Page 49 of Ride the Wave

I clear my throat. ‘Don’t worry, Toni. I’ll get the story.’

‘Better,’ she states, satisfied. ‘You’re the right person for this, Iris. There’s no one else I wanted to send. Is that the vote of confidence you need to get your arse in gear?’

I smile into the phone. ‘More than enough.’

‘Great. Don’t send me shit like that again. You’re better than this.’

‘I know.’

‘I know you know. Oh bollocks, I have to go. I’m late for a meeting with advertising.’

‘Enjoy.’

‘Funny one,’ she mutters. ‘Bye, Iris.’

I hang up and toss my phone down next to me on the sofa, annoyed at myself. When I cobbled those paragraphs together yesterday morning, I knew they weren’t up to scratch. It’s all surface stuff. I need to get more from him. We have to go deeper.

Forcing myself up on my feet, I wander out onto the balcony of the apartment and lean on the railing, gazing out at the sea. There are a couple of surfers braving the water this morning, paddling out and turning to face the shore, lying forwards in wait. Leo isn’t one of them. I know, even from all the way up here, because I’ve watched Leo out in the water and he’s much more fluid than them. Out there, he seems weightless. It’s like he’s not even trying. The surfers I’m watching now are putting the work in and you can see it. You can feel their focus and concentration. Whereas when Leo surfs, he’s just… being.

Suddenly, I remember what Marina said at the party:the only time he’s truly himself is when he’s on a board in thewater.

‘No, no, no,’ I groan, burying my face in my hands.

I think I know what I have to do.

*

The next morning, Leo is at the counter of the shop when I walk in. He glances up at the sound of the bell ringing on my entrance. Confusion flits across his face as I stroll past the line of surfboards towards him.

‘Hi, Leo,’ I say, trying to suppress the nerves threatening to make my voice wobble.

‘London,’ he says with a small nod of acknowledgement.

Whenever he uses this nickname, there’s a gleam of bemusement in his eyes, as though he’s congratulating himself on his humour. It’s both irritating and alluring.

‘Iris!’ Adriano cries happily, barrelling through from the back room, looking much happier to see me than his son. ‘A pleasant surprise.’

‘How are you, Adriano?’

‘Very well.’ He pats Leo on the shoulder. ‘How is the feature going? Leo tells me nothing. That will not surprise you.’

‘It’s coming along,’ I say vaguely, pretending to be interested in the little surfboard keyrings hanging on a stand on the counter.

‘And you had fun the other night at the party, eh? I heard you were there.’

As Adriano beams at me, I notice Leo shoot him a glare.

‘I was,’ I say, wondering if it’s a good or bad thing that Leo mentioned my presence to his dad. ‘It was fun. Great to meet Anna and Marina’s friends.’

‘A good bunch,’ Adriano nods. ‘Surf obsessed.’

‘There was a lot of surf talk.’

He laughs, waggling his finger at me. ‘Perhaps we can win you over and you’ll fall just as in love with it as us locals – when do you head home?’

‘My flight is booked for Saturday.’

‘Too soon,’ Adriano says, his shoulders slumping. ‘Anyway, I’m glad the party was fun. I hope they were serving good wine at least?’

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