Free Beach Glass by Suzan Colón Page A

says as we all gather around after our stance practice is done. “We’ll be in groups of two surfers and one instructor. You’ll study the waves, paddle out, count the sets, and when you see white water at the top of a wave, you’ll take that one and work on getting to a hands and knees position on the board. Surfers go one at a time, and your instructor will be right behind you, literally, launching you into the wave. Sound good?”
    Everyone nods, and a few people say, “Yeah, let’s do it!”
    I am not one of them. I’m busy looking out at the waves, which are pretty from this distance. And I’d like very much to stay here on the beach and look at them, not attempt to ride them on this board, however cute it may be.
    Okay, let me, or rather Kate, try that again. Yes, I’m ready to start surfing.
    People gravitate toward whichever instructor they’re standing closest to, but Allegra, the bride-to-be, zips right in front of Carson. I was already standing near him, mostly because he seemed to wander my way while he was talking.
    “You guys ready?” he asks us.
    “You bet,” I say.
    “Always,” Allegra says heavily. I marvel at her lack of subtlety.
    When we get in the warm, teal-colored water, I find out that the waves are stronger than they look. They’ve got a good pull under what seems so gentle on the surface, like the ocean is tugging us in. Allegra and I get pushed around a little as we wade out, but Carson shows us how to dip the noses of our surfboards under the waves to keep them from knocking us over. Then we get to a point where we can hoist ourselves onto the boards and start paddling.
    Allegra volunteers to try to catch a wave first, which I think is brave. Gradually, though, I see it was actually a genius ploy to monopolize Carson’s attention. After what feels like half an hour of listening to her squeal, “No no, not yet, not yet!” in a voice like nails on a chalkboard, Carson tells her to get ready and launches her into what looks like a perfectly easy, beginner-friendly wave. Allegra squeals and immediately falls off the board.
    I stifle a giggle, hoping Carson doesn’t notice. But he’s busy making sure that Allegra, who has surfaced sputtering with her hair in her face, is okay. He tells her she’s got the hang of it and she just has to keep practicing. Then he submerges, disappearing under a wave.
    Seconds later, he surfaces right next to me, looking like some handsome mythical sea creature. “Kate the Great,” he says, smiling and holding the board with his hands on either side of my leg.
    Of the nicknames I’ve been given, like Daniel’s “Pretty Katy” and my sister’s “Scaredy Kat,” I like Carson’s best.
    His eyes, rimmed with black lashes that are sparkling with seawater, are so green it’s ridiculous. “Did you get the idea of what we’re trying to accomplish here?” he asks. I nod. “Okay then, let’s get into position.”
    That means me lying on the surfboard on my belly, waiting to be launched into a wave by Carson, who’s holding the back of my board, so his two main views are of my feet and my butt. I’m so grateful I gave myself a decent home pedicure before I came here and that I had the sense to buy cute and butt cheek-covering swim shorts.
    “Kate, what can you tell me about the wave sets?”
    “Um  . . . sets of three?” I’m totally guessing here.
    “Good job,” Carson says. “So, next set, if the third wave has white water on top of it, that’s your wave. Try to get to your hands and knees. Okay?”
    I give him the thumbs-up. He surprises me with a quick squeeze on my ankle—and not the one with the thick leash band around it.
    First wave. No white water. If I didn’t know better, I’d think Carson kind of liked me. I mean, there was that deeply meaningful moment when we first met, but maybe that was only meaningful for me, and I still don’t know why.
    Oops, second wave, but there’s no white at the top. Then there was the way