Page 21 of The Making of Jonty Bloom
“We’re coming out of the rip,” he muttered. “I can feel the pull fading. That’s the good news.” He shuddered. “The bad is…we’re miles out…and the waves are big. Don’t let go…of the board or me.”
“Down now!” Devan shouted.
Jonty grabbed the board and forced the head down. Not quite fast enough. He hadn’t been paying attention. The sea poured into his mouth.Fuck, fuck, fuck! I don’t want to fucking drown. Not now that Mr Impossible was mellowing.Jonty was turned and twisted by the water until he didn’t know which way was up, which way was down. When he finally surfaced, he could see no sign of Devan—and the waves were huge.
Chapter Five
DEVAN SPUN IN A CIRCLE, but there was no sign of Jonty or even his board. Where the hell…? The surge of fear and panic flooding through him was so overwhelming, that, for a moment, his lungs locked. Too much time spent chattering and not enough on trying to save themselves. Rips were unpredictable, dangerous, and deadly. He’d been grabbed by them before, though never by one as powerful as this. The only reason Jonty had been caught this time was because he’d come to warn him.After the way Devan had snapped this morning, he shouldn’t have expected help, yet Jonty had paddled out to him when he could have stayed safe.
It was pointless shouting, but Devan did it anyway, yelling Jonty’s name, turning in circles. The waves seemed to be getting bigger. When Devan finally saw him, his heart started beating again. But Jonty was off his board, limp in the water. Devan swam faster. Just as he reached him, Jonty slipped beneath the surface. Devan reached out, scarcely able to believe it when his fingers wrapped around Jonty’s forearm. Then they were both pushed under and Devan tightened his hold. He surfaced first, and yanked Jonty up next to him. Jonty’s face was deathly white and water poured from his nose and mouth. Devan thumped him on the back.
“Shit,” Jonty gasped.
Another wave rolled over their heads and Jonty slipped from his grip.Fuck!They had to get out of these breaking waves or they were going to drown. While neither of them had control of the board, it could smash into them and Jonty was in more danger, because he was still attached to it. If Jonty lost consciousness, Devan wasn’t sure he could keep him afloat. He wasn’t sure if he could keep himself afloat. The idea that they might not make it began to seem a possibility.
Devan came back up, saw the board, then caught sight of Jonty’s white hair and hauled him to his side. The guy was coughing, choking, and Devan thumped him on the back again.
“Jesus,” Jonty spluttered. “Beating me up…not sexy.”
Relief surged. “I thought you were drinking too much. It’s bad for you.”
Jonty’s blue eyes widened. “Oh my God.” He coughed. “A joke. Are we dead?”
“Not yet. Let’s aim for Norway.”
“Another joke?”
“Duck!”
Devan pushed him under. They couldn’t keep doing this. The moment they surfaced, Devan grabbed the board with one hand, Jonty’s arm with the other. By the time they were no longer getting pushed under by breaking waves, they were exhausted, their breathing ragged, their fingers as white as the surfboard they clutched. Safer, but nowhere near safe. The severity of the situation had finally sunk in. Devan was shocked to feel…not fear or anger sweeping over him but something that felt a little too much like calm acceptance. They’d done what they could. Now they had to wait and hope.
“Any…more…jokes?” Jonty asked.
“No.”
“You’re…no fun.”
“Not while I’m trying to keep us alive.”
“Any ideas on how?”
“No.”
“Are you…a hotel inspector?”
“What is this? Twenty questions?”
Jonty’s eyes kept fluttering closed. He seemed close to unconsciousness.
“Wake up.” Devan shook him.
“Don’t be mean… Are you like this in bed? I’m tired.”
“You need to stay awake.”
“I don’t want to die.”
“We’re not going to.”
