Riley

Caught inside. Adjective. [kawt in-sahyd]. A surfer who is caught inside is too far in, and the waves are breaking further out. It can be dangerous in big surf.

Despite my less than fortunate run-in with the waves the last time I went swimming, today Ross convinced me to try surfing. I have little trust in my abilities since I am an utter failure at roller skating, skiing, skateboarding, and anything else that involves something moving under my feet. Ross, the super surfer lifeguard, has met his match today.

I slip off my flip flops as soon as I hit the beach, carrying them in one hand, and I jog towards Ross's lifeguard station. The beach is crowded today even though summer is waning, which I've been trying not to think about. The end of the summer means two things. One, I have to figure out what I'm going to do with my life. Two, I have to leave the island, which means I have to leave Ross.

I'm not ready for that.

It's not like I've really known the guy all that long--less than two months, actually--but I've spent so much of my summer with him that my summer has become him. And I don't want to leave it behind, but what am I supposed to do? Ask him to come with me? Stay behind on the island with him? That's not what either of us want, and besides, that's pretty drastic for a summer fling. What did I really expect when all this started? Not this. Not these pesky feelings.

"Hey, Ry!"

I look up and catch sight of Ross, jogging towards me in a thin t-shirt and a pair of boardshorts. This looks like something out of Baywatch and I have to keep myself from staring.

"Hey," I say with a grin.

He catches up to me and kisses me, his hands framing my face and pulling my mouth to his. Well, that's one way to say hello. There's urgency and passion and heat in his kiss, and all I can think is how much I'll miss this when summer comes to a close.

"Hey," he murmurs, pulling away just enough that I can see the twinkle in his bright blue eyes.

How did I get this lucky?

And it's not just that he's a hot lifeguard who kisses me on a regular basis. I mean, that's nice and all, but it's more than that. I think I would still like him even if he was shaped like a hippopotamus and missing his two front teeth. I think that we have is beyond physical, and that's the part that terrifies me.

"So, are you ready to surf?"

"Do you remember the last time I braved the water? It didn't end so well."

Ross laughs, catching my hand in his and tugging me towards the section of the beach marked off for surfers by two yellow flags. "C'mon," he says, "I'm sure you'll be great."

I somehow doubt that. For a minute, I remember a particularly tragic sixteenth birthday party at the roller skating rink that ended with a face-to-floor collision and me wearing orthodontic headgear to prom. Not exactly my finest moment, but at least this can't be worse than that.

"I can be a pretty difficult student," I say, tugging on Ross's arm and grinning up at him.

"I taught five year olds how to surf last summer, so I'm pretty sure I can teach you," Ross says with a teasing smile.

"Hey, Ross, Riley!"

I force myself to look away with Ross--which takes me a solid ten seconds--to see Earnest waiting for us with a few surfboards next to him.

"There's my favorite surfer extraordinaire," Ross says, releasing my hand to slug Earnest in the shoulder.

"Surfer extraordinaire?" I repeat. "Wow, I feel like I'm in the presence of greatness."

Ross throws his arm around Earnest and says, "Hey, this guy has won a few east coast tournaments in his day. He's more than a pretty face."

Earnest blushes under the praise, shoving Ross's arm off of him. "Shut up already. I brought you guys a couple of longboards and leashes."

"Leashes? Like for dogs?"

Earnest looks at me like I only have half a brain. "No, for your ankle, so you don't lose your board when you fall."

Genius, Riley. My face flames with embarrassment, and Ross, great boyfriend that he is, laughs outright at me. Earnest just looks confused by my stupidity.

"Ready to get started, Ry?" Ross asks and I nod.

On cue, Ross strips off his shirt and I stare at him like a teenager going through puberty. Thank you, years of physical labor and a decade of summers in the sun, for creating this beautiful specimen of manhood.

"Riley? You ready?"

Crap. I stared for too long. "Uh, yeah. Yep."

I hastily pull off my t-shirt and linen shorts, revealing my pasty, curveless body in a faded Speedo one-piece. Sexy. Ross passes me a yellow longboard and shows me how to attach the leash to the ankle of my dominant leg, and I velcro that sucker on. After my last bout with the ocean, I may need to depend on my surfboard to be a flotation device, and that won't work if I lose it in a wave and it brains my lifeguard boyfriend, knocking him unconscious.

"Ready to give it a try?" Ross asks, and I look out at the oceans.

How the heck am I supposed to stand on a foam board on top of one of those undulating waves? Ross has severely overestimated my coordination skills.

"C'mon, Ry. It'll be fun," he says, slipping his arms around my waist from behind and kissing my temple.

I tilt my head back so I can look up at him. "Are you sure we can't just stay on the beach and make out?"

His half-lidded eyes linger on mine and then drop to my lips. "That's tempting, but no. I'm showing you reasons to love this island, and the surfing is one of them. I swear you'll have fun."

"Fine," I grumble, picking up the bulky surfboard and marching to my death.

At first, the surfing doesn't seem too hard. I lie on the board on my stomach and paddle with my hands, and it's not as awful as I thought it would be. In fact, it's a lot like swimming without half of the effort. To my right and left, Ross and Earnest start to actually surf, jumping from the position I'm in to their feet and then crouching on the board with their arms out for balance.

I watch as they ride the waves in towards the beach, balancing like it's as easy as riding a bike--which, for the record, can be harder than it looks. Ross takes a few spills on some of the bigger waves, but Earnest is a master, balancing and coasting towards the beach with little effort. He turns his surfboard halfway through the wave and I wonder for a second if he's going to do a flip--can you do flips on surfboards?

"Okay, enough laying around," Ross finally says, abandoning his surfboard on the beach to help me. "You ready to give it a try?"

"Nope."

"Great. Paddle your board out until you're in the whitewater."

I obey his directions, and he remains standing a few feet away from me. I wish he were closer, but he's smart to keep himself out of harm's way. There's no telling what's going to happen when I attempt this.

"Okay," Ross instructs, yelling over the crashing of the surf. "Now, that you're in the middle of the whitecaps, turn your board."

I clumsily paddle myself in a circle so I'm facing the shore with the waves lapping against my feet. "Like this?" I yell as a wave crashes over me, filling my mouth with saltwater.

"Yep. Now look over your shoulder, and when you see a wave coming, push yourself off the board and onto your feet, dominant foot back, in a crouch. Just like Ernie and I showed you."

I crane my neck back, pushing up on the board in an imitation of an overweight seal, and I see a wave crashing towards me. Crap. I'm not ready for this. I draw in a deep breath of the salty air and press my hands against the board. Just stand up.

I push against the board and spring to my feet, but my right foot doesn't plant on the board and I go flying off of the board. The wave engulfs me and I tumble under the water, my ankle stinging as the leash keeps the board close to me. I flail my arms and resurface, my hair plastered over my face.

"Riley, are you okay?"

Hands catch on my waist and pull me upright, and I spit a mouthful of saltwater out of my mouth. "Pah--yeah, I'm good."

I rake my hands through my hair to eradicate my resemblance to Cousin It, combing the long dirty blonde strands behind my ears. I blink my stinging eyes and look up at Ross, who still holds my waist with a teasing grin on his face.

"You sure? That was quite a fall."

I shove him away with a grin. "I'm fine--don't need any rescuing here."

"Ready to try again?"

I reach for his arm and pull him back towards me, looking up at him with my best imitation of puppy dog eyes. "I have to try again? Why don't I just watch you and Ernie?"
Ross catches my face with his hand, wiping a trail of saltwater from across my cheekbone. "You're not getting away that easy."

I turn towards him so we're chest to chest, body to body, and weave my arms around his shoulders and neck. "Oh really?"

Maybe if I kiss him long enough he'll forget all about surfing and we can go back to the beach and lie in the sun.

He leans toward me, his hot breath leaving a trail of goosebumps on my cold neck. I take his face in my hands, his stubble rough and scratchy beneath my fingertips, and pull him toward me. There's no hesitancy in the way we kiss now--we kiss like we'll never have the chance to again. We kiss like the world might end tomorrow. Ross reaches for me, one hand tangling in my wet, stringy hair and the other taking my chins and angling my face so he can deepen the kiss.

My eyes flutter shut, damp eyelashes cold on my cheeks, and I lean into him, the water rushing and whistling around us as if we're in the midst of our own personal whirlpool. Ross pulls away from me just a little so I can see his eyes inches from mine.

"Hey, you're really pretty," he says, voice an octave lower than normal. He runs his finger along the side of my face and across my cheekbones and nose. "And also kind of hot."

"Just kind of?" I tease. "Rude."

He just laughs at me and the sound is rich and reverberates through my chest. He leans down to kiss me one more time and then pushes me away, gesturing to the abandoned surfboard floating beside us.

"Okay, no more distractions. Go again."

"Dang, you're a drill sergeant, and I would know thanks to Colonel Eugene Olson."

A yell from the beach interrupts us. "Riley, your phone's been ringing incessantly for the last ten minutes. You might want to answer it."

Ross and I both look over and grin at Earnest, forgotten on the beach. "Coming!" I yell, unhooking my leash and tossing it to Ross with a grin. "Have fun!"

I sprint through the waves, nearly falling a few times, and jog towards my discarded shorts where my phone lies. I pick it up and see a few missed calls from Mom. Is something wrong? Ever since they pawned me off on the Covingtons, I've heard hardly anything from either Mom or Dad. I talked to Mom a few weeks ago about my career and going back to school, but got so frustrated that I had to hang up. Maybe Great Aunt Jemima--yes, that's actually her name--finally kicked the bucket and we inherited her fabulous fortune.

"Riley? Is that you?"

Mom's voice is laced with static and I hear her curse their cell phone service provider as if AT&T is personally responsible for the static on the line.

"Yep. What's wrong? Did somebody die?"

"Don't be so vulgar, darling. Everything's fine, but your father and I have pulled some strings at Cornell and we need you to be there this evening for a series of interviews that will allow you to be readmitted to go after--what was it you said you were interested in?"

My jaw drops but I somehow mumble the answer through the haze of confusion. "School psychology."

"Right. If you're serious about this, we can help you get back into Cornell with a generous donation to the new sports complex. But you have to get here by this evening. Your father and I will meet you here."

No. I can't leave. And suddenly the two forces in conflict reach a crux, between my career and Ross. The summer is drawing to a close, and if Cornell does let me in, I might not have a chance to come back to the island before I start school again in the fall.

"But what about the Island--can I come back?"

"I don't know, darling. I thought you didn't even like it? Just pack up your things and get here--that is, if you're serious about this. If not, your father and I will not be providing you with any fiscal support for your career."

An ultimatum. My career, or my summer with Ross. I thought I had more time to end things, more time to reconcile myself to the coming demise of our eager relationship, but not anymore. I have to choose.

I hang up and drop my phone into the sand, turning to find Ross approaching me on the beach.

"Ross, I have something to tell you."

~~~~~

What do you think she's going to do? If she leaves, she might never see Ross again, but if she stays, she misses her chance at getting back into Cornell. What should she do?