Page 19 of The Ex-cavenger Hunt

Chapter Eleven

Lily

The morning dawns bright and early, waves crashing against the shore with rhythmic certainty as Ethan and I arrive. Not sure how, but he has wet suits, boards, and everything we need for this morning. We wriggle into wet suits that cling like second skin, and I can’t help but feel a little self-conscious as I tug at the snug material.

“I’m almost positive that I look like a seal,” I confess, my nose wrinkling as I catch a glimpse of myself in the reflection of a nearby car window.

“A very good-looking seal, Harper,” Ethan teases. I stick out my tongue, the coastline’s cool breeze tossing my hair into disarray before I put it up into a messy bun.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” I laugh, picking up the board and gripping it under one arm, the foam beneath my fingers both foreign and familiar. My heart races with a mixture of excitement and nerves as we make our way toward the water’s edge.

“The rules are pretty simple. Chin up, strong core, and ride it out. Just trust yourself. I believe in you,” Ethan says, his voice calm and assured as he demonstrates the proper stance.

“Got it, Coach,” I say, a little breathless. He looks so hot, commanding, and I find myself momentarily distracted by the way his wet suit hugs his muscular frame.

We walk into the water, the cool waves lapping at our ankles, then our knees, and finally our waists. I shiver, partly from the chill and partly from the thrill of what’s to come. We paddle out, leaving the shore behind us, and I feel a sense of freedom wash over me as we rise and fall with the swells.

“It’s about the waves, the thrill, the sheer joy of being alive and kicking at the edge of the world,” Ethan says, his eyes bright with passion as we prepare to catch the first wave.

As the wave lifts me, I feel a rush of adrenaline coursing through my veins. I pop up, my feet finding purchase on the board, and—I recall Ethan’s words and his belief in me—for a moment, I’m flying. The wind whips through my hair, the spray of the ocean misting my face, and I let out a whoop of pure joy. It’s just me and the ocean—vast, unpredictable, and utterly exhilarating.

“Look at you go,” Ethan’s voice carries over the water, his figure blurry but his enthusiasm crystal clear. I grin, my cheeks aching from the sheer force of my smile, and I know that this moment will be etched in my memory forever.

The wave carries me back to shore, and I feel a sense of accomplishment and a new appreciation for the power of the ocean. I stumble off the board, my legs wobbly but my spirit soaring. The adrenaline coursing through my veins is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced, and I can’t help but laugh, a sound of pure, unadulterated joy.

The sun is throwing its morning glory, splashing the sky with outrageous pinks and oranges as we make our way across the sand. I wish I had a canvas to paint them—maybe even include the silhouette of Ethan surfing along the sea. The colors are so vivid, so alive, and I feel a sudden urge to capture this moment, to hold onto it forever.

And as we make our way back to shore, I can’t shake the feeling that this is just the beginning of something I never saw coming.

I’ve got my board under one arm. Ethan beside me with his own, looking like an ad ripped straight out of ‘Surfer’s Monthly.’ His sun-kissed skin glistens with saltwater, and his hair is tousled by the wind. I’m half-excited, half-terrified—like I’m on the edge of a cliff dive.

“Are you done?” I ask.

“I could go for another round, but I don’t want to leave you,” Ethan says in that rough, yet sweet tone that he sometimes uses with me.

I shush him. “Go.”

Soon enough, he’s back in the water. He turns, catching my eye, and shoots me a grin that’s equal parts cocky and charming. I feel my cheeks heat up, and I quickly look away, suddenly fascinated by the sand beneath my feet. He’s out there, slicing through a wave with the grace of someone born on the water.

The sight of him sends my heart into overdrive, and I find myself staring, my mouth slightly agape. It’s not just the way he moves with the surf, all ease and power—it’s the confidence that seems to radiate off him. He’s in his element, completely at home in the ocean, and I can’t help but be drawn to him.

But even as I try to focus on something else, my mind keeps drifting back to Ethan. There’s something about him, something that both thrills and terrifies me.

I’m tugging at the zipper of my wet suit, still buzzing from the thrill of the waves. Once he’s out of the water, he comes running toward me and I stand. Board in hand, water dripping . . . I want to . . . sit down because I’m seriously getting too excited for this guy.

“Did you see that last wave?” Ethan’s voice is laced with exhilaration, his eyes bright like the foam-topped swells we’ve left behind. He’s practically bouncing on his feet, the energy radiating off him in palpable waves.

“Hard to miss when you were whooping like a kid on a roller coaster,” I tease, trying not to notice how hot he looks right now as he’s taking off the upper part of his wet suit. The saltwater has curled his hair, his eyes crinkling and that sculpted torso. Hard ridges, tattoos . . . He’s just breathtaking.

“Pure joy, Lily. That’s what that sound was.” He grins, stretching his arms over his head, looking every bit the self-made man who’s found success in embracing life’s peaks and troughs. Also, looking like a man with the perfect body that just wants to be licked.

He takes a seat next to me. We let silence settle between us, just for a moment. I pull my knees to my chest, wrapping my arms around them, letting the colors wash over me. It’s beautiful, ethereal almost, and in this quiet interlude, my heart takes stock of this day and our trip. I feel a lump form in my throat, but for once, it’s not from sadness or regret.

“What are you thinking about?” Ethan asks softly, breaking through the silence. His voice is gentle, almost reverent, as if he knows he’s treading on sacred ground.

“It’s funny how the ocean can both churn up the past and smooth it into something bearable,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper. I turn to look at him, my eyes searching his, hoping he understands.

“Like sea glass,” Ethan muses, his gaze never leaving the horizon. “Rough edges worn away until all that’s left is something beautiful.”

---