Page 103 of Guys Can't Write Romance
Daisy hugged her arms around herself, eyeing the surfboard stuck upright in the sand like it might bite her. She had her hair pulled back in a tight ponytail, and enough sunscreen on to protect a family of four. But she still hadn’t mustered up the courage to take off her shorts and T-shirt.
“You look like you’re about to face a firing squad,” Chad said, stepping up beside her with two cups of coffee. He wore board shorts and nothing else, his bare chest still slightly damp from an earlier swim. Not that Daisy was looking or anything.
Daisy accepted the coffee gratefully, surprised at the warmth that spread through her chest when she took a sip and found thathe had prepared it exactly the way she liked — one sugar, splash of cream. “Is it that obvious that I’m terrified?”
“Only to someone who’s seen that exact expression on a hundred first-timers.” He nudged her shoulder playfully. “Relax, Fields. I’m not gonna let you drown.”
“It’s not drowning I’m worried about,” Daisy muttered, taking another sip of the coffee. “It’s public humiliation. Or sharks. Or public humiliation while being eaten by sharks.”
Chad laughed, the sound comforting and reassuring in the quiet morning. “First, there hasn’t been a shark attack here in decades. Second, there’s no one around to witness any potential humiliation. And third, sharks hate the taste of first-grade teachers. Too much chalk in their fingernails.”
Despite herself, Daisy smiled. “You’re making that up.”
“Probably,” Chad admitted with a grin. “But it got you to smile, which was the whole point. You ready to get started?”
She took a breath. “Yeah.”
She set down her bag and slid out of her T-shirt and shorts, carefully placing them in the bag to avoid getting them sandy. As she turned to face Chad, any insecurities she had earlier that morning about Chad seeing her in a swimsuit vanished.
“Wow!” he stammered, and the admiration in his eyes was almost comical. He was like a teenage boy seeing a girl for the first time. “That just made waking up this early worth it.”
Despite the slight chill in the air, a warmth filled her cheeks. “No making me blush this early,” she said with a smile. And she loved Chad all the more for making her smile twice already that morning; the day when she never smiled.
Chad pulled his surfboard from the sand and laid it flat on the beach. The board was longer and wider than what Chad usually rode, a beginner’s board he’d borrowed from a friend.
“Okay, Fields, surfing 101,” he announced, patting the board. “Before we hit the water, we practice on land. Lie down, belly on the board, just like you’re paddling.”
Daisy looked dubiously at the sand-covered board, then at her clean swimsuit.
“Come on, neat freak,” Chad teased. “A little sand never hurt anyone.”
With a sigh, Daisy carefully positioned herself on the board, stretching out as Chad had demonstrated.
“Good,” he said, walking around to examine her form. “Arch your back a little more… yeah, like that. Feet together, toes pointed.”
His hands made small adjustments to her position, gentle but confident touches that sent unexpected shivers up her spine despite the morning chill.
“Now for the pop-up,” Chad continued, oblivious to her reaction. “When you feel the wave catch, you’re going to push up with your arms, like a cobra pose in yoga, then in one smooth motion, bring your feet under you. Right foot forward, since you’re regular-footed.”
Daisy frowned. “How do you know I’m regular-footed?”
“You lead with your right when you walk,” Chad shrugged. “I notice things.”
Of course he did. For someone who presented himself as easygoing to the point of carelessness, Chad was remarkably observant. It was one of the many contradictions that made him intriguing.
“Okay, show me this pop-up thing,” Daisy said, trying to focus.
Chad demonstrated for her, his movements fluid as he went from a lying position to standing in one seamless motion, feet planted, knees bent, arms extended for balance.
“Now you try,” he encouraged, stepping off the board.
Daisy’s first attempt was awkward, as she got tangled in her own limbs and ended up kneeling on the board instead of standing.
“That’s okay,” Chad assured her. “Nobody gets it right the first time. Try again.”
Her second and third attempts weren’t much better. By the fourth, frustration began to set in.
“I can’t do this,” she muttered. “My body doesn’t move that way.”
