From the edge of the parking lot at Marlin Cove, I looked down onto the beach. Lena and Jesse had dragged the box of wetsuits halfway down the sandy slope, and were both shrugging off their T-shirts. Blake was standing a little further off, his hands tucked in the pockets of his black swim trunks as he stared out at the ocean. What a hipster. Didn't he have anything else to do besides stare at the horizon and contemplate life? Like, for example, start stretching, so he could help me with my rain dance.

"Hey, Waverly!" Lena called.

I squinted down at her, shielding my eyes from the sun.

"Pick out your wetsuit!"

Damnit.

I'd almost been hoping no one would notice that I hadn't set foot on the sand yet.

"Coming," I called back.

I tried to sound enthusiastic. I really did.

"Blake!" Jesse called as I trudged down to where the twins had set down the box of wetsuits. "Let's go, man!"

The roar of the waves almost drowned him out; the ocean, stretched out before us like an oversized bluish-grey carpet, looked menacing today. The water was choppy and filled with foam, and the waves were higher than I'd ever seen them before.

"Waverly, are you a medium or a large?"

Lena's chipper voice snapped me out of my so this is where I'll die train of thought.

"Uh," I looked down at myself, almost like I was expecting a large M or L to be printed across the front of me. If I said medium and ended up not being able to fit into it, I'd be embarrassed. Then again, if I said large and it was too big, I'd be flapping around in an oversized wetsuit. But that was better than the alternative. "Large, probably."

Lena tossed me a suit.

I twisted the fabric around for a moment. It was heavier than I'd been expecting; the lining was thick and the seams were double-stitched. After a couple minutes of examining the thing, though, I realized I had no idea how to put it on.

"Hey, Lena, how do I—"

When I looked up, she had already stripped off her shorts and shirt and had her legs into the wetsuit.

I decided to follow her lead.

The wind whipped my hair into my face as I shrugged off my shorts and kicked off my flip-flops. Lena noticed my struggle and handed me a hair-tie. I formed a tiny bun on top of my head, then tore off my shirt and pulled my arms through the sleeves of the wetsuit. That was where my understanding of how to put the thing on ended.

There were ties and zippers all up and down the front, like a complicated menagerie meant to showcase my incompetence. I glanced over at Lena, silently pleading for assistance.

Blake stepped around me, oblivious to my struggle, and grabbed a wetsuit out of the cardboard box. I pretended to be adjusting one of the elastic ties on the side of my suit and watched him strip off his shirt out of the corner of my eye. If I was going to drown today, I wanted to go out with a picture of Blake Hamilton shirtless burned into my memory.

The blare of a car horn shook me out of my ogling.

Jesse, Lena, Blake and I all looked up to the parking lot at the same time. A large white Range Rover, with several surfboards strapped to the top, had just pulled in. Through the tint of the windshield I could make out Alissa Hastings, her hair impeccably curled and a pair of sunglasses perched on her nose.

"I'll go help with the boards!" Jesse blurted.

I think I was the only one who noticed the way his ears went bright red as he started up the sandy slope, Lena lagging behind and mumbling something about making sure Jesse didn't drop a surfboard on his toe again. Unable to help myself, I grinned and chuckled at Jesse's love-struck eagerness.

My happiness was short-lived, however, when I noticed Blake scowling at me.

"What?" I demanded, the grin on my face disappearing.

Blake's eyes dropped to my wetsuit. It was still resting around my hips, the top part flapping around in the wind. The frown on his face deepened.

"Aren't you going to put that thing on?" he asked.

"Yeah," I huffed.

I reached for the sleeves of the thing and pulled them up, but they were twisted around. Blake watched me, his expression blank, as I spun in a circle, trying to figure out how to untangle the suit. Finally, he got impatient enough to step forward, grab me by the arms, and hold me still.

"Let me do it," he snapped.

"Fine," I sighed.

At Blake's insistence, I held my arms out at my sides as he walked around me and untangled the sleeves of my suit, which I'd practically tied into a knot. He pulled the back of the suit up to my shoulders, then grabbed my right hand and guided it into the right sleeve. Once that was secure, he grabbed my other hand and poked it through the left sleeve. The material of the wetsuit was heavy and rubbery, but it slid over my skin like cotton.

"There," Blake said, stepping back around me so we were face to face. His blue eyes sparkled with triumph, "now you just have to zip it up and—what'd you do to the elastic?"

I followed his gaze.

The elastic tie I'd been tugging on in an attempt to look like I knew how to put on the suit was poking out at my side, forming giant loops.

"Um," I mumbled.

"Do me a favor," Blake sighed, "don't touch anything."

He reached for the elastic and started to untangle the loops. While his fingers worked against my hip, I looked up at the parking lot. Lena had two surfboards stacked on top of her head, and she was starting back down the beach. Alissa was standing against her car, her hands clutched over her mouth as she fought to hold back a laugh. Jesse was beaming at her, his arm slung around a surfboard he'd propped on its tail end.

'Atta boy, Jesse.

I felt a sharp tug on my side and squealed.

"Sorry," Blake said, not sounding in the least bit apologetic.

I huffed and watched him finish fixing the elastic. I thought he'd stand up and be done with it, but then his hands went to my other hip and started pulling at a different elastic tie.

"What are you—"

"It's too loose here," Blake explained, cutting me off and pinching at the bulging excess of rubbery fabric around my waist. "It's supposed to be skin-tight. What size is this suit, anyway?"

"Large," I admitted.

Blake's lips twisted.

"Yeah, I guess you're tall," he said. "I think Lena might have a smaller one somewhere, though. You can try that next time."

"Next time?" I snorted. "What, are you planning on burying me in a wetsuit?"

Blake stopped fiddling with the elastic and stood up, so I was staring directly at his chin.

"You're not going to drown," he told me.

I glanced up at his eyes. They were soft, comforting.

"How do you know?" I asked.

I'd meant to sound snide and teasing, but my voice came out a little bit hoarse and very, very small. I sounded pathetic even to my own ears. Blake must've heard the fear in my voice, too, because he reached out and grabbed my chin between his thumb and forefinger.

I stopped breathing for a second.

"Trust me," he said, his voice rumbling straight through his fingers and into my bones, "I won't let anything happen to you."

I took a deep breath.

"Promise?"

"I promise," he replied.

And I believed him.

God, his eyes were so blue. I hadn't really realized how close we were until I saw the freckles across his nose and the little white scar above his eyebrow. I felt heat rush to my face, and wondered if he could feel it beneath his fingers.

"Because, you know, if I die, I'll come back from my watery grave to haunt the shit out of you, right?" I teased, trying to break the invisible tension that'd appeared between us.

Blake let out a loud, barking laugh.

"I figured you would," he chuckled, releasing his hold on my chin and tapping me once on the tip of my nose with his finger.

The action was incredibly endearing.

"Blake!"

The high-pitched wail of Alissa Hastings shattered the moment. Blake and I both turned to see the offending girl skipping down the beach, her tank top billowing in the wind and her tanned skin glittering in the sunlight.

She was so pretty.

It wasn't fair.

"Hi," Blake responded, blinking at her.

I turned to look for Lena, not wanting to witness Blake and Alissa's interaction. I'd rather put my own hand in a blender and make a cannibal smoothie.

"Long time no see, huh?" Alissa giggled.

Oh, shoot me, why don't you?

"Guess so," Blake responded. "How've you been?"

He sounded... civil.

Not flirtatious, not love-struck. Just polite.

"I'm good, I'm good." Alissa nodded, then frowned a little and set her hand against his arm, "How are you?"

What it sounded like she was asking was do you miss me.

"Good," Blake replied instantly, glancing over at me. I took the opportunity to pull my lips back into a grimace and stick out my tongue. I even crossed my eyes, just for added effect. The corners of Blake's lips curled upwards a little, like he was holding back a laugh, and he turned back to Alissa.

"Really?" she asked, eyebrows quirking up.

"Great, actually," he revised, "I'm great."

Alissa smiled.

"Good," she said, "I'm glad."

And she sounded like she genuinely was.

Which made me feel like I was intruding on some very important getting over each other moment. I turned and looked for Lena again, trying to resist the urge to grin like an idiot. Now Jesse and Alissa would be in the clear to have whatever sort of romantic relationship an idiot like Jesse could manage, and Blake and I could—could what?

I thought back to the note he'd left me.

I am also sorry for that thing I tried to do after you won Scrabble. I will not try to do it again, I promise.

He'd regretted almost kissing me. The thought blew a hole through my heart and sent it sinking into my feet. Just because Blake was single now didn't mean I had any more of a shot with him than I did at the start of the summer.

I was still the weird, pale chick from Alaska.

He probably just wanted to be friends.

But hey, that was better than nothing, right?

"Oh, hi there, Waverly!" Alissa said, as if only just noticing my presence. "I didn't know you could surf!"

"I can't," I replied.

Alissa's perfectly shaped eyebrows drew together.

"I'm teaching her," Blake interjected.

"That's sweet of you!" she chirped.

It was right then that I realized Alissa Hastings naturally sounded flirtatious; she wasn't trying to win Blake back, and she wasn't trying to compete with me for his attention. She just had those eyelashes that naturally fluttered and a voice that naturally took on a squeaky quality. Which, now that I thought about it, was probably why she had so many guys falling for her.

Including a certain curly-haired idiot.

Jesse Fletcher suddenly appeared at my side, kicking up sand and grinning from ear to ear. He threw a freckled arm over my shoulder and flicked the bun on top of my head.

"You excited, Waves?" he asked.

Waves?

Was that my new nickname?

Oh, the irony.

Death by nickname.

"Yeah," I lied, "I'm so pumped!"

I threw a fist up half-heartedly. Blake's eyes narrowed.

"Why don't you guys all go ahead and hit the water," he said, nodding towards Alissa and Jesse. "I've gotta teach Waverly some of the basics so she doesn't eat foam all day."

How thoughtful of him.

Jesse gave me a squeeze and wished me good luck, then tagged along behind Alissa like a lost puppy. I watched the two of them meet up with Lena, who was already at the edge of the water, and pick out their boards.

I took a deep breath and turned to face Blake.

"Do you think they'd notice if we ditched and went to get some burgers or something?" I asked hopefully.

Blake sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"You know I'd never let you drown, right?" he asked.

I pursed my lips, pretending to think.

"Oh, c'mon," Blake grumbled, reaching out to punch my arm so lightly I barely felt it. "Give me a little credit."

"But what if—"

"No."

"But you never know—"

"Stop."

"But—"

"Waverly," Blake said, "shut up."

I snapped my mouth shut and clenched my teeth, willing the nervous chatter to subside. Why did I always talk so much around Blake? I was the type of person who never put up my hand in class. So how come I could suddenly tell another human being—an attractive one, at that—everything?

"Sorry," I mumbled.

Blake stared at me for a moment.

"Alright," he finally said, sighing heavily, "go grab a board."

My eyes went wide.

To be honest, it was a miracle I didn't faint.

"What? Why?" I croaked in terror.

"Calm down," he huffed, grabbing me by the elastic tie on my hip and dragging me further down the beach, "I'm not letting you anywhere near the water yet. We'll do the basics on land."

I stumbled after him, my heart still pounding erratically.

Blake grabbed two surfboards and dragged them a bit further up onto the dry sand. I alternated between watching the muscles in his arms flex and staring out at the tumultuous ocean, where Lena, Jesse, and Alissa had already started paddling out towards the taller and more violent waves.

"Hey, Space Cadet," Blake called, "get over here."

I jumped and turned around to see Blake several yards further up the beach, rubbing his hands together to rid them of sand. I hurried up the slope to join him.

"Which one's mine?" I asked, nodding towards the boards.

"The smaller one," Blake said, tapping the board in question with the side of his foot. "Just go ahead and sit down on it."

I plopped down on one end, the rubbery fabric of my wetsuit screeching against the board. Great. That was so attractive. Before I even had time to adjust my seat so I didn't look like I was straddling a plank of wood—which, essentially, I was—Blake was crouching in front of me, fiddling with a thin line of black rope attached to the end of the board.

"What's that?" I asked.

"It's your tether," Blake explained, holding up a circular band of Velcro. "This part goes around your ankle, so you and your board stay attached."

"That's good," I said.

Yes, attached was good.

Please tie me to a flotation device before you throw me headfirst into the Atlantic Ocean to fend for myself.

"Here, give me your left foot," Blake said.

But his fingers were already wrapped around the back of my calf and he had my foot a good several inches in the air. He wrapped the Velcro band around my ankle and pulled it tight, making sure it stuck. Then he let my foot drop.

"Are you sure it won't come off?" I asked, tugging the band.

Velcro wasn't that strong, was it?

"I'm positive," Blake nodded, swatting my hand away from my ankle, "now roll over and lie down on your stomach."

I huffed, climbed onto my hands and knees, and then, with all the grace of a beached whale, plopped down onto the board. Which, of course, was painful. Especially considering whoever invented the surfboard clearly hadn't possessed boobs.

"This is so stupid," I muttered, "why do people do this?"

"It's fun."

"That's nice," I said, propping myself up on my elbows so I could look up at him. "You guys must also enjoy ripping your own fingernails off, too, huh? Since you're clearly a bunch of masochists."

Blake rolled his eyes. "Just paddle."

I reached my arms out and dragged both of them through the sand on either side of me.

"Not like that."

"Well then how?" I hissed impatiently.

"Like you're swimming, not making a flipping snow angel."

I shot him an exasperated scowl.

Blake looked like he wanted to shoot something.

Most likely himself, to end his misery.

"Come on, don't tell me you've never seen anyone do a front crawl or a dog paddle," he said, folding his arms over his chest.

"What does that even mean?"

"Kill me."

"I'm sorry, okay!" I howled. "Just tell me what to do!"

"You have to alternate strokes," Blake huffed. "Pull your arms back one after the other, not at the same time. You want one forward when the other's back."

There! Was that so hard to say?

I did as he'd said, pulling my arms back one after the other. I felt like a windmill; a windmill that was getting sand shoved underneath her fingernails. But Blake was nodding at me and kept mumbling things like there you go, so I could only hope I didn't look nearly as stupid as I felt.

"Like this?" I asked.

"Yup," Blake nodded, "now for the fun part."

I doubted we had the same definition of fun.

"Oh God," I moaned.

Blake smiled to himself as he straightened out the surfboard beside mine, kicking up a bit of sand onto my board as he scooted his closer. Then he dropped into push-up position over the longer board before lowering himself onto it, and I had to twist my features up into a scowl to keep from letting my jaw drop open. Stupid boys with their stupid athleticism and stupid arm muscles and stupid floppy hair.

"Once you're out on the water," Blake said, still wiggling on his board as he tried to find a comfortable position, "you'll have to wait for the right wave."

His elbow bumped against mine.

"How am I supposed to know what—"

"I'll be right next to you the whole time," he interrupted, "so I'll let you know the second I see a good one."

I glanced back out at the ocean. Lena was standing on her board, legs apart and knees bent, careening across the top of a wave that was taller than she was.

"I have to do that?" I croaked.

"No," Blake chuckled, propping himself up on his elbows and looking out at the water just in time to watch Lena slip off her board and go tumbling into the water. "Of course not. I'm not letting you take on anything bigger than a four-footer."

"Okay," I said with a nod.

That didn't sound too horrifying.

"But you are going to have to stand up on your board," he added, turning to give me a resolute look.

Oh, fuck me.

"Can't I just paddle?" I asked, batting my eyelashes at him.

I'd only meant to be teasingly persuasive.

But suddenly Blake's blue eyes got a bit wider, and the muscles in his arms tensed up as his fingers tightened their grip on the edge of his surfboard. He swallowed—hard—before turning back towards the ocean in front of us, blinking.

"Don't be a coward," he mumbled, his voice hoarse.

I couldn't tell whether he was talking to me or himself.

"Alright," I huffed after a minute of silence—him staring out at the ocean and me picking the sand out from underneath my fingernails, "let's get this over with, then."

Blake snapped out of his daze.

"So, um," he cleared his throat, "you'll have to be able to pop up when you catch a good wave."

"Pop up?" I frowned.

"You know, get up on your feet."

"Okay."

"So, grab each side of the board," he said, tapping the back of my hand that was closest to him.

I wrapped my fingers around the board, level with my chest, and then did the same with my other hand.

"And then what?" I asked.

"Then—all in one move, okay—you're gonna push yourself up with your arms," he straightened out his arms, so he was hovering above the board with his knees bent, "and then you pull your feet under you."

In one movement, he'd brought his legs underneath him, so he was crouching