Page 109 of The Beach Shack Summer
“Exactly! An impressionable child! Scarred for life by witnessing old people kissing!”
“Old?” Meg pulled back from Luke, laughing. “We’re old now?”
“Anyone over twenty-five is ancient,” Stella informed them, paddling past. “It’s science.”
Luke grinned at Meg. “I wanted to do that during your surf lessons. Every lesson. Especially that time you got so frustrated you threw your board at me.”
“I didn’t throw it. I... aggressively released it.”
“Into my face.”
“Details.” Meg was blushing now. “Why didn’t you?”
“You were eighteen. I was twenty-two and trying to be professional.” He brushed wet hair from her face. “Plus your mom was usually watching from the beach with a book and terrifying sunglasses.”
“Smart man.”
“STILL GROSS!” Stella called out, now riding another wave. “STILL TRAUMATIZED!”
Tyler captured it all—Stella’s perfect form on the waves, Meg’s determined attempts, Luke’s patient instruction, and yes, even the kiss that had Stella fake-gagging from the lineup.
Other surfers began filtering in as the sun climbed higher. The usual dawn patrol crew.
“Hey, Tyler!” David from the surf shop paddled over. “This your daughter?”
“Yeah.” Tyler watched David’s eyes track Stella on a wave.
“She rips! Bondi style, right? You can always tell.” Andrew seemed to lose his train of thought as Stella executed a particularly nice cutback. “Very... very cool.”
Tyler made a mental note to have a conversation with Andrew about... something. He wasn’t sure what. Appropriate viewing distances? The concept seemed both necessary and impossible.
Another set rolled through. Tyler got back to shooting, capturing the whole sequence—Stella’s takeoff, her bottom turn, the way she read the section perfectly. His lens also caught Tom from the café in the background, paddling for the same wave but pulling back when he saw Stella already on it. Except Tom kept watching instead of setting up for the next one, nearly getting cleaned up by the whitewater.
“Did that guy just pearldive watching you?” Stella asked, paddling back out past Tyler.
“Seemed like it,” Tyler said carefully.
“Kook,” she said dismissively, but Tyler caught her small smile.
By eight, they were all properly surfed out. Meg had progressed from three-second rides to five-second rides, which Luke declared a “two-hundred percent improvement.”
“Math genius,” Meg said, wringing out her hair. “This is why you teach biology.”
“This is why I teach biology with visual aids,” Luke agreed.
“The light’s completely different here,” Stella said as they walked back up the beach. “Softer than Sydney. Less harsh.”
“Golden hour lasts longer,” Tyler agreed. “Something about the marine layer.”
“Could you show me the technical stuff? Like with your camera?” She gestured at his gear. “I’ve been reading about the exposure triangle but actual practice would help.”
Tyler’s chest tightened. His daughter wanted to learn photography. From him. “Yeah, absolutely. We could start with basics—aperture, shutter speed, ISO.”
“Tomorrow?” she asked. “Same time but for photography?”
“Perfect.”
“I’m sleeping in,” Meg announced. “One dawn activity per week is my limit.”
