Page 14 of River
“Yeah, and this is my roommate, Peter.”
The two men shook hands while my head turned to the water, where River had spotted us. We held eye contact, but I couldn’t tell if she was happy to see me.
“I’m just gonna go say hi to River,” I said and walked toward her. River told the children something, and they all turned to see me.
I raised my free hand and smiled. “Hey, kids.”
Several of them came closer to see my surfboard, and so I placed it on the sand for them to investigate while I moved closer to River, who stood in water to her knees.
“Is this your first visit to Bali?”
“Mhmm.”
A sound from the children made me turn my head to see what they were doing with my surfboard, and I saw one of them standing on top, imitating surfing while the others laughed. When I swung my head back to River, I caught her looking at my abs. Or was it my crotch? In an automatic reaction, I looked down to see if something was off, but everything looked normal.
I detected a bit of rose color in her cheeks when she walked out of the water and right past me.
God, the woman was a divine sight in her black bikini, and my eyes were glued to her fine ass as she walked away.
“Who wants to learn how to surf?” I asked the kids, and the two oldest boys lit up and reached their hands in the air.
Peter was a sport, and we spent an hour with the two boys, teaching them to find their balance. I liked how stubborn they were and how they kept going, even though it was difficult.
After an hour, we decided that Peter would take the oldest boy, Eas, out to try and catch some waves. I lent the boy my surfboard and went to sit on the beach with the others for a while.
“That was nice of you,” River said from behind me.
I turned. “What?”
“To lend him your board.”
“Thanks.” I turned back to watch Peter and the boy.
“Is it dangerous?”
“To surf?”
“Yes. Should I worry about Eas?”
“No, he’ll be fine. Peter works as an instructor. He knows what he’s doing.”
“Where’s Peter from?”
“Oregon.”
“And you?” She came to sit next to me, watching the youngest children playing in the shallow part of the beach with Maximum. “Where are you from?”
“Take a guess.”
“You sound American, but I suppose you could be Canadian as well.”
“Don’t get fooled by my accent. I went to an International School and had American teachers, but my passport says that I’m Norwegian.”
River widened her eyes. “Wow, I didn’t expect that. I don’t think I’ve ever met someone from Norway, but I always imagined they would have blue eyes and blond hair just like the Vikings.”
I laughed. “My dark hair and brown eyes are due to my father, who was from a family of Italian immigrants.”
“So where does the name Parker come from? It doesn’t sound Norwegian or Italian.”
