I wait for him to ask who that is, but he doesn’t. A comfortable silence settles between us.
I peer up at the bright path of moonlight, the shimmering walkway from the shore to the horizon. I inhale the majesty, the wet salty air, the crashing sound of the surf, the soft lapping sound of the water as it ebbs. “It’s weird. Even though I’m disobeying them—my parents—it’s where I feel closest to God.”
We watch the waves in silence. I wonder what he’s thinking, if he feels I shared too much, if he thinks I’m so boring compared to my sixth-grade self. Abruptly he stands, extends his hand, and I take it. Guess it’s time to go home. He lifts me to my feet but then takes my hand the way we do with our friends during closing prayer, not interlinking fingers, but still. This is the first time a guy has held my hand outside of prayer circles, and I start to resist, but instead of going to our bikes, he pulls me toward the shoreline.
“What’re we doing?”
“This is what you wanted to do tonight, wasn’t it?” At the water’s edge, all I can think is, A guy is holding my hand. Not for real in the romantic fireworks way, but still. It’s only September, but the ocean’s chilly as he walks me ankle deep. “Before I hijacked your night. You were trying to get away so you could swim with God.”
“Yes, but—”
“Then I’m not keeping you from it.” We wade deeper, the water lapping up to our waists.
“I usually wear a wetsuit!” I laugh, pulling back toward the shore.
“Where’s your wetsuit?”
“Old Man Mike’s. Corner of Ocean and Twenty-sixth, you know, by Bruce’s Beach? I leave it in his side yard.”
“Not enough time if we’re gonna make curfew. Come on.”
He leads me farther in. This is crazy. And cold. Jeans, jackets, and T-shirts—soaked straight through. But I don’t resist. I don’t want to let go of Jake’s hand for anything.
Well, maybe one thing. I pull away and dive headfirst under the white water. The ocean surges over my head and surrounds my body with its current. I’m where I belong. I pop up, the salty taste dripping through my huge smile.
He has that look again, the one he gave me when I told him about the two moons, where he’s staring intently, like if he looks away, I might disappear.
“There you are,” he says.
“What,” I say.
“You’re not all don’ts.” He grins and grabs hold of me, lifting and dunking me under the surf again, but this time going with me.
We swim and body surf until we’re prunes. After five years of being solo out here, I’ve forgotten how much fun it is to do this with another human. Thank you, I tell God. This is our place still, I promise. But thanks for sharing it tonight.
By the time we wring ourselves out and he bikes me home, I’m a Popsicle, my jacket heavy with seawater, hands numb on my handlebars as the wind whips past. It’s 10:58 p.m. when we pull up to my curb.
“See?” he says, as I look at my watch for the millionth time tonight.
“Do you want me to get you a towel?” I ask between shivers.
“Nah. Get yourself inside. I’ll see you Monday.”
“Okay.” I don’t move. “I’m, uh, gonna take my bike in through the side yard.”
He nods. “Good night.”
“Okay.” Why do I keep saying okay? “I mean, good night.” I walk through the gate, resisting the urge to look behind me.
Inside, I press my lips together so my teeth won’t chatter and hurry through the house to the shower. I lock the bathroom door and turn on the water. Fully clothed, I stand under the steaming shower until I’ve rinsed off any evidence of the ocean. As I peel off my jeans and jacket and everything else, I hear knocking.
“Hey, Love,” Dad says through the door.
“Hey, Dad.”
“You have fun with Lydia?”
“Yeah.”
“Full moon tonight.”
“Oh yeah?”
“You biked. Didn’t you see it?”
Actually, I saw two. I’m remembering Jake’s awe. “Two moons,” I hear him say.
“Lovette?”
“Yeah, sorry. No, I saw it. Beautiful.”
“Your mom wants to talk to you tomorrow. Something about the YMCA not having you listed as a member.”
Oh no. I close my eyes and pray, but I know I’m busted. How will I get out of this without lying? “Okay, sounds good.”
He waits at the door, I can feel it, wondering if I’ll explain.
“Night, Dad.” I turn the water off, ball up my clothes, and wrap myself in a towel. Tonight’s the first night I’ve spent alone with a guy. Does that count as a date? I hope not. I apologize to God just in case. I made a promise, and I intend to stick to it. But why didn’t it feel wrong? He even held my hand, and it felt normal. Natural, even. I drop my head to my hands and sit on the toilet seat until the hall light goes dark under the crack of the bathroom door.
Chapter Ten
The following morning, Mom clomps into my room like she’s auditioning for clog dancing. Her AirPods are sticking out of her ears in weird directions, and her Saturday-morning hair looks messier than usual. “Where’ve you been going after work?”
I’m doing homework in bed, so I can’t pretend I’m sleeping. “Mom—”
Her hands drop to her hips. “Don’t ‘Mom’ me. The YMCA says you don’t have a membership. Where’ve you been at night?”
I look to the wall at my collage of pictures from Hume Lake Christian Camp. Next to it is a framed poster of Kelly Slater riding a wave in the 2015 Billabong Pro Tahiti World Surf League tour. “I—”
“Who walked you home last night? That wasn’t Lydia.”
I forget how to breathe. “How did you—”
She crosses her arms smugly. “Windows.”
“You were spying?”
“Just trying to figure out why our daughter, whom we thought we knew, hasn’t been where we thought she was for the past eighteen months.”
“Actually, longer,” I admit.
“LONGER!” she repeats, just in case Dad can’t hear from his men’s Rotary meeting across town.
I want to tell the truth. My parents aren’t religious, and the whole lying thing isn’t gonna win any points for how they view the Big Guy. I’m just so afraid that if I tell them I’ve been out in the waves, the one thing I love will be taken from me. They think the Pacific Ocean’s the devil. I suppose if I saw my son attached to that many tubes after almost drowning, I might, too.