Page 43 of Catch a Wave

“Definitely. We don’t know if we’ll ever be here again. We need to do it all, don’t you think?”

“I do.”

I pause and stare into her eyes. She stares right back. There’s this fizz of energy between us. It’s been there since that first day at Mavericks.

Way back in high school chemistry I learned how some elements clash—even causing dangerous explosions when mixed. But other elements are compatible, making something more amazing when they combine. Kalaine and I seem to have both things going for us. A lot of combustion, but also some serious compatibility.

I know Kai warned me off, but he didn’t say I couldn’t take Kalaine to a meal or hang out with her. And I’d never disrespect Kai or endanger our friendship. I look up the walkway where part of our group has already turned into the resort where we’re going to hang out. Kai’s busy with his new friend, Andreia. I know my intentions with Kalaine. He’s over-the-top in his concern for her. I just want to get to know her better.

“I haven’t spent enough time with some of the surfers here either,” I say, pinning her with a meaningful gaze—one I’m hoping says everything my words aren’t.

“Me either.” Her smile grows and her eyes crinkle at the edges. “Maybe that should be on your bucket list too.”

It is. Believe me, it is.

14

KALAINE

Any true champion can bounce back.

That’s what being a champion is:

being able to deal with adversity

and being able to bounce back.

~ Floyd Mayweather, Jr.

Bodhi takes another wave. A few other surfers sit on their boards at a distance from him, but he’s the one I’m watching. I walked down here this morning, like I’ve been doing every morning this week since I got my boot off. It’s my third week on Marbella. I’m doing virtual physical therapy online to strengthen the muscles around the area I broke in my ankle. And I’m wearing a brace when I take walks for the next few weeks.

I’m making progress. Toward what? I don’t know. But at least my body is healing.

The early morning air is misty and cool. I snug my hoodie around me and watch Bodhi from my spot on the sand where I’m mingled between the rows of sun beds. I’m not fullycamouflaged, but I’m far enough from the edge of the water to avoid drawing unnecessary attention to myself.

Two resort employees move up and down the rows of large wooden recliners, placing cushions on each set of loungers for the day. Other than them and me, the beach is basically deserted. I don’t know why I come here, morning after morning. Watching Bodhi is a dangerous habit. Even now, he presses his foot onto the board, shifting his weight and propelling himself into a backside snap, sending an arc of spray off the lip of the wave. I’m aware of my own foot pressing into the sand and my body shifting on instinct as if I’m performing the trick, not merely spectating.

Bodhi moves like poetry, athleticism, and sexy masculinity, every line of his body fluid and arching with the water. Surfing is dance, sport, and art. And I’m living vicariously through Bodhi, but each wave he takes reminds me how I’ll never do what he’s doing again.

He takes a final wave, getting just inside the tube for a few seconds and then shooting out long and clean with a straight ride toward shore. He stands, grabbing his board, and I can see his satisfied smile from here. Time to go.

I should leave before I’m found out, but I can’t take my eyes off him as he shakes his head like a dog, water droplets flying to the left and right, and then lifts his free hand to rake his hair back off his face. My heart begs me to go to him. My mind knows better.

He’s been nothing but kind and respectful to me—maybe occasionally flirty, but mostly he’s stood by his word to befriend me since I moved in. I’m having a hard time hanging on to the grudge I held for so long. He’s different. I’m different. Holding on to a resentment isn’t my style, and it’s not serving me anymore.

I start to turn, unsure if Bodhi sees me. We always did have that acute awareness of one another. That much hasn’t dimmed between us.

His face lights up. He sets his board on the sand and starts making purposeful strides in my direction. Maybe he didn’t see me. In a burst of what I’ll later call temporary insanity, I duck behind the back of a lounger—as if that could change something if he’s already seen me. Hopefully he didn’t. I grasp the back of one of the chairs, contemplating my escape. Dropping to my knees, I start army crawling down the sand behind the line of loungers, being careful to keep my ankle elevated.

I’m crawling along, without a plan except the deep need to keep my morning surf-watch a secret. My eyes aim downward at the sand and I lift my head every few crawls to check the area ahead of me. I have no idea how I’m going to make a getaway when I get to the end of the row, but I’ll deal with it when I get there. My abs are screaming at me for not doing a core workout in ages.

At least Bodhi and I have done yoga four other times since that first session. I’m getting stronger. My physical therapist says it’s one of the best things I can do for my healing as long as I don’t push it too hard. He has no idea what I go through watching Bodhi stretch and pose. Who knew I was such a glutton for punishment? But I can’t find it in me to say no to Bodhi whenever he invites me.Yoga sesh, Kalaine?Um. Yes, please.

I take a few more measured crawls and come crashing into two legs, clad in neoprene. My eyes trace the legs up, up past the torso to the smirking face of the man I loved for over two years—maybe I still love him. It’s so hard to know my own mind right now.

The entertained expression on his face stokes a fire in me.

“Mornin’ Mavs.”

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