“Wait, just how old are you, anyway?” I joke.
“Twenty-two,” she says. “And I guess I just never cared much for swimming in the ocean.”
I smile inwardly. Two years younger than me—perfect.
“But you like to swim, right?” I hope it’s not that she can’t swim—I wouldn’t mind teaching her that either, but we’d need to skip the surfing lessons.
She shrugs. “Well, yeah, I guess so. But I prefer pools.”
“Is it the salt? Or maybe you’re afraid of sharks.” I point upward, believing I’m right. “That’s it, isn’t it?”
Sienna looks downward and begins to shuffle her painted toes in the sand. “Jellyfish,” she says so quietly that I have to ask her to repeat it.
“Sharks are pretty scary, but jellyfish freak me out,” she says in a more audible voice, looking right at me. “I got stung twice when I was a kid. Ever since then, I’ve always preferred pools.”
“You’d rather swim through urine than get stung by a jellyfish?” I laugh under my breath.
“Actually, I would,” she says matter-of-factly. “And people pee in the ocean just like they do in pools—I think they’d be more likely to pee in the ocean than a pool, if you really think about it.”
“You have, haven’t you?” I ask, grinning at her.
“I have what? Peed in a pool? No, that’s disgusting!”
I laugh out loud.
“No—thought about it,” I say, but I realize that still doesn’t sound right. “It just seems like you’ve given it a lot of thought, about pee versus jellyfish and all that.” I shrug and position the board underneath my arm, still with amusement on my face.
She looks at me in a thoughtful manner for a moment—maybe she’s trying to figure me out.
“And besides,” I go on, “if you got stung by a jellyfish I’d have to pee on you anyway.”
She chokes out a laugh, cupping her long, delicate fingers over the top of her mouth.
“OK, you got me there,” she says. “I just overthink things a lot, to be honest. It’s one of my many flaws.”
“Oh?” I jerk my head back, indicating for her to follow. “What are some of your other flaws?”
She steps up beside me. The smell of her freshly washed hair and lightly perfumed skin does something to me.
“You want to know all of the many things that are wrong with me?” she asks with laughter.
“Well, yeah,” I say. “Might as well get all of that stuff out of the way now so we won’t be disappointed later.” I don’t know why I said that, as if there will even be a later.
Sienna smiles, her eyes drifting from mine and toward the sand again. The breeze catches her long brownish-red hair, pushing it against the front of her chest and crossing over her lips. Instinctively I want to reach out and move it away from her mouth with my fingers, but I don’t.
“Oh, where do I start?” she finally answers dramatically. “I thought this was a surfing lesson?”
“It is,” I say and drop my board carefully on the sand.
She looks at it curiously for a moment and then at me.
“Before we go out there,” I say, “I’ll teach you a few things here.” I strip off my shirt and drop it next to her bag.
“All right, you’re the trainer.” She smiles and drops her board the same as mine, and I catch her checking me out.
“Fins go in the back.” I point, trying not to crack a smile. “Turn it around.” I move my finger around in a circular motion and the blush reddens in her cheeks. I crouch to bury the fins in the sand so they don’t get damaged.
I show her a few basics on land: paddling, how to pop up on her board, and the proper positioning of her body on the board. I help her with the leash around her ankle, not because it’s difficult, but because like taking it upon myself to help her with her shoes yesterday, I want to—and just like yesterday, she doesn’t seem to mind.