Page 12 of Ride By Your Side

“Try to hold back your excitement. It’s okay for you to smile and be happy every so often,” she says, casually shrugging.

“I don’t do that. I just don’t usually have any good reasons to smile.” I grumble, sitting up straighter as my hands tighten on the wheel. Okay, so maybe there are times where it feels weird to be happy, and like I need to hide it. It just tends to feel like the second something good happens in my life, it immediately gets taken away. I’ve long since learned to not let myself get excited about anything.

Much of my life has been filled with disappointment after disappointment, leading to the unwavering belief there’s no point in seeking happiness, since it never lasts for long anyway.

“Seeing the ocean for the first time is more than enough of a reason to smile,” she suggests. As we get closer and Veronica opens her window to let the ocean breeze drift in, I surprisingly find myself agreeing with her for once.

“Well, let’s just get there first and then I’ll decide what I really think,” I offer. While this feels like a bucket-list moment, from what I’ve heard, the Pacific Ocean gets pretty cold this time of year, not to mention the sand getting everywhere. Knowing my luck, this will be yet another disappointment in my life.

Thankfully, she doesn’t press the issue, and focuses instead on giving directions until we reach a parking lot by the water.

Veronica wastes no time, swiftly getting out of the car, lifting her feet one after the other to pull off her shoes, and tossing them into the sand as she runs toward the water.

Maybe it’s the fact that she took a nap, but I have nowhere near as much energy as she does. I take my time, stretching before following her out. Continuing to take my time, I undo my work boots, and remove my socks before carefully setting them aside and I follow her out onto the sand.

I’ve walked in a sandbox before and felt the sensation of the soft, grainy sand between my toes, but this sensation is truly unique, and like nothing I’ve ever experienced before. Between that, the warm salty breeze, and the sound of waves crashing, I can’t help it—I’m truly happy and very little could ruin this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

Veronica was right—this moment is everything.

7

Veronica

Thereisaspecialkind of magic in witnessing someone’s first encounter with the ocean. As the car got closer to our destination, I watched him slip into his usual Broody Bennett routine, but seeing him walk on the sand and feel it beneath his feet for the first time is truly awe-inspiring.

I wonder if this is like one of those moments that parents always brag about. The kind where they say Christmas is great, but you don’t truly get to experience the real magic of it all until you see it through the eyes of a young child. I’m not sure how true that is, but I have to say, if it’s anything like this, maybe they have a point.

While I can’t exactly remember my first trip to the ocean, I’ve seen the pictures of my parents holding my hands as they walked with me on the sand. I also remember all the other fun trips my family took as I got older, each of those memories holding a special place. But I have a feeling this trip will now hold the top spot in my heart from here on out.

He looks genuinely happy, something I’m not sure I’ve ever seen from him. Sure, it’s easy to tell that his smiles are hardly ever fake when he’s around Blair, but that’s been about it.

The beach isn’t completely deserted; a few random people are scattered about, but as the evening approaches and the temperature dips, I’m grateful for the chance to enjoy this moment with just the two of us in our own little area.

“So, are you actually going to put your feet in, or what?” I call out to him as I walk backward, feeling the cool, wet sand cling to my skin with each step as I near the water.

“I’m coming. I’m just—taking it all in.”

With a small nod and a smile fixed firmly in place, I watch him do just that. But for me, it’s him I can’t seem to take my eyes off of.

When he reaches me, he glances down at his jeans with a hint of regret, clearly weighing the battle between keeping them pristine and getting them wet. With a dramatic sigh, he bends and rolls them up over his muscular legs as high as they’ll go. I can’t help but feel a tiny pang of gratitude for my own foresight, having chosen a pair of orange and pink striped shorts, leaving most of my legs bare. Not to mention, I’d even taken an overly long shower the night before—most of which I’d spent in tears—and made sure to shave. Small victories!

“You know you didn’t have to wait for me,” he suggests as he stands, once again taking in the vast ocean in front of us.

“I get it, but experiences like this are always so much better when you have someone to share them with,” I admit, carefully leaving out the part about how I’ve been far more captivated by him, than the actual ocean.

He appears skeptical but shrugs, choosing not to call me out on it.

“Whatever you say,” he says before finally walking to the edge of the sand, where the first small wave breaks on the shore, only inches away from our bare toes.

“Come on,” I say, no longer able to stand his slow pace. I reach for his hand and yank him toward the water, just as another small wave breaks nearby, its foamy water skirting up and covering the tops of our feet.

It’s comical, as we both react to the shock of the cool water. I let out a loud screech while he intakes an audible breath of air as we jump back together.

“Shit, that’s cold.” He chuckles as we watch the water retreat back out to sea, before a new fresh wave comes barreling toward us. Luckily, we’re both a bit more prepared this time.

“Well, it’s still a bit early in the season for most people to want to swim, but don’t worry, you’ll get used to it,” I assure him. While a few other brave souls are in the water, the majority of the crowd is smart enough to enjoy the rest of the evening lounging on beach chairs and towels. “It’ll be even better tomorrow when we come earlier, while the sun’s still out.”

“I don’t know, this is pretty fucking cold. I don’t think I can handle much more than this,” he insists, just as a larger wave crashes in. We scramble to inch back, but the water splashes over us, soaking the rolled-up bottoms of his jeans.

---