We settle for a spot close to the sand and picnic area. Moments later, Rob and another friend, Isaac, arrive in his newly purchased convertible.
“Drew,” he howls with the top down.
Jesus, what a dick. It’s like Rob’s gone through a midlife crisis at the age of twenty-eight. He has a job at some posh real estate agency and has used his clients as a reason to purchase this unaffordable car. What does Zoey call it again? A penis extension. She doesn’t seem to comment, though, instead looking rather pleased when he drives past.
“Oh, you didn’t tell me Rob from your gym was coming. And in his new penis mobile.” She smiles instantly, posing comfortably with her hand resting on her hip.
“Would that have made you complain less?”
“That depends. What food did you pack for me?”
“You don’t want to know.”
She squats opening the cooler and rummaging through the ice. “Oh, c’mon, Drew!” She raises her arms in frustration. “It’s the beach for crying out loud. It’s beer-and-chips kinda eating.”
“How about cucumber juice and carrot sticks?”
“I’m not talking to you for the rest of the day. In fact, I think I’ll go help Rob unload his nice car.”
She throws her T-shirt onto our pile of stuff, skipping over to Rob like a teenage girl with a crush. Jesus Christ, her tits are bouncing like crazy, and again, it prompts every dick to look at her, including Rob, his eyes bulging like an over-excited cartoon character.
The both of them begin talking, followed by laughing, and with that all sorted, I pack my gear and get ready to hit the waves. The three of them, including Isaac, walk over and drop their stuff beside mine.
“We’re going for a swim. Back soon.” She winks, linking her arm into Rob’s as they turn toward the beach.
Isaac grabs his board, and I follow his lead, leaving our belongings as we walk over the hot sand.
The water is refreshing, cooling my heated skin as we swim out past the shallow water and families frolicking in the waves. The water begins to rock, and I get ready to ride the wave noticing Zoey in the corner of my eye, waving her arms with Rob smiling beside her. They seem to be having fun, so I ignore them, focusing on the strong current moving my body. The wave moves toward me, and I’m on a high riding my board until the wave dies off. Isaac’s only a short distance away, swimming toward me when the ocean calms. His fast strokes bring him closer, and I can see his face is panicked as he tries to communicate.
“Dude, Zoey looks like she’s in trouble.” He motions for me to look at the beach.
My eyes scan the body of water where I saw them last. Nothing. When Isaac points to the beach again, I only see legs peeking through a crowd. It could be anyone, but then Rob is jumping about and waving his arms frantically, and he becomes my primary focus. Abandoning my board, I swim as fast as I can until I’m at the shoreline. With barely any breath, I race over, shoving people out of the way. Zoey’s lying on the ground, unconscious. Her face ghost-white and lips a shade of dark gray.
“Where’s the lifeguard?” I yell, glancing around me in sheer panic.
A stranger respond’s instantly, “They aren’t on duty yet.”
“Then fucking call 911!”
I call her name, but she doesn’t respond. Studying medicine should help me at a time like this, yet terror-stricken nerves swamp my body causing the shakes. I need to clear my head so I can remember the basic steps. Come on, Drew, you fucking know this! This is basic everyday knowledge. Calm the fuck down and don’t let her die.
“She got caught in a riptide. I got scared, and I didn’t know what to do,” Rob stutters in a rush, pacing beside me with his hands frantically running through his hair.
Three, two, one.
Nothing.
“C’mon, Zo. I was lying about the carrot sticks. Wake up please,” I beg softly.
My heart is racing a million miles a minute. I’m thinking about how if anything happened to her, I wouldn’t know what to do with myself. Get your shit together. Follow the CPR steps again.
I place my lips onto hers, blowing into her mouth, desperately trying to resuscitate her, all the while praying she can hear my thoughts. Fucking wake up, Zo. I wouldn’t know what to do without you. I need you.
Everything I’ve ever complained about, I want back—her annoying quirks like singing Madonna off-key in the shower, dropping crumbs on the sofa, her loud snoring, her hair pins scattered all over the apartment, and the way she lies in my bed talking to me for hours about her day or some random television show she landed on while channel surfing. Oh, and her obsession with fictional characters.
I want it all back, every bit of her back.
I can’t fucking lose her!