I laugh. “Somehow, I don’t doubt that.”
She glances back at the ocean, holding her hand over her eyes.
“Scared?” I ask, teasing her.
“No, but you should be.” She lifts a brow, then grabs her board. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Wendy paddles out past the break with strokes so smooth that she barely disturbs the surface. I’m mesmerized. A set of waves rolls in, and she catches the first one like a pro.
She pops up flawlessly and rides the face of the wave with her knees bent and her weight low. Her body shifts, and the board follows, not the other way around. Wendy cuts left, drops back, then takes a hard right that sends spray off the front of the board. The wave curls behind her, and she moves through it like she’s controlling the water with her mind.
While she glides across the water, she smiles like she’s having the best fucking time of her life. Every time I think she’s done, she somehow finds more waves, shifting her weight forward and accelerating. She redirects the board with so much control that it looks effortless. In reality, it’s hard as fuck.
Many tourists on the beach stop walking and watch her.
A teenager with a boogie board stands with his mouth open. “She’s hot!”
He’s not wrong. The wave eventually flattens, and she drops into the water, already paddling back out for another one.
The next one is better than the last. On the final ride, she crouches low in the barrel and disappears behind the curtain of water for a full second before shooting out the other side. When she walks the board to shore, her face is flushed, and her eyes are bright. She’s grinning like she rode the best roller coaster.
The tourists who gathered applaud her. Wendy laughs and humbly waves them away.
“Are you doing the competition in July?” a woman asks her.
“No, ma’am,” Wendy explains, “I don’t compete anymore.”
“You should,” a guy insists.
“Thanks for the compliment.” Wendy moves toward me and pulls us away from everyone. She tucks a loose strand of wet hair behind her ear.
I grab our stuff, and we walk away toward the B&B.
“So?” She glances over at me.
“I’m in trouble.”
“Yeah? Warned you. You’ll never look at me the same.”
“You’re right.”
She grins, and her brown eyes sparkle.
“Why aren’t you competing?” I ask when I know we’re alone.
“You’re not serious,” she says, but her smile stays. “I’m not in shape. I’d have to do a lot of training before then, and I have zero time.”
“You just hopped on a board and gave a crowd of thirty people a show. It was flawless. I don’t think you give yourself enough credit.”
She licks her lips. “I don’t compete anymore because it was a toxic environment. I want to surf for fun.”
“Why can’t you surf for yourself because it makes you happy?”
I watch how she chews on the corner of her lip. The sun catches the necklace, and it sparkles. When we make it to the B&B, Wendy places our boards and the balance rings in the shack behind the house. It’s the first time I’ve noticed the bungalow behind it.
“Who lives there?”
“Grandma,” she says, and then she walks to a gate. “Come on.”
