Jack has one hundred and fifty-two things listed here about me.
All my likes, dislikes, important information… it’s all here. He must have started this when I was a teenager and kept it up until now, because the new ones are information he learned in Paris.
151: Prefers Pinot Noir (for now)
152: Still loves espresso, but also lavender honey lattes.
Though I’m well aware this is snooping, I have no intention of stopping. He has things listed that I barely remember about myself, or have purposely forgotten, like number twenty-seven. On of my most terrifying memories.
27: Sucks at surfing/hates sharks. Not a great day for Belle
“The water is bloody freezing, Sadie! Maybe my English blood is not cut out for this,” I scream over the guys cheering me on.
“Don’t be such a wuss,” Nate calls from the nearest surfboard.
“You’re the only one with a full wetsuit on. I think you’ll survive.” Sadie laughs as she paddles out further.
“Okay, Annabelle.” My surf instructor waves his arm to get my attention. “You’ll be fine. Let’s acclimate ourselves and get comfortable sitting on the board.”
“Okay.” That seems easy enough.
I look back to my friends. They’re all sitting on their boards too, waiting their turn for the next big wave, I suppose.
“You’re doing great, Belle!” Jack calls from shore.
Jeez, I must not be that far out if I can still hear him, yet I feel like I’m miles away.
I think I prefer the sand to this. I’m freezing, and every time I feel anything move around my feet dangling off the board, I internally freak out.
Yesterday, I made the mistake of screaming bloody murder when seaweed grazed my leg. Now I’ll never live it down.
“When you feel comfortable, I want you to go from sitting to the lying position we practiced yesterday.”
I give my instructor a thumbs-up and follow his lead. We practice a few times, and I start to feel more confident.
Jack is waving and clapping every time I make even the slightest move. I’ve not even popped up yet, and he’s acting like I rode the biggest wave of the day.
Suddenly the lifeguards are blowing their whistles to evacuate, and everyone rushes to move ashore.
What the hell is going on?
“Follow me. We need to get out of the water.”
“Why? What’s going on?”
The instructor doesn’t answer, but he paddles past me, waving to me to follow. I look around, panicked.
Where are my mates?
What’s going on?
Sadie, Nate, and Leo are farther away, but I see they’re paddling fast toward the shore.
“Annabelle!” the instructor calls, snapping me out of it and getting me paddling.
He points behind me, and I have no clue what he’s trying to say. I can’t look anywhere but straight, but before the thought is even out of my mouth, I’m knocked over into the water.
The current pushes my body around violently, and I can’t get my bearings. Desperately, I claw at my ankle to where my board is attached, trying to get ahold of it, but I have no luck.
