He studies me, but I stay out of reach of the water.
‘Come here.’ His eyes soften as he looks over. ‘Come on.’ He holds out his hand towards me. ‘It’s not that scary. I’ve got you.’
I take a breath and try to work out which is worse … coming into contact with the sea or not taking the opportunity to touch him. It doesn’t take me long to decide.
I put my hand in his and our fingers wrap around each other. His hand is warm and his grip gentle, and I don’t want him to let go. Although only our hands are touching, I can feel the whole of him next to me and butterflies sweep into my stomach. The feel of the squidgy wet sand is alien and I scrunch up my toes as my feet sink. I’m not sure I like the sensation, and I definitely wouldn’t call it relaxing. I pull my foot out to reposition it and the sand releases it with a plop.
‘The sand’s not great when it’s like quicksand,’ says Jackson, shifting his own stance. ‘It’s the water I like.’
His words redirect my attention towards the sea and I automatically tighten my grip on his hand. A wave rolls and breaks and its white foam top creeps towards us. Instinctively, I pull back, but Jackson’s hand doesn’t release me. Instead, he pulls me forwards until our bodies are touching. His touch seeps through my T-shirt and it’s both safe and familiar.
‘It can’t hurt you. Stand still.’ His gentle voice mimics the rhythms of the intense blue sea rolling and it’s hypnotising.
As the next wave creeps closer, my heart notches up a gear. I lean into him, not caring if it makes him uncomfortable, but he doesn’t falter.
As the water tips my toes, I take a sharp intake of breath and screw my eyes tight shut, but almost as soon as the water has arrived, it’s retreated.
‘See, not that bad, is it?’
The sand beneath my feet is disintegrating, and I move to get a new footing. ‘Maybe.’
The next wave is already rolling in and this one is bigger. It comes a lot further in before it breaks out its foamy white top. Jackson anticipates my need to run. ‘Breathe,’ he murmurs.
I look up at him, but he’s staring out at the sea. This time the water rushes at us. It’s cold and swirls around my ankles, splashing up onto my lower calves. I let out a high-pitched squeak. I hadn’t expected it to get that high. It stays around longer this time, and Jackson nudges me. ‘Wiggle your feet around.’ And as if to demonstrate, he waves a foot around in the water.
‘I can’t.’ Even if I’d wanted to, my feet are rooted to the spot.
The water retreats and the sand disintegrates under my feet quicker this time. My balance goes and I stagger backwards, breaking our contact.
‘Woah. I told you to move your feet.’ He chuckles and puts his hand on the small of my back to steady me. ‘Still don’t take advice then?’
I choose to ignore that statement and search out his hand to grab it, determined to move my feet this time when the incoming water hits. The wave dashes straight against my calves this time and the spray hits my rolled-up jeans. I kick out my foot and send water droplets spinning through the air. I swap feet and try it with the other one. There’s something freeing about the action, and a giggle erupts from me before I can stop it.
‘Fun, huh?’
I look up with a big grin to find Jackson smiling back down at me, and my heart somersaults.
The next wave comes in and I squeeze his hand tight for support and take a small step forwards once the water has reached us. There’s more to kick at if I’m a bit deeper in. I misplace my kick and water sprays sideways, catching the front of Jackson’s shorts.
‘Really?’ But I can hear the smile in his voice.
‘I didn’t mean to.’ I laugh and then cheekily splash him again on purpose this time.
‘Oh, you’re so going to get it with the next wave.’
I twist my hand out of his. ‘No way.’ I giggle as I run away from him, grabbing my socks and shoes as I go.
He laughs behind me and the dozen butterflies from earlier erupt in my tummy and flutter through my chest. Running through the dry sand takes its toll and I have to stop and lean forwards, hands on my knees as I try to catch my breath.
He catches up to me and gives me an affection-filled push. ‘Chicken,’ he teases.
We fall into step alongside each other as if it’s the easiest thing in the world to do.
‘Is it good to be home?’ I ask.
He fiddles with a ring on his little finger as if he’s trying to find the right words. ‘Mum being ill gave me the kick up the backside to get over here. I should have come sooner.’
‘How is she?’
