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I feel my cheeks flush when he says sit on it. I can think of things I’d like to sit on, and I’m glad my better sense keeps me from saying it aloud. I don’t want him to think of me as just another married woman who’s flirting with him because she’s lonely or bored. A part of me just wants him to like me. It feels like that, as much as anything, is what’s missing from my life. A man who not only finds me attractive, but genuinely likes me.
Blake pushes the board out into the water, and I follow, shivering a little when the chilly water hits my bare legs. He moves around to stand next to me, and I nearly flinch when his bare hand touches my back. “Alright. Can you get up on it?”
I nod, hoping that the sun is a good enough explanation for how hot my face is. Blake’s hand stays on my back, steadying me as I try to climb up on the surfboard as gracefully as possible, and I have another small flash of fear as I wonder if any of my security can see what’s going on in enough detail to see Blake touching me. I can only imagine how Salvatore might feel about that.
And what would their opinion be if they saw someone else touching him? Probably nothing, and that thought pisses me off enough that I stop worrying about it.
Once I’m astride the surfboard, Blake grabs his and jumps onto it. “Alright. We’re just gonna paddle around a little to start. Get used to feeling it under you, how it moves, get your balance. Okay?”
I nod speechlessly. I’m already way off-balance. I hadn’t realized how sexual learning to surf could sound. Or maybe it’s just me, and my mind’s in the gutter because of all the unresolved tension in my marriage.
“There you go,” Blake praises, as we move the surfboards through the crystal water. “You’re getting the hang of it. Now, let’s try getting up on your knees, and balancing that way.”
Oh, for fuck’s sake.
Everything about his expression as he says it, is completely guileless. But I don’t miss the way his gaze is fixed on me as I carefully rearrange myself on the board, getting onto my knees. I can’t help but wonder if he’s imagining this in a different scenario, a scenario that then leaps into my mind, and I feel myself blushing deeper than I imagined possible.
“Are you alright?” Blake raises an eyebrow. “You look flushed. If the sun is too much?—”
“No, I’m fine,” I reassure him, almost a little too quickly. “What now?”
The rest of the lesson, at least, requires enough focus that I’m able to stop thinking about him quite so much. Eventually, I get to a standing position on the board, and Blake praises me effusively, which only makes me feel that much more flushed and uncertain around him.
“I rarely see anyone able to make it all the way up on their first lesson!” he exclaims, grinning. “You must have great core strength.”
“It’s the Pilates,” I mumble, still red-faced and looking out towards the breaking waves to see if any of them are heading our way. “Should I stay up?—”
“Yes! There’s a small wave coming this way; see if you can ride it to shore.” Blake gestures, moving his own board out of the way to give me a clear line to stay on mine and take the wave back to the beach.
“I don’t know?—”
“You can do it!” His enthusiasm, truthfully, is enough to make me believe it. He’d be a great coach. I eye the small wave again, trying to hold my center of balance—and then I feel momentarily as if I’m floating as the wave catches the board, sending me towards the beach and the small cluster of other women waiting there.
For a second, I think I’m going to fall. And then I find my balance again, and manage to stay upright all the way until my board skids onto the sand, stumbling off of it as I try to get a new kind of balance once more.
My crush on the instructor aside, it was fun, I realize. The kind of fun I’ve rarely had—the kind I’ve been discovering since I got here. I’m glad, suddenly, that we have at least the rest of the week here, if not longer. I want more of this.
“I told you that you could do it!” Blake comes up behind me, his hand touching my waist as he grins at me, his skin once again glistening from the water. This time, I don’t think I can pretend that the touch is normal, or that he does this with everyone. In the water, it could be construed as help, but I didn’t see him touching any of the other women when they finished their lessons.
“I’m impressed with myself.” I manage a small, shaky laugh. “It was a lot of fun.”
“You should come back. You’ll keep improving.” Blake’s hand is still brushing against my skin, and I feel a warm tingle spreading out from where his fingers are lying against the curve of my waist. I think if I leaned in and kissed him, impulsively, he wouldn’t hate it. He’d laugh, and probably kiss me back. And then he’d ask me to meet him later.
It would be careless, and fun, and mean nothing, I realize. And I wish I could do something reckless that meant nothing. I’ve never been able to do anything like that.
I take a step back, putting distance between us before I can make a mistake. “I need to meet my friends. Thanks for the lesson.”
“Anytime. And I mean that.” Blake grins. “I’ll be at the bar when I’m done with lessons for the day.”
“We’re going to have lunch there. So maybe I’ll see you.”
“I hope so.” He winks, that smile still on his face, and goes back down to where the boards—and the other women—are waiting.
I swallow hard. The smart thing to do would be to go back to the villa. But I want to have lunch with my newfound friends, and I want to have a drink in the sun, and I want to flirt with Blake a little more, and hold onto this feeling. So I move my towel a little further down the beach, stretching out in the sun until I’ve dried off enough to get dressed again, and then I gather up my things to meet the other four women.
They’re not there yet when I get up to the bar, and neither is Blake. I get a table this time, ordering a water and looking over the menu while I wait. The day is beautiful, just this side of hot, but the breeze that moves through the open-air bar helps mitigate it enough that it’s pleasant. Besides, after months of New York winter, I’d rather be too hot than cold.
About twenty minutes later, I see Michelle and her three friends walking up to the bar. I wave in their direction, and they immediately make a beeline toward me, setting their bags from the market down by the chairs.
