The Other Side of Tomorrow

Surfacing for air, I push my wet hair out of my eyes, the surfboard bobbing like an obedient puppy waiting for praise and attention.

Jasper laughs heartily. “Good try.”

“I didn’t even stand up for one second,” I groan, swinging my body back onto the board. I’m glad now for the wetsuit. Even in July the water is chilly and in only my swimsuit I would’ve frozen to death.

“Hey, you tried, and that’s all that matters.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

He chuckles. “Next one’s mine.” He winks.

“You’re going to ride a baby wave?” I scoff.

He shrugs, smiling cockily. “Someone’s got to show you how it’s done.”

“Maybe I want someone else to show me,” I mock, fighting laughter.

He raises one dark brow—a talent I’ve never been able to master. “Is that so? I’m sure I could find someone willing to help you.” He waves his hand in the direction of other surfers.

I pretend to think about it. “Nah, I’ll stick with you.”

“Good choice. I am the best.”

“Cocky much?” I joke.

“Hey, I know what I’m good at and I own it. I don’t think that makes me cocky.” He pauses and tilts his head. “Okay, maybe a little bit cocky,” he relents.

A few minutes later, another small wave comes along and he talks me through everything he does as I watch.

He makes it seem easy, completely effortless. He rides the wave until it ends and then jumps into the water and back on his board.

We spend several hours in the water and I only manage to ride a small wave once, and only for about five seconds. Jasper swears it’s longer, but I know he’s only trying to make me feel better.

We drag the boards out of the water and collapse onto the sand with them.

“I’m tired,” I declare, removing the clasp around my ankle.

He chuckles. “Your body will get used to it.”

“Used to it?”

“I told you, we’re not quitting until you ride a real wave.”

I crinkle my nose and mutter, “Slave driver.”

“I heard that.” He sits down beside me, draping his arms over his knees.

“I meant for you to.” I laugh.

“We’ll take a break tomorrow,” he says, squinting from the bright sun. “Give your body a chance to recover.” I doubt my body will recover in one day, but I’m not about to argue or I know he’ll make me do it again tomorrow. “There’s somewhere I’d like to take you tomorrow night.”

“Where?” I ask, trying to breathe normally and not like I’ve just run twenty miles.

“It’s a club,” he hedges, waiting for my reaction.

“Uh …”

“It’s not at all like you’re thinking,” he says. “It’s for dancing, but like real dancing, not that grinding stuff.”