Page 42 of Whispers on the Water

It’s refreshing, and my mood lifts again. A student who doesn’t stare; maybe he’ll actually learn something beyond my measurements while we’re out.

Selecting boards, I grab Banana and Ruby. The Banana is our most trustworthy surfboard. Tilly always jokes that it’s the cruise ship of foam boards. Ten people could be on the top, but it still wouldn’t flip. With quick movements, I grab a fresh bar of warm water foam-safe wax. As I open it, the sharp scent of coconut wafts up. My grin grows. Yes, it’s going to be a great day. I’m still busily waxing both boards when he comes out looking unsure in the tight shorts. The tightness is on purpose. Surfing in any loose clothing is a mistake; it weighs people down in the water.

“Ready?” I ask. He nods, and I point to the Banana. “That’s yours. As unsinkable as the Titanic.” I chuckle at my awful joke, but he only winces. Not into dark humor, got it. He picks it up awkwardly, like a toddler with a giant, too full bowl of soup. Oof. Guy isn’t exactly screaming out athlete of the year. But this is why I’m a professional.

He juggles the board, dropping it a few times. “Uh, Sam?” he asks behind me.

I glance over my shoulder. “Yes?”

He stops walking and takes a breath. “Um, this is a little embarrassing, but…” he stares at the surfboard, his face pale. His gaze suddenly snaps my way. “Are there sharks?”

I stifle my laugh. Good ole shark question. Thankfully, I have just the comeback. “There are, but we have a little agreement.” I wave for him to come closer, and he does, looking a little bit north of about to vomit. “They don’t bite me, I don’t bite them.” I’m expecting a laugh or at least a smile but he only looks more confused.

“You have a contract…with the sharks?”

I nod, pride making me puff my chest out a bit. “I made them an offer they couldn’t refuse,” I say in my best godfather voice before adding in my normal tone, “Though they didn’t seem particularly scared of my threat to make them sleep with the fishes.”

His head recoils like I’ve slapped him across the face. What the hell? I think I’m pretty funny and this joke has killed every other time I tell it.

I roll my eyes. “Dude, sharks won’t bug us. Let’s just go.” Before he has time to argue, I turn around and start jogging towards the water. If he doesn’t have a sense of humor, this is going to be a very long lesson.

***

An hour after starting, Benito catches waves like a pro. Once I figured out his learning style—exact direction with exactly zero sarcasm or joking—he actually did pretty well. I tell him he can hang onto the Banana board for another thirty minutes while I head back to open the bar. Walking in, I see Greg and Tilly already there, burgers in hand. I place my board down and join them.

“Hey babe,” Tilly greets me, her voice dripping with playful sarcasm.

Greg gives her a mock scowl. “She always has to be first to say hello,” he grumbles.

I lean in to kiss Greg’s cheek, my damp hair probably leaving a bit of the ocean on him. “Yes, but I’m not sleeping with Tilly. So let her have this.”

“Not yet,” Tilly quips back, and we all share a laugh over an old joke about how close we are. Tilly passes me a burger, and I start eating. I am famished from the surf session, even though it’s only a little after ten in the morning.

“How was it?” Tilly asks.

I continue chewing, savoring the delicious, greasy meal. “Dude’s a natural. We might get a sale out of this.” Tilly lights up at that; she’s always been the charm when it comes to selling boards. The commission is nothing too spectacular, but it’s better than nothing. Whenever possible, I let her take the lead. I’m not much of a salesperson. Take it or leave it; I don’t really give a fuck. I can’t be bothered to persuade people they need something.

The rest of our lunch is a comfortable mix of silence and light conversation. When Benito walks in later, board underarm, all eyes turn. Tilly’s already off her stool, hips swaying a bit extra, and I suppress a laugh. Another good reason she takes these sorts of tasks is her ability to use her body to her benefit. I haven’t quite learned that particular trick, nor do I want to. Nothing against her; it’s just not my style.

“Who the hell is that?” Greg barks out under his breath. The tone surprises me. On any given day, half a dozen men come in and out of the surf shop for lessons far more often than women, though I don’t exactly know why. Greg’s never shown any jealousy before.

“My early lesson. That’s Benito,” I nudge his shoulder. “Oh, are you jealous? Look out random tourist, my boyfriend has already peed all around me.” Usually, at any of my jokes, Greg is on me like a leech; nibbling, sucking, kissing, and teasing. Seriously, the guy is almost more turned on by humor than my naked body. Almost. But he makes no move. Odd.

Benito’s gaze isn’t on Tilly’s attempts at flirting; he’s locked on Greg, an unspoken question in his look. “Do you know him?” I ask Greg, puzzled by the sudden charge in the air.

“No,” he answers too quickly, still tense.

Tilly’s laughter with Benito pulls my attention away for a moment. When he buys a board and waves goodbye, Tilly’s practically dancing back to us, a victorious hum in her voice. “He asked me to dinner, and I said yes.”

I lean in, thrilled for her. “Really?” This is huge for Tilly after everything with Tommy.

But Greg’s not on board. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Til.”

“Why the hell not?” I snap, surprised by his reaction.

“She barely knows him! What if he’s some kind of creep?” he asks. But there’s something in his face, an expression I can’t read. All I really know is that he’s holding something back.

“Oh sure because every surfer who buys a board is also a secret serial killer.” Greg’s eyes darken and I’m so fucking confused. “Greg, you can’t be serious. I spent an hour with him, and he never stared at my ass even once. Something even you can’t manage, by the way.”

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