Logan eyes me with a hint of approval. “Really? All right. Fine. Good choice. Now, start singing it.”
“Excuse me?” I have the worst singing voice in the world. I don’t even sing in the shower, since all it does is just amplify my horribleness.
“Start singing ‘Kashmir.’ Not in your head. Out loud.”
“You are so fucking with me,” I say, glaring at him over my shoulder. His face gives me nothing. “It’s an eight-minute song! How long is this wave?”
“I promise it will help you surf.”
“How? I’ll be trying to remember the lyrics.”
“If it’s your favorite song, it will come automatically. And when it comes automatically, your mind is free to latch onto something else. Surfing. You’ll relax, you’ll stop overthinking. Not to mention there’s a natural rhythm to the ocean and I promise you it will match up with the song.”
That all sounds like complete bullshit.
“Are you ready?”
“What? No.” I look behind me again to see the swells approaching.
“You’re catching this next one,” he says calmly. “I’m going to push you forward to give you momentum. Start paddling and start signing. Now!”
“At the intro of the song or—?”
“Oh let the sun beat down upon my face,” Logan starts singing loudly and hell, can this man sing. His impression of Robert Plant is eerily accurate. “Your turn!” he yells and I feel him start to push me through the water.
“Um, um,” I say, paddling before I find the strength in my chest and croak out, “Stars will fill my dreams.”
“Feel the song, keep singing,” he yells and let’s go of the board. “Get to your feet when you’re keeping time with the wave.”
“I am a travel of both time and space,” I sing, horribly, and the board starts picking up more and more speed. “Be where I have been.”
By the time I get to elders of a gentle race, I can feel it’s time to ride. I’m not sure if it’s the song or instinct but I can just tell. I push up off my hands and toes, get to my knees.
Here’s the scary part. I’m slicing through the water, riding this fucking wave and feeling I’m on top of the world. I could just ride the whole wave to shore on my knees and it would be fun and thrilling all on its own.
It’s that next step that scares me. It’s the risk of standing up. Of giving up what’s easy and trying something hard. It’s where I’ve failed every time before.
“Don’t be comfortable!” Logan’s voice is small, disappearing behind me. “You’re doing this!”
I’ve lost my place in the song. It doesn’t matter. “Ooooh, I’ve been flying, ain’t no denying,” I sing, “no denying.”
And I don’t deny. I fly.
I get up onto my feet, inch by inch, but I make it.
My legs are shaking, I can feel the ocean rushing beneath my feet.
And just like that, I’m surfing. I really am a traveler of both time and space.
I’m powerful, unstoppable.
Free.
It’s just me and the ocean, an ever-deepening connection to some part of nature, some part of me, that I’ve never felt before.
And then, it’s over.
The wave gently places me on the shore, like I’m being carried in the ocean’s hand.
The board skids along the sand for a few feet and then stops. I hop off.
I did it!
A let out a little yelp, throwing my hands into the air and doing a little dance. My smile is so wide, it’s hurting my cheeks and the pain is absolutely beautiful.
“Look at you,” Logan calls out to me, as he walks out of the surf. I feel so high, my adrenaline firing through my veins, that it doesn’t even bother me that I’m ogling his body once more. If you saw his hulking mass of muscles walk out of the ocean, dripping wet, his hair slicked back, you would do the same.
“I did it!” I cry out. “Yay me!”
He walks right over to me and stops a couple feet away. Close enough for me to see the tick of his pulse along his throat, the drops of water caught in his scruffy beard. Close enough for my already fired-up body to start overreacting, my heart picking up the pace even more.
“You did good,” he says, peering down at me with an intensity I feel burning in my gut. His voice is rough and low, like he’s telling me a secret. “I knew you would.”
I smile up at him, my lips feeling stiff now. I’m happy, so happy, that I finally was able to catch a wave. But it was because of Logan. I owe him now and I’m not sure I like that.
And there’s too much of his manly masculinity standing in close proximity to me.
“Well, I’m sorry you had to hear me sing,” I say quietly, looking away.
“Are you kidding me?” he says. “That was the best part. I had no idea you were that horrible at it. Suspected, but never knew.”
I snap my head back to him and playfully hit him across the chest. “Hey!” I admonish him, trying to ignore how hard his chest had felt under my hand. “Why don’t you get on the damn board and sing me some ‘Purple Rain?’”
“Maybe some other time, Freckles,” he says. We stare at each other for a few moments. It’s like he’s actually trying to count the freckles on my nose. I’m not even sure I’m breathing, I’m kind of lost in the space between us.