Page 60 of From Now On

“Because you have more common sense than Phillips, and this is where he’s suggesting.”

“Fuck you, Hart,” Aidan says. “I’m also the only one withsurfing experience.”

Conor rolls his eyes, waiting for Hunter’s assessment.

Aidan glances at Hunter too. “What do you think, Morgan?”

I think most people would assume Conor is the leader of any group he’s part of. He was the hockey team’s captain. He’s the guy on campus everyone knows—the one girls want to be with and guys want to be. He has that presence people take note of.

But I’ve noticed, since we arrived, that Hunter gets looked to a lot. Or maybe I’m just projecting, becauseIlook to him a lot.

“Yeah, that spot seems good to me,” Hunter says.

“Great.” Conor takes his phone back, and then he and Aidan start discussing wetsuits. I guess some came with the rental.

Hunter doesn’t strike up our conversation again. But he does glance at me once, catch me staring at him, and smile.

And that full smile does more to cure my headache than those painkillers did.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

HUNTER

Wind whistles in my ears as I stare out at the water. The salty air blows my hair straight back and out of my face, which is actually convenient. I need a haircut. I kind of let it grow out once we hit the playoffs, more out of laziness than any sort of superstition. It’s reached that annoying length where it falls into my eyes half the time.

“Morgan! C’mere!”

I turn away from the ocean and toward Aidan. He’s spent the past fifteen minutes rubbing wax on the boards, supposedly so it’s easier to stand up. I appreciate the effort, but the repetitive motion is not very entertaining to watch. When I offered to help, he told me he had some special technique that couldn’t be taught.

I think he’s just enjoying being the “expert.”

The girls only stuck around for a few minutes, then set off on a walk. They’re three distant dots down the beach at this point. I can make out Harlow’s red hair and Rylan’s pink hat. But the figure I squint at is the one walking closest to the cliffs. Eve’s staring up, but I can’t make out her expression from here.

“Ready for the demonstration?” Aidan asks.

“Uh, sure,” I answer.

Conor looks equally cautious.

It’s not exactly sunbathing weather. It’s notcoldout—I’d guess the temperature is hovering in the fifties—but it’s definitely not warm enough for swimming to sound appealing. We’re all wearing wetsuits, so I’m not worried about hypothermia, but Iamworried this won’t be a pleasant experience.

We basically have the beach to ourselves. One older couple passed us by shortly after we arrived, and a middle-aged woman walking a Lab is approaching from the direction of the parking lot. If this reallyissome surfing hidden gem—like the article on Conor’s phone claimed—we came at the wrong time.

Aidan stands. “Okay, I waxed all the boards. So, if you can’t get up, it’s your fault, not the board’s. Make sure you’ve got the leash around your ankle.” Phillips wraps the black Velcro band around his ankle and then lies down flat on the surfboard. It must be about seven feet long, because it’s got more than a few inches on him. He slides closer to the back, head raised and back arched. “This is how you should paddle out. And this—” He suddenly leaps up to balance on the board. “Is how you should pop up to catch a wave.”

I glance at Hart, who’s studying Phillips’s movements closely. Conor’s crazy competitive, and Aidan has done this before, so I’m most likely going to be the only one bobbing out there like a buoy.

Phillips demonstrates how to stand on the board a few more times, then tells us to try it ourselves.

The pretend paddling part is easy. The wholepush up into standing with your arms out and knees bentaspect? Way harder. And this is on flat, solid ground. I doubt it is going to be any easier in the ocean.

“Let’s go!” Aidan is still as enthusiastic as he was when he proposed this outing yesterday. Aside from the hot tub, it’s the most animated I’ve seen him this entire trip.

For Phillips, I’ll fall on my ass in the ocean.

Aidan’s already claimed his board. I grab one of the remaining two, Conor takes the other, and we walk toward the ocean.

I haven’t been swimming since some trips to the pool last summer. The salt water is chilly enough to numb my feet almost instantly. I’m unsure if that’s a good or a bad thing, but I continue battling the surf after Conor and Aidan.

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