why don’t you go ahead and hop on your board then.”
I do as he says and step onto it.
“Now, lie down flat on it. You want that blue line to go right down the center of your body.”
I move so I’m lying flat on my board. Hopefully he’s not staring at my butt. I’m sure it looks really awesome right now. I move my arms so they’re on either side of my face.
“Perfect. Now, when you’re swimming out there, you want your toes to always be touching the back of the board. You use your arms to paddle. Not your feet.” He moves so he’s kneeling next to me. “Now. When a wave comes, I want you to pop up. And you have to do this part fast, but not so fast that you fall off. Put your arms right next to your chest and push yourself up so your arms are straight. Then lean back so you’re kneeling, but you’re sitting on your heels.” He smiles as I do what he says. “Now, this is where it gets tricky. Put your right leg forward and leave your left leg back to balance. Once you get your balance, stand up.”
I stand and laugh. I probably look ridiculous.
“What’s so funny?”
“I’m a dork.”
He smiles and shakes his head. “Now, once you’re up on both feet, make sure the arches of your feet go through the middle of the line. If you’re right in the middle of your board, you won’t fall off as easy. Now, bend your knees and lean back,” he says. I wobble, even though I’m on flat ground. He puts his hand on the small of my back to steady me. He leans in close and I can smell a hint of suntan lotion on him. “Put your arms straight out, like you see all the surfers do.” I gulp and put my arms up. “If you lean forward, you’ll wipe out. It’s a fine line between leaning back too far, or leaning forward too far. You just have to find your own balance. Whatever feels comfortable to you.” His breath tickles my ear and my heart beats like crazy.
“That doesn’t sound too hard,” I say. My voice is shaky. I want to tell the stupid butterflies in my stomach to go away. I shouldn’t be feeling this way. Carson’s just a friend, or rather, my surfing instructor. Nothing more. I don’t have time for stupid crushes when I’m just going to leave in a few months.
“You okay?” Carson’s watching me, a strange look on his face. I nod and fold my arms. “Um . . . why don’t you get your wet suit on, and we’ll go out and try some waves.” He holds up a rope with what looks like a Velcro strap attached to the end of it. “I’ll hook your leash to your board while you get ready.”
“Leash?”
“It velcros around your ankle so you don’t lose your board when you wipe out.”
“Oh.” I stand there, watching him loop it through a little hole on the back of my board I didn’t even notice before.
He glances over and smiles at me. “You might want to get in that wet suit. It’s pretty chilly out there.”
“Okay.” I try to ignore the fact that he’s still staring at me and pick up the wet suit. It looks like it’s made for a tiny little kid. Not someone curvy like me. How am I going to squeeze into something so small? Especially with people watching?
I sigh and realize I have to do it. I’m going to have to wear it whether I like it or not, otherwise I’ll freeze to death.
The material is cold and rubbery. I don’t want to put it on in front of Carson. I’m not even sure why it’s a big deal, either. It’s not like I’m stripping down naked. I’m putting something on to cover up. But it’s tight. And I don’t want him to see me struggle to get all of me in there.
“If you’d like me to turn around, I will.”
I glance up and see Carson smiling at me. I swear he can read minds. Really. It’s starting to creep me out. “That would be nice. Thank you.” I hate how I’m so shy; I wish I could be like other girls and sport a bikini without a thought.
It takes me a minute to figure out how to put the wet suit on, but I get it. I zip it up as much as I can but I have to ask Carson to do the rest. His fingers are warm against my skin as he zips it all the way up to my neck, giving me chills. He gives it a little pat and steps back. “Perfect,” he says.
I don’t dare look down. I don’t want to see what I look like. I’m sure it’s horrifying.
“Okay, let’s get your leash on.” He bends down and wraps the Velcro around my ankle. It’s uncomfortable, but at least I know I won’t lose my board. “You’ll get used to it,” he says as though reading my thoughts. Again. “The rope is long enough that it won’t bother you while you’re surfing. You’ll barely even notice it. Now, grab your board and let’s go.”
“Aren’t you bringing yours?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “My foot’s still bugging me. And all I’m going to do is help you today.”
“But you won’t have anything to hold on to.”
“I’ll be holding on to you most of the time.” A flush of pink touches his cheeks and he turns around and runs a hand through his hair. “Besides, we’re not going out that far. We’re gonna stick with some smaller waves.”
That sounds good to me.
I’m shocked at how cold the water is on my feet. The ocean is so deceiving. It always looks so peaceful and warm. Especially in the movies. Kids playing in the water, models swimming and coming out of the water while looking fabulous and hot.
They’re all liars. It’s freezing cold, just like the first time I touched the water. But that was only with my feet. Now that there’s more of me in it, it’s like standing butt naked in the snow cold. Not that I have any experience doing t
hat, but I’m sure someone has and that they’d be just as cold.
We shuffle through the water and we’re about up to our waists when I start to feel nervous. I hesitate going any farther, and he notices.
“You okay starting from here?” he asks.
“Are the waves big enough?” Just as the words leave my mouth, a wave breaks about a foot from me. It pushes me toward the beach and I struggle to keep my arms moving and make myself go forward. Carson just laughs. He’s standing about chest deep and looks totally relaxed.
“We’re good right here.” He rubs his hands together. “Okay. Before we start, there’s something called surfing etiquette that I need to teach you. Number one. The surfer closest to the peak of the wave gets to go first. We don’t have to worry about it out here really, since most of the surfers are farther out, but when you get good enough, you have to remember that. You can’t just hop on any wave you want.”
I’m lost. “Peak?”
He grins. “When the white water starts falling from the wave.”
“Oh. Right.” Like white mountain peaks. Makes sense.
“Second. When someone’s riding a wave, you can’t just drop in front of them and cut them off. It makes for really angry surfers.”
Like I’d even try something like that. I won’t be able to drop in on anything. “Okay.”
“Third. When you’re paddling out here and someone is riding a wave, wait for them to pass before you paddle out farther so they don’t run you over.”
“Got it.”
“Hang onto your board. If there’s a huge wave while you’re paddling out that you want to avoid, don’t throw your board to avoid it.”
“Why would I throw my board?”
He stares at me for a second before grinning. “Some people do because they panic. I can teach you the rest later. Now turn around and let’s get started.”
I’m nervous, but manage to turn myself around and feel Carson grab my board. “I’m gonna push you the first few times until you’re used to it.”
“Okay,” I say.
“Here comes a good one. Get ready.”
I’m ready. At least I tell myself I am. I brace myself, memorizing the blue line in the middle of my board. My feet are supposed to go there. Right? Don’t stand up too fast. Don’t lean back too far. Everything jumbles together as I feel the wave push me forward. Before I can even think of getting to my feet, I fly off the side of my board.
Love, Lucas Page 7