Page 61 of From Now On

The slight resistance of waves rolling into shore stops at about waist level. Deep enough to climb on the board and switch to paddling. Both Aidan and Conor do, so I follow their lead.

At first, it’s fine. The farther we go out, the more my shoulders tire. Whatever weight exercises I’ve been doing don’t strengthen these muscles, I guess. I attempt to adjust, and there’s a sharp twinge in my shoulder. I slow down a little.

And then Aidan suddenly stops and sits up on his board, letting his feet dangle in the water. He slicks his hair back and out of his face, then glances back and me and Hart. “Isn’t thisawesome?”

I stop paddling too. My arms feel better as soon as I relax my muscles, but my shoulder still twinges.

It’s peaceful, I’ll admit. All you can hear this far out are the sounds of the sea. Seagulls cawing and wind blowing and the rhythm of water lapping against the boards. Any noises from the shore—voices or cars—are too distant to hear from here.

Conor paddles a little closer to us, then sits up too. He twists to look back toward the beach, appearing surprised by how far we came.

I am too. Makes me feel a little better about my sore arms.

“Most shark attacks involve surfers,” Conor says casually. “Sharks have shitty eyesight, and a human lying on a board looks just like a seal from way down there.” He nods at the textured surface of the water stretching around us.

I sit up. “What afunfact, Hart.”

He shrugs. “Harlow and I watched a Shark Week special a couple of weeks ago. It was pretty cool.”

“It would be cooler if you didn’t bring it up while we were in shark-infested waters,” I tell him.

Aidan shrugs. “I don’t think there are any sharks around here.”

“Right. Why would they be in theocean, where they live?” I ask sarcastically.

Conor laughs.

I glance around. There are no shark fins in sight, at least. “What do we do now?”

“Uh…” Aidan looks toward the horizon. “Wait for some waves?”

The water around us isn’t completely flat, but I wouldn’t say anything resembling a wave is anywhere in the immediate vicinity of our current location.

“Wait how long?” Conor questions.

“Until a wave comes. You can’t control nature, Hart.”

“How many times have you surfed, exactly?”

Aidan blows out an irritated sigh. “More times than you!”

“Well, yeah. I’veneverbeen surfing.”

“Does this even count as surfing?” I wonder. “We’re just floating, waiting for a shark to attack.”

“If one does, punch it in the nose,” Hart advises.

“What if I miss and my hand goes right in its mouth?” I wonder. “Is that still a deterrent, or helpful for the shark?”

“Guys,” Phillips whines. “Don’t be assholes and ruin this for me.”

Conor grins. “So we’re just supposed to sit here in silence?”

“Yes,” Aidan answers emphatically.

“You’regoing to sit here in silence?”

I share Conor’s skepticism. Aidan is—by far—the chattiest of the three of us. I can’t recall a time where we just sat quietly together. Even watching sports, he talks a lot.

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