“I’m going to start you out on this board. It’s a little bigger and more forgiving when you’re learning.”
He grabs the board and says, “Great. Let’s get out in the water.”
“Not so fast.” I look at the board, knowing it hasn’t been used in a while. “Run your hand over the surface here where you’re going to be laying. Do you feel anything?”
He wipes his hand across the board. “Nope. Is that good?”
“Not really. It’s way too slick. We need to wax it first.” I grab a square piece of wax, break it in half, hand it to him, and then lay our boards across a pair of sawhorses. I rub both boards down with a soft cloth to clean them and then say, “Okay, so first, you’re going to just rub it back and forth like this. Just a little. Not using much pressure. I like just a thin coat.”
He mimics what I do. “Got it. Is this how everyone does it?”
“No, it’s just how I like mine. You use different types of wax depending on the temperature of the water, but everyone has their own way to do it. Some use special tools to put the wax on, some just use the wax like we are. Some layer it differently. But the goal is the same. The wax gives you grip.”
“When I was learning how to skateboard, my dad stapled sandpaper over the top of mine.”
“Exactly, that’s the same idea. Only with wax, you can still see the cool design of your board.”
“Yours is really cool.”
“Thanks. It’s custom. Fit to my weight, height, and abilities.”
“And the design?”
I lower my head and press on my wax with a little more intensity. “Okay, so now you’re going to do this. Make Xs or crosshatching across your board. From rail to rail. Just in this area here where you will lay and stand. And then a little more right up here on the rail where you’ll place your hands while getting up.”
I see Aiden’s shadow fall across my board then his finger is under my chin, pushing it up so I have to look at him. “And the design?” he asks again.
“The Keats guy had it custom-made for my sixteenth birthday.”
“Is that why you were upset last night? It reminds you of him?”
I sigh. “No, that wasn’t it, exactly.”
He doesn’t give up. “What upset you, then? Exactly?”
I run my hand across the sticker. “This sticker is new. It matches our tattoos. The chaos.”
“Life is divine chaos,” he reads and nods his head in agreement. “That’s true. You never know what’s going to happen next. Like, with my mom’s cancer. Life was crazy, chaotic, and scary. But out of all that came something divine. She got her life back and is happier than she’s ever been.”
“She must be a really strong person. I don’t know if I could be that strong.”
“She considered fighting cancer like fighting a war with a worthy opponent, but one that was not invincible. You’re stronger than you know, Boots, and if you ever have to fight something, I’m confident you’ll be able to handle it.”
I look down and slide the wax across my board again. I’m probably putting way too much on, but I don’t care because I’m too busy praying that he’s right.
“Okay, then!” I say with fake excitement. “Let’s get you out in the sand!”
“Don’t you mean water?”
“Nope, you gotta practice getting up on the board first. Lots easier to figure that out on the sand than in the water like I did.” I set my board down in the sand and he follows suit. “So, lie down on the board like this; then, when you’re ready, pop up like this into a standing position.” I sit down on my board and give him a smirk. “Now, drop and give me twenty.”
Aiden salutes me, then drops back down onto the board. I watch as he quickly pops up to a standing position. As he counts down from twenty to one, I’m wishing I had told him to do a hundred. When he lies down on the board, he places his arms in front of him, like he’s going to do a push up. This causes his shoulder muscles to ripple, his biceps to flex, and makes me wish I could slide under him every time he drops back down onto the board. He moves fluidly and effortlessly, his coordinated body doing exactly what he expects of it.
By the time he’s counted down to one, he’s starting to sweat. Little beads of perspiration are glistening across his chest. A thin line of water is running between his tight pecs and through a set of luscious abs. I want to grab his hips in my hands and run my tongue along the deep vee that continues down, just below his low-riding shorts.
I remember the first time I saw him. Yeah, my original observation was dead on. He is so the God of all Hotties.
“How’d I do? Am I ready for the water?”
“I’m definitely ready,” I say, still thinking about my body under his . . . Oh, gosh. “I, uh, meant that I’m hot.” For you. “And ready to get out in the, uh . . .” What’s that big body of water called again? Oh! “The, uh, ocean. You know, get my surf on.”