A quick jerk of my ankle brings my board sailing toward me. I grab the nose and crawl on top of it. With my legs straddling the board for stability, I drag Mitzy out of the water.
I lay her flat, belly down, and cover her with my body, sandwiching her between me and the board. It’s awkward, but it’ll do.
“Wha-what’s going on?” Mitzy’s breaths hitch. Her voice slurs.
“You got washed off the rocks.” I grab her hands. Shit, they’re cold. “Hold on here.”
“Huh?”
We don’t have a lot of time to dick around.
“Grab hold. Keep your head down. Lie as flat as possible.” It feels like giving instructions to a kindergartener.
“Why?” Her groggy voice slurs as hypothermia sets in.
I point to the breakwater.
“Because we have to go through that.”
The surf isn’t that big. I prefer larger waves. Specifically, I enjoy the monster waves found in Hawaii and Australia. With the band’s tour schedule, it’s a rare treat when I get to challenge myself on a real wave. This is chump change—kind of.
It’s difficult for me to appreciate the size of the waves from the eyes of someone not used to them. Those danger signs posted along the coast are there for a reason.
The surf here is challenging; no disputing that. Anywhere from six to ten feet, the waves are big enough to challenge the most accomplished surfer.
Tie that surfer to a victim and it adds a whole other level of difficulty. Good thing there’s not much that gets me riled up.
I slip into a meditative trance and become one with the ocean. I time the swells.
In front of us, froth covers the top of the water, the remnants of a breaking wave. I cut through the chop as a wave crashes in front of us. Popping through that mess is normally child’s play. That won’t be possible with Mitzy on board; pun intended.
She lifts her head and looks where I point.
First, there’s a squeak, then a low, shuddering moan. She tries to jump off my board. I cage her in, trapping her between me and the board.
“Don’t move.” I bark the command into her ear. “I’ve got you. Trust me.”
“But, you’re going the wrong way.”
I don’t care what she thinks. At this point, Mitzy is nothing but baggage.
She doesn’t know about the rocks between us and the shore, especially the submerged ones, which will kill us.
“Hold on!” I press my body against hers, lying fully on top of her body. Hopefully, that’ll keep her in place. At least, that’s my plan.
Her teeth chatter and her entire body shakes. With Mitzy somewhat pacified, I paddle toward the crashing waves. We enter the white water. The board vibrates beneath me. I hold tight and press my body against my board as we punch through the wave.
Water rushes over us. It roars and crashes before we pop like a cork to the surface.
Mitzy sputters and coughs, but I reach out and stroke through the water. Looming ahead of us is a ten-foot wave.
If it crashes over us, we’re toast. There’s no punching through that; we have to go over it before it crests.
My arms power through the water, digging deep as we face a rising wall of water. My muscles protest, wrung ragged from the punishing rescue and from balancing her awkward weight on the board.
My heart barely scavenges enough energy to pump blood to my muscles. My shoulders burn with a buildup of lactic acid, pushed beyond tolerance. My thighs clench from caging Mitzy in and from keeping her from falling off the board. My entire body squeezes the last dregs of endurance from every cell.
I power us up and over the face of the wave. Through it all, Mitzy screams.
The tip of my surfboard crests the top of the swell. It dangles in the air then slams down the backside of the wall of water with a pop and a crash.
My strokes continue, cutting through the water. We’re not safe yet.
We rise up the face of another wave, cresting it before it curls. Mitzy trembles, head down, body clenched tight. We slide down the backside of the wave and I cut into the water, steering us further from the shore.
I move us past the surf zone and come to a momentary stop. My arms and legs, pushed past exhaustion, hang like wet noodles.
For the moment, we’re safe.
Mitzy breathes. The tension in her body eases until it gives up completely. Her entire body goes limp. Her lips part as she places her cheek against the board. Terrified eyes seek purchase on something familiar. I lean down, blocking her view back to land.
“You’re safe, Mitzy. I’ve got you.”
A strange sensation builds in my chest. I sweep the hair off her face and cover her body with mine, seeking contact to ease her fear. She’s mine to keep safe, and I’ll do whatever it takes to do that.
A powerful temptress, the ocean has the power to build a man up, or break him apart. She challenges and rewards. Fickle at best, she tests my character daily and delves deep into my soul.
Do I pass her test?
In rescuing Mitzy, did I answer the fundamental question of whether I would sacrifice myself to save another?
I don’t know.
Between us and the shore, the waves build, crest, and crash. Mitzy and I are nothing more than debris riding the swells. I collapse on top of her and draw in deep lungfuls of air while my body recovers.
The ride in won’t be easy. It’s hard enough standing tall while riding my board. Now, I have to do that without wiping out and losing Mitzy in the middle of a crashing wave.
“You saved me.” Her lips part, incredibly pale from the cold. Pink dots her cheeks, the only part of her body with any color. Thick lashes frame her eyes and they flutter as she struggles to remain conscious.
A fin breaks the surface.
Fuck.
I don’t have time to deal with Old Joe.
Four
Mitzy
Deep cold penetrates my bones. I grip the edge of a surfboard and press my forehead against the fiberglass.
Every now and then, water rushes over the tip of the board, dousing me in another icy-cold jolt of pain. My eyes sting from the salty water and I’m sick to my stomach from swallowing gallons of the stuff.
I’m alive.
And cold.
I’m desperately cold.
Noodles lies on top of me. I feel every hard inch of him—his chest as it expands with each pull of his breath. The hard muscles of his arms as they bracket mine, caging me in. His entire body covers me, protects me.
His groin presses against my ass. I’m overly conscious of that one particular part of him. His legs part, resting outside of mine, which pushes his hips, and groin, against my backside.
Thinking is harder than it should be. My thoughts are sluggish. The chattering of my teeth bangs in my head and my muscles spasm as I shiver from head to toe.
If not for Noodles, I would be dead, drowned, or bashed against the rocks.
I’ve never felt so helpless. It’s like the universe sent a message, which said, Puny human, it’s time to die.
Where did that wave come from?
Before I went out on the rocks, I watched the waves. Not a single one crested over them.
One moment I was looking down, then a wall of water moved toward me. I’ve never felt real terror before, but the moment I went over the edge, I knew.
I was going to die.