Page 51 of Same Time Next Summer

“See?” he says. And we paddle back out.

I fall a bunch of times, but I don’t really care. I like the feel of the water on my skin. I like the feel of the sun warming me just enough that the water feels cold when I go under again. The soundtrack of the ocean is in my head, and it replaces my to-do list and my nagging fear of waltzing in a box. I can move however I want in the ocean. I’m completely free.

Wyatt paddles over to me. “You getting tired?”

“A little.” We’re on our stomachs, and he’s holding on to my board the way he used to, keeping us together. Out here on the water, it feels like we’re outside of time. We lock eyes, and in the actual world, this would have felt uncomfortable after a while. But out on the water, Wyatt and I are both the past and the present. I am the girl who wasn’t afraid of anything, all grown up without having been broken. I can feel the strength of that girl and I think he sees her. I don’t want to look away.

“I’m going to take one more,” he says finally, and lets go of my board. A wave comes and he glides right in. He seems to be able to feel the ocean beneath him and move along with its rhythm. It makes me think of our bodies together, and I push this thought away.

He’s getting out of the ocean and I want to follow him.My body is tired, but I take the next wave anyway. I’m not steady as I pop up, and then I am underwater, and I’m tumbling. My forehead scrapes something sharp in the sand and I wince in pain.See? This is what happens.My surfboard tugs at the leash on my ankle, and I’m too confused to stand up.

Wyatt grabs my arm and pulls me to standing. He quickly unleashes me from my board and puts his arms around me. I’m catching my breath as I lean into him, my head on his shoulder.

“You okay?” he asks, gathering my hair into a ponytail and wringing it out.

“I think so,” I say. I don’t want to get out of the ocean.

He pulls away and looks at me. “You’re bleeding.”

My hand flies up to my forehead, where I felt something sharp.

“Don’t touch it. It’s not that bad. Let me just rinse it with some salt water and cover it up. You okay to walk?”

“I’m fine, just disoriented from the water. Or reoriented. I don’t know.”

Wyatt grabs my board and takes my hand to lead me. “Please don’t start talking crazy.”

I laugh. I walk slowly because I’m a little dizzy, but also because I want to memorize this moment—the feel of Wyatt’s hand in mine, the water at my ankles. The ocean floor is soft beneath my feet and the sun warms my back. My senses record every second of it.

Wyatt lays out our towels and shakes out his gray T-shirt. I sit down and he kneels over me, carefully folding the T-shirt and pressing it on my wound. His face is abovemine and his bare chest fills my line of sight. I wonder why it’s socially appropriate for people to wear so little when they are on the beach.

“I have no idea what I’m doing, by the way,” he says.

“This all seems very professional to me.”

He pulls the T-shirt away. “It’s not too bad, the bleeding stopped.” He sits back down on his towel, putting some space between us. We lean back on our elbows at the same time, stretching our legs out in front of us. It is shocking how undressed we are.

I say, “Have you ever thought about how much time we spent sitting together in our bathing suits growing up?”

“We lived at the beach.”

“And we were half-naked all day. The two of us alone down at the cove all the time. I’m surprised it didn’t happen a lot sooner.”

Wyatt smiles at me. “It happened a lot sooner for me. I was just waiting for you to give me a sign.”

“I gave you a million signs.”

He looks back at the water. “I wanted to be sure. I had a lot to lose.”

“I know.” I have no idea why I brought this up. We’re quiet now; all the lightness has been sucked back into the ocean.

“I’m really sorry I hurt you,” he says finally.

I don’t say anything.

“I think you can imagine what a mess I’d have to have been to walk away from what we had.”

I sit all the way up so that I can fold into my knees. “I could have helped you.”

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