The Moment of Letting Go - J. A. Redmerski Page 0,28

surfers ride big waves and I want to lie against the sand and look up at the stars when night falls.

I don’t want to go home. Not yet.

But I have to.

I fall off my board again, sinking beneath the water and sucking more saltwater into my nose.

Luke’s strong arm hooks around my waist from beneath the water as he helps me to the surface. My eyes have been stinging for the past hour and I know they must be red-rimmed and bloodshot.

“You’re doing awesome¸” he lies, but I think it’s adorable.

“Thanks!” I yell over the sound of a few crashing waves around us. “But I think I could do better.”

“You’ve done better than a lot of people their first time,” he says, steadying himself back on his board in an upright sitting position. “Caught six small waves—that’s pretty good.”

“But I still fell.” I laugh and crawl on top of my board to sit like him, straddling my legs on either side.

“Falling is inevitable for beginners,” he says, “but catching six waves isn’t—give yourself some credit.” He smiles, the sun beaming off the droplets of water lingering on his tanned face and dripping from the hair pushed back away from his forehead.

He looks incredible, I can’t stop myself from glimpsing him when he’s not looking. My stomach flip-flops every time he touches me, whether to help me get back on my board, or to pull me from underneath the water, when he places his hands on my hips, gently helping me with my form—all things that I can really do myself for the most part, but couldn’t bring myself to protest. I actually look forward to it each time.

And sometimes I find myself instigating it.

Gah! I’m like a little girl with a crush!

Once again, reality rears its ugly head and ruins the moment. “I’m not looking forward to going back to work,” I say, gazing across the water at the hotel a pretty good distance away.

Luke paddles over a little closer to where the sides of our boards touch.

“You don’t seem happy with your job,” he says.

I shake my head slightly, still looking toward the hotel. Flashes of the wedding ceremony and of Mrs. Dennings and her evil spawn of a daughter dance through my mind.

“It’s a good job,” I say distantly.

“What’s so good about it?” Luke asks, and I finally turn away from the hotel to look at him sitting on his board right next to me.

“It pays great,” I answer.

“Is that all?”

I think on his question a moment, digging inside myself for his reasoning behind it, because I get the distinct feeling there is one.

“I guess that’s the most important thing,” I say. “I mean, I love the creative side of my job, but the money is why we work to begin with.”

Luke smiles softly and gazes across the water. He says, “A wise man once said, Why work for a living if you kill yourself working?”

I purse my lips thoughtfully and nod. “Pretty sound advice, I guess. Who’s the wise man?”

“Clint Eastwood,” Luke answers.

I chuckle. “He said that, did he?”

“Yep. He did—well, it went something like that, anyway.”

“Good advice,” I repeat, “but not exactly advice half of the working population can heed, unfortunately.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” he says, shaking his head. “I think it can be done.”

A wave pushes us forward, almost knocking me off my board, but I manage to hold on and stay upright. We’ve been drifting closer to the shore for the past few minutes.

Once the water calms again, I look back over at him and say, “I’m all ears.”

Another wave comes toward us, and this time Luke gives me that look, telling me I should try to catch this one. With only a little time to spare, I lie forward across the center of my board and start to paddle until the wave comes quickly up from behind. I brace myself, popping my body into a near-perfect stance. The wave carries me nearly all the way to the shore, where I finally jump off one side into shallow water. Luke is right behind me.

An enormous smile stretches my face so wide that the muscles in my cheeks hurt. I never imagined that something as simple as riding waves on a piece of fiberglass, or foam, or whatever these boards are made of, could be so exciting. I probably thought about being stung by a jellyfish only once the entire time I was out there. It was like the waves and the sun beating down