She looks at me in a thoughtful manner for a moment—maybe she’s trying to figure me out.
“And besides,” I go on, “if you got stung by a jellyfish I’d have to pee on you anyway.”
She chokes out a laugh, cupping her long, delicate fingers over the top of her mouth.
“OK, you got me there,” she says. “I just overthink things a lot, to be honest. It’s one of my many flaws.”
“Oh?” I jerk my head back, indicating for her to follow. “What are some of your other flaws?”
She steps up beside me. The smell of her freshly washed hair and lightly perfumed skin does something to me.
“You want to know all of the many things that are wrong with me?” she asks with laughter.
“Well, yeah,” I say. “Might as well get all of that stuff out of the way now so we won’t be disappointed later.” I don’t know why I said that, as if there will even be a later.
Sienna smiles, her eyes drifting from mine and toward the sand again. The breeze catches her long brownish-red hair, pushing it against the front of her chest and crossing over her lips. Instinctively I want to reach out and move it away from her mouth with my fingers, but I don’t.
“Oh, where do I start?” she finally answers dramatically. “I thought this was a surfing lesson?”
“It is,” I say and drop my board carefully on the sand.
She looks at it curiously for a moment and then at me.
“Before we go out there,” I say, “I’ll teach you a few things here.” I strip off my shirt and drop it next to her bag.
“All right, you’re the trainer.” She smiles and drops her board the same as mine, and I catch her checking me out.
“Fins go in the back.” I point, trying not to crack a smile. “Turn it around.” I move my finger around in a circular motion and the blush reddens in her cheeks. I crouch to bury the fins in the sand so they don’t get damaged.
I show her a few basics on land: paddling, how to pop up on her board, and the proper positioning of her body on the board. I help her with the leash around her ankle, not because it’s difficult, but because like taking it upon myself to help her with her shoes yesterday, I want to—and just like yesterday, she doesn’t seem to mind.
“Remember your feet,” I tell her when she lies flat across it again. “Your toes need to be at the edge of the board, but don’t hang your feet off like that.”
She scoots up a little, wincing when her skin makes a squeaking noise as it scrapes across the board. For the next several minutes we go through the basic steps and she does really well, except for that feet thing. Twice I have to tell her not to hang her feet off the back of the board.
Once the quick lessons on land are over, we head for the ocean.
“Your turn.” Sienna looks at me with a cute lopsided smile, holding her board underneath her arm. “What’s one of your flaws?”
We get closer to the water until finally making it to where the sand is wet and more compact beneath our feet. I stop and turn to look at her as a small wave pushes ashore and crawls up our calves before retreating back into the ocean.
Looking upward in thought, I rub the tips of my fingers around my chin for added effect.
“I’m a backseat driver.”
“Really?” she says. “Backseat drivers drive me nuts.”
“Yep, that’s me.” I smile with a shrug. “I don’t trust anyone’s driving but my own.”
“So you’re a control freak,” she says, grinning under that sun-kissed skin.
“Nah—it’s just a trust thing is all.”
“So then you have trust issues.”
I blink back the surprise and grin at her.
“I guess another one of your flaws is that you’re quick to judge,” I say in jest.
Her face falls.
“No, no, I didn’t mean anything by it.”
Just when I think I’ve offended her, a grin sneaks up at one corner of her mouth.
“Ah, I see.” I start to walk into the water and she follows. “So we’re the Overthinking Manipulator and the Control Freak with trust issues.”
“I guess so,” she agrees without argument.
“Well, I hope we can stand to be around each other for three whole hours,” I say. “Sounds like a lot of work.”
Neither of us comments on the likelihood of that, I guess because we both already know that, well, three hours together isn’t going to be enough.
“What else?” she asks, and I get the sense that maybe she’s looking for something a little more serious. “I mean, surely there’s something about you that you, or someone you know, might consider a real flaw?”
Now I’m the one chewing on the inside of my mouth.
Sienna tilts her head to one side thoughtfully, waiting.
“Well, sure there is,” I say, though I find myself trying to word it right. “I’ve known a few … people … in my lifetime who think I’m too much of a risk-taker.” When I say people, I mean girls, but at the last second I thought it might be better not to bring up my past girlfriends and failed relationships.
Her ears perk up and she looks at me contemplatively. “Oh? A risk-taker, huh? In what way?”
I take a deep, but unnoticeable, breath.
Then I point out at the waves and say, “Like with my surfing, for example.” I laugh lightly. “Even you seemed a little anxious when I brought up the whole surfing in stormy weather.”
She smiles, drawing her petite shoulders up around her. Then she shrugs.