Page 68 of Reckless Hearts

He hands me a mask, and then we both put our fins on. Stepping to the side of the boat, Flynn goes in first, and I follow.

As soon as we hit the water, the sea life scatters, scampering off in all directions, but we both know if we wait, they will return.

And return they do. Within five minutes, the area is filled with rays and colorful fish, dodging and weaving around us. Coral clings to the rocks, muted in spots and colorful in others, and Flynn points out a turtle swimming casually below us.

We flutter along, our fins barely moving as we float in the water. The view is just gorgeous, and the sea life is calm and natural, making the experience even more perfect.

And that’s when I see it, its eight legs dancing through the water as if it were following the beat of a song.

Flynn has his back to me, and I make my way to him, taking his arm. I point, and I see his eyes go wide. He gives me a thumbs up, and we stay here, watching it.

It’s not often you see a day octopus in the waters of Maui, despite being native. They tend to shy away from areas with crowds, and not just that, it depends on the time of year too.

We got lucky, and I can’t help but think I got lucky when I met Flynn too.

We snorkel for another hour or so before climbing back onto the boat to have something to eat. It’s still early, and the water is calm. As I look out around us, it’s hard to not feel like we’re the only people on Earth, the ocean empty.

“What’d you think?” I ask as I open the cooler, pulling out a couple of sandwiches and some fruit I packed.

“It was fucking epic. I’ve never seen an octopus. It almost looked fake,” Flynn says, reaching for a strawberry.

“It does. I remember thinking that the first time I saw one too. Almost like they’re made of rubber. I don’t know,” I say, laughing.

“Kinda does.”

“Hawaiians have a saying about the octopus,” I tell him. “Pua ke ko, ku mai ka he‘e. It means when the sugarcane flowers, the octopus appear. So, it means that fishermen should be out on the water to catch octopus when farmers are harvesting sugarcane.”

“Does the sugarcane need to be harvested now?” he asks me, and I shake my head.

“No, that usually happens in November, so I think we just got lucky. That particular octopus wanted to put on a good show for the tourist,” I tease.

“It did a damn good job.”

We sit in a comfortable silence for a few minutes, each of us eating, quelling the hunger we built up while snorkeling.

Picking up my water bottle, I take a drink, watching Flynn as he looks out on the water. His face is relaxed, a calmness to him that only seems to be present when we’re alone. And I love that.

“Tell me about your first world championship,” I now say, and he turns to look at me, his eyes sparkling in the sunshine, his tanned skin glistening with tiny beads of water.

He looks like the kind of guy you’d see in a surfing magazine as he runs his hand through his thick, brown hair. It’s messed up in a way that’s still perfect, and it reminds me of the way he looks after we’ve fucked. Disheveled and tousled, but expertly mussed. Sex looks good on him. And we haven’t even had sex today, but now I want to.

Not on the Luna Mae!

Again!

“It was unreal. I was still so young. I couldn’t even believe it happened. You know how surfing is like fifty percent skill and fifty percent luck?” he questions, and I nod.

I know exactly what he’s talking about. Sometimes the waves don’t cooperate or even if they do, everything you do has to be spot-on, perfect. One minor slip up can make it all come crashing down.

“That day it was one hundred percent luck,” he says, closing his eyes. He smiles. “I’m serious. The waves were shit, and I hadn’t caught anything worth more than a four. The time was counting down, and the heat was almost over.” He lets outa hard sigh. “And then out of fucking nowhere, this big arse motherfucker rolls in. You could hear the crowd, like a rumble of thunder, the noise was insane. They could see it building, and the excitement set the damn place on fire.”

As he tells the story, I feel like I’m there. I know that sound, the din of the crowd over the sound of the waves. It’s one of those things that feels unreal, but it vibrates through your body, encouraging you on.

“And I barreled that fucker. Rode it all the way in. It was the first time I ever got a perfect score. Three tens and one nine and a half.”

I can tell by the look on his face that he’s never been prouder of himself. And rightfully so. It was the first time he became a world champion, something that could be pretty much unattainable for even the most prolific surfers.

“I think my parents were more excited than I was. I’ve never seen my dad jump like that. It was hilarious and my mom was there sobbing her eyes out,” Flynn explains, a smile on his face that’s so wide his eyes crinkle up in the corners. “They didn’t even know I had won at that point. They were just so excited.”

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