“Cute, cute, cute,” Nicole says with a broad smile. “So very cute.”
And although I’m somewhat embarrassed by the melodramatic tone of my conversation with him, I give them an honest recounting of what was said. By the time I get to the kiss, they are eating out of the palm of my hand.
“And . . . ,” Nicole says when I finish.
“And what?” I ask.
“And . . . what happened next?” Sophie asks.
“You heard the part where we kissed, right? That was kind of the big finish.”
They look cheated.
“There’s got to be more!” Sophie claims. “Did he just vanish into thin air? Didn’t you say anything?”
“I’m sure I said something, but my head was spinning way too much for me to remember what it was. I do seem to recall that we were both in a sort of stunned ‘I don’t know what to make of what just happened’ silence during the walk back up from the beach to my house.”
“Was there any sort of follow-up moment?” Nicole asks hopefully
I think about it and nod. “There was a part when I sort of manipulated the situation so that we could kiss again.”
“And yet you left that out?” Sophie asks, frustrated. “You know you’re terrible at telling this story.”
“How did you manipulate it?” asks Nicole.
“When we reached the house, we went around into the backyard and I asked him to help me put my board back on the rack. I told him it had to go on the top pegs but had trouble reaching that high by myself.”
Nicole laughs. “Why did you tell him it needed to be up there?”
I am almost too embarrassed to answer.
“I said it needed to be in direct sunlight to keep any condensation from contracting the foam core.”
They both look at each other and then back at me.
“That doesn’t make any sense,” Nicole says. “It’s like you just made up words.”
“I know that and you know that, but he doesn’t know that,” I explain. “It’s not like I could say I wanted him to do it because he’s tall and I was looking for an excuse to brush up against him.”
“Did it work?” asks Sophie. “Did you brush up against him?”
I smile at the memory and nod. “It was electric. I turned and looked up at him, and I was just about to kiss him again when . . .”
“. . . yeah . . . ,” they say eagerly.
“. . . my dad came out from the house to go on his morning run.”
They sag. “Argghhhh.”
“That’s when it got awkward. Dad said something like, ‘Hey Ben, what are you doing here?’ And I sort of panicked.”
“Oh my God,” Sophie gasps. “What did you say?”
“I told him that Ben had stopped by so the two of them could go running together.”
Sophie and Nicole both laugh out loud.
“You did not,” says Sophie.
“No, that’s exactly what I did. Because, you know, I’m so smooth.”
“And Ben went along with it?” asks Nicole.
“He didn’t really have much of a choice. They ran eight miles. By the time they got back, he had to go chaperone the campers on a field trip to the Kennedy Space Center and there was no chance to follow up.”
“So you haven’t seen him since it happened?” asks Nicole.
“The first time will be in a few minutes when he arrives here. I figure it should be a very romantic follow-up. What with all the screaming kids and of course my favorite person on the planet, Kayla McIntyre.”
“Forget about Kayla,” Sophie says. “He’s already picked you over her. She lost. You won. Game over. You’re his summer romance.”
“It was one kiss,” I say, trying to maintain some semblance of reality. “In my world one kiss is a huge deal, but in the regular world I don’t know that it qualifies as a summer romance.”
“Do not sell yourself short,” says Nicole. “You always do that. It was a kiss with purpose.”
“It was a kiss that he had to run eight miles for,” I reply. “How bad is that?”
“No,” she says. “It was a kiss that he thought was worth running eight miles for. How awesome is that?”
“The tall girl makes a valid point,” says Sophie. “He likes you. And when you didn’t get the signs he was sending, he built you a billboard.”
“Okay, maybe he does like me,” I concede. “But he’s just broken up with a longtime girlfriend, and he’s all freaked out about his parents’ divorce. I’m not sure he’s looking for a full-fledged summer romance.”
“Well, whatever he’s looking for,” Sophie says, pointing toward the beach access, “we’re about to find out.”
I turn and see Ben marching the kids our way. He’s acting like his normal goofy self, which is a good start, but while he’s wearing his sunglasses I can’t really read his expression.
“Do not sell yourself short,” Nicole reminds me just before they get within earshot. “You are totally worthy of long distance running.”
I appreciate the pep talk, but I’m still in full panic mode right up until the moment he reaches us and flashes that smile. It’s a huge relief. I realize that part of me was worried that he completely regretted what had happened and that he was going to act differently around me. I still don’t know what there is between us, but at least now I know there’s nothing awkward about it, so that’s a big step.
Kayla is her normal self, gorgeous and obnoxious (gorbnoxious?) all at once. She’s got a new bathing suit that truly showcases her (not so) secret weapons, but today I have a secret weapon of my own—Sophie. Wherever Kayla goes, Sophie is right by her side acting like they’re BFFs, roommates, and sorority sisters all rolled into one. This makes it impossible for her to flirt with Ben. When we line up to stretch, Sophie slides in front of Kayla so that she obstructs Ben’s view of her. And when it’s time to pick demonstration partners, Sophie latches on to her arm and exclaims, “We have to be partners, Kayla! We just have to!”
Despite all the subterfuge and mental distractions, the big news of the morning is the lesson. We keep the soft boards—large, padded surfboards—on the sand and practice our paddling and pop-up techniques. Then we hit the water and put them into practice. I can’t express how exciting it is to see the kids’ faces light up the first time they get up on their feet and ride a wave. Even though we’re only in three feet of water, it’s exhilarating for them.
My favorite is Rebecca, the shy girl I noticed the first day. She has continued to come out of her shell a little more each week. Today she stays up on the board the longest of anyone, and I can see in her the same spark I had when I was her age at this camp.
Throughout it all, Ben and I exchange quick glances and whispered comments. Our hands touch a couple of times as we help kids get up on their boards, and once when I’m not looking his way, he uses a boogie board to splash me, which gets a big laugh from everyone. Even with my compromised sign-reading ability, it all seems kind of flirty.
We finally have a brief moment right after the lesson when the kids are taking an orange slice and bottled water break. I look over and see that Kayla is still dealing with Hurricane Sophie, which means she won’t be able to drop in on me again like she usually does.
“They did great today,” I say.
“You did great today,” he replies. “The way you love it so much connects with them. They want to feel the same way because it’s so real.”
There’s an awkward pause, so I just jump headfirst into the situation.
“Speaking of real . . . ,” I say, unleashing the worst segue in history, “did that really happen yesterday?”
He smiles and nods. “It did. In fact, I think it was maybe going to happen again when we were interrupted.”
“By ‘interrupted’ you mean when you had to take an eight-mile detour with my dad?”
“Kinda, yeah,” he says. “I have to say I did not see that coming. I was hoping that maybe we could talk about it. . . . You know, without so many people around.”