Page 26 of Keeping London (Flawed Heart)

“Let’s get our suits on, and we’ll go out,” he suggests.

“Great!”

Loïc’s love of surfing has officially rubbed off on me, like everything that he introduces me to does. I’m actually excited to get out there in the cold ocean and try to get up on an actual wave.

We suit up. Lying on our stomachs, we paddle out into the water. It’s a little chilly, but honestly, with the suit on, it’s not that bad. Once we’re out far enough, we paddle the boards around so that we’re facing the beach, and we wait for a wave. We’re not too far out from land. Loïc is starting me on little waves, which is definitely for the best.

“Paddle!” Loïc commands.

I listen as I swipe my arms through the water on the sides of my board.

“Up, London!” he yells.

I try to do exactly like I did on land.

The truth is, it is a hell of a lot harder to get up onto your board when you’re balancing on the water. I fall to the side, splashing into the ocean. Beneath the water, I swim upward until my head breaks the water’s surface, and I take a breath. Looking around, I see Loïc riding the wave toward the shore. Using more arms strength than I thought I had, I pull myself out of the water and onto the board. I wait while Loïc paddles back out toward me.

“I suck,” I say, defeated.

He laughs. “You don’t. Of course you weren’t going to get up on your first try. You’ll get there. Come on, let’s paddle back out and try it again.”

We repeat this process nine times, the outcome always the same as the first time. I’m exhausted. My entire body is screaming in pain as muscles I’ve never used weep for mercy. My arms shake from exertion, and my lungs burn. My cheeks are drenched with salt water—from the ocean or my own tears, I’m not sure. But I’m done. I’m definitely not a surfer.

I lay my head on my board, unable to pull my weak body atop it, and wait for Loïc to swim out to me.

“You okay?” he questions when he reaches me.

“I can’t do it again,” I whimper weakly.

“Baby, you can do it. I know you can.” Loïc’s voice is lined with amusement, but I’m too tired to care.

I’m sure I look like a sniffling wimp, and I’m cool with that as long as I can be finished with this surfing adventure.

“Can I go in?” I plead.

“Look at me, London.”

I lift my head from the board and stare into his beautiful blues. “You can do this. I know it. Let’s try it one more time, and promise me that you’ll give it everything you’ve got.”

“Okay.” I nod.

So, we repeat the process again, swimming out a little ways before turning our boards toward land.

Loïc tells me when to start paddling as the wave starts to build. Then, he yells, “Now!”

I grab ahold of the sides of the board and hoist my body up into a standing position. My feet land exactly where they should, and I stand with my arms out to my sides.

Oh my God, I’m doing it!

I manage to stay atop my board as the wave carries me toward shore. With my arms outstretched and the ocean breeze in my face, I feel like I’m flying. It’s the most incredible, freeing feeling in the world.

The board hits the beach, and I bend to remove the Velcro strap attached to my ankle.

I sprint toward Loïc and throw myself into his arms, wrapping my legs around his waist. “I did it! I did it! It was so amazing,” I screech as I cling to him.

His strong body shakes with laughter beneath mine, and he hugs me tight. “Awesome, right?”

“So awesome. I loved it.”

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