Before I Ever Met You

“Hurry up,” he says. “I don’t have all day.”


I run into the water after him, rolling my eyes, which keeps them from staring at his ass as the waves crash around him. I mean, just look at his back…it’s a giant wall of rippled muscle, something you’d see Tom Cruise hanging off of by his fingertips.

Keep it together, I scold myself. Remember who this is.

And I do remember. No matter how juvenile my hormones are acting, he’s still the man who belonged to my sister before he threw it all away.

I’m not sure if it’s because having Logan out here with me is throwing my world upside down, but it seems like the waves have somehow gotten bigger in the last five minutes. I dive under the break, my head bursting through the surface.

“You’re learning,” he notes as the water streams off my face, the salt water burning my skin. He brings the board around. “Here, get on.”

Oh boy. This is going to be a lot more awkward with him than it was with Charlie. With Charlie, I didn’t mind the fact that he was face to face with my ass when I was climbing on and getting into position. Charlie and I have been pretty flirty, but I know it’s not going anywhere. If anything, he’s like a brother to me and whatever innuendo he throws my way, I’m quick to crush it.

Logan’s staring at me with a mix of amusement and impatience as he keeps the board steady, the muscles on his arms taut. It’s hard to believe the man is pushing forty with the way his damn body looks.

“Freckles,” he warns, jerking his chin at the board.

I make a noise of disgust under my breath and quickly get on the board as gracefully as I can.

I fail at it. I’m half on, trying to pull myself over and my fucking bikini bottoms are sliding half off my ass by the time I manage to hook my leg over the edge. I let out a string of grunts and expletives before I’m on and I know my cheeks are going red because I can feel his gaze on my half-covered ass, lingering there.

“Need some help there, Beach Bum?” He sounds way too amused.

I practically growl while I reach back and yank the bottoms up. I’m throwing this goddamn bikini away after this.

“All right, let’s get you into the line here,” he says, moving me and the board forward until he stops, scanning the horizon behind him.

“Aren’t you going to let go?” I ask.

He looks back at me, frowning. His eyes look extra luminous with the water reflecting against them. “I’m not letting go until you’re ready.”

So far this is already wildly different than the way Charlie was teaching me. He was more trial by error. Logan seems to want to take his time, which surprises me. I thought I would be the first person he would willingly chuck into the deep end.

“Okay,” I manage to say, completely aware of his arm across the back of my legs as he holds the board.

“What’s your favorite song?”

I frown, the water rising beneath me as another wave passes. “What?”

“Tell me what your favorite song is.”

“What’s your favorite song?” I can’t help but fire back.

“‘Purple Rain,’” he says without hesitation.

“Prince?”

“Do you know anyone else with the song ‘Purple Rain?’”

“No,” I admit. I guess I never pegged him as a Prince fan. “Must have been a tough year for you.”

“Well I’m a Bowie fan too, so yeah. Bloody awful.” He pauses and I feel him adjust the board, his arm brushing higher against the back of my legs. “Was a fan of your sister too, so the last couple of years have been pretty shitty when it comes to people I love dying.”

Holy fuck. That was pretty much the last thing I expected him to say.

“So what’s your favorite song,” he goes on, like nothing has happened.

I lick my lips, trying to think. They taste like salt. “Uh. Led Zeppelin’s ‘Kashmir.’”

It was the first thing that popped into my head. My brain is still trying to reel over what he said about Juliet. He loved her. How could I even take that as truth?

Logan eyes me with a hint of approval. “Really? All right. Fine. Good choice. Now, start singing it.”

“Excuse me?” I have the worst singing voice in the world. I don’t even sing in the shower, since all it does is just amplify my horribleness.

“Start singing ‘Kashmir.’ Not in your head. Out loud.”

“You are so fucking with me,” I say, glaring at him over my shoulder. His face gives me nothing. “It’s an eight-minute song! How long is this wave?”

“I promise it will help you surf.”

“How? I’ll be trying to remember the lyrics.”

“If it’s your favorite song, it will come automatically. And when it comes automatically, your mind is free to latch onto something else. Surfing. You’ll relax, you’ll stop overthinking. Not to mention there’s a natural rhythm to the ocean and I promise you it will match up with the song.”

That all sounds like complete bullshit.

“Are you ready?”

“What? No.” I look behind me again to see the swells approaching.

“You’re catching this next one,” he says calmly. “I’m going to push you forward to give you momentum. Start paddling and start singing. Now!”

“At the intro of the song or—?”

“Oh let the sun beat down upon my face,” Logan starts singing loudly and hell, can this man sing. His impression of Robert Plant is eerily accurate. “Your turn!” he yells and I feel him start to push me through the water.

“Um, um,” I say, paddling before I find the strength in my chest and croak out, “Stars will fill my dreams.”

“Feel the song, keep singing,” he yells and let’s go of the board. “Get to your feet when you’re keeping time with the wave.”

“I am a travel of both time and space,” I sing, horribly, and the board starts picking up more and more speed. “Be where I have been.”

By the time I get to elders of a gentle race, I can feel it’s time to ride. I’m not sure if it’s the song or instinct but I can just tell. I push up off my hands and toes, get to my knees.

Here’s the scary part. I’m slicing through the water, riding this fucking wave and feeling I’m on top of the world. I could just ride the whole wave to shore on my knees and it would be fun and thrilling all on its own.

It’s that next step that scares me. It’s the risk of standing up. Of giving up what’s easy and trying something hard. It’s where I’ve failed every time before.

“Don’t be comfortable!” Logan’s voice is small, disappearing behind me. “You’re doing this!”

I’ve lost my place in the song. It doesn’t matter. “Ooooh, I’ve been flying, ain’t no denying,” I sing, “no denying.”

And I don’t deny. I fly.

I get up onto my feet, inch by inch, but I make it.

My legs are shaking, I can feel the ocean rushing beneath my feet.

And just like that, I’m surfing. I really am a traveler of both time and space.

I’m powerful, unstoppable.

Free.