Page 130 of Tides That Bind

“Don’t get used to it.”

I pull off my clothes, shimmying into the thick, lycra fabric. By the time I get it up my body, Harper has barely managed to pull her wetsuit halfway up her legs. I come up behind her, grabbing the bunched fabric and lift her off the ground. She yelps and giggles, but her body falls in.

“Come on.”

I take a longboard we hardly ever use from behind the desk.

“What about the tandem board?” Harper asks when I walk past.

“I didn’t say we were practicing.”

When we make it outside, the sun has just begun to rise behind us, but the water is still dark.

Harper tugs on my hand. “Riley…” she whispers nervously.

“Do you trust me?” I ask. My eyes shift to the scene behind her, growing lighter by the minute.

Not answering, Harper takes a deep breath and steps forward and we make our way to the shore. She jumps when the tide sweeps over her feet.

“It’s cold. Don’t get in yet.” I don’t want her getting any colder than she has to be. I let go of her hand and continue forward, waiting for a break so I can get the board out. Holding it steady, I look back to Harper and wave. “Run, just get on.”

Harper hops through the crashing surf. “It’s not cold,” she tells me. “It’sfreezing.”

This is something you just get used to when your favorite place is the ocean. Because the perfect wave never waits, especially for the perfect temperature.

I hold the board steady so she can climb on it. “Scoot forward.”

I wait until she’s closer to the front of the board before I begin to push it deeper.

Harper whips her head around. “You’re not leaving me out here alone, are you?”

A wave pushes the board up and I let it do the same with me, leveraging myself behind her. “Never.”

“I don’t get it,” Harper says. Even though it’s cold, she follows my lead and begins to paddle. “Why didn’t we take the other board?”

“Because we aren’t here for the tricks. We’re here for the magic.” I stretch my neck, my lips grazing her cheek. “And I like the tighter fit.”

“What am I supposed to do?” Harper asks after helping meturn the board to face the shore. The sun has finally risen, casting rays on the beach, but the water we float in is still dark.

I peak over my shoulder, waiting for a moment.

“Just trust me,” I say, bringing my head back. I lift my arm from the water and give her hand a squeeze before we begin to paddle. I can feel how tense she is. “All you have to do is stand up.”

The pull of the wave back tells me it’s almost time.

“Now,” I say. “Pop up.”

We have to be somewhat in sync to not topple over, but after weeks of practicing on the tandem board, standing together at the right time is the easiest thing in the world.

Harper is used to riding waves. But what she hasn’t done is rideinone.

I bring my left arm down, pressing it against her stomach so she leans closer into me, and raise my voice to make sure she hears me. “You’re going to want to crouch down a little.”

“What?” Harper asks, and it’s that moment I bear down, using my hips. Instead of heading toward the shore, we’re now parallel to it.

And there it is, the hollow-faced doorway that opens before the swell breaks. The barrel is the heart of the wave, the most beautiful part that makes you feel—for just a few seconds—like you can breathe underwater.

Harper’s hand finds mine on her stomach as we make it through the opening.

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