❝You can't stop the waves, but you can learn to face them.❞
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After wiping out on the waves and spending the last six months in a physical therapy centre recovering, pro-surfer Thalia Monroe, heads to the small coastal town of Sandy...
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*trigger warning | panic attacks*
"IF YOU FALL in, I won't rescue you. I own a surf shack and teach kids to surf. I'm not a lifeguard."
Atlas has made his feelings very clear on my idea. His tone of voice gave away that he thinks it's the worst idea in the world and I can't help but snort at his admission. He shakes his head as we walk down the wooden steps that lead to the smaller beach across from his apartment block. Both of us carrying our surfboards and me with a beach bag.
Ever since I brought up the idea of the favor I needed help with, he was reluctant. I know my therapist has been on me about baby steps, but maybe a bigger push is what I need.
"Nice to know I can count on you," I deadpan, and he shrugs, turning his head slightly to face me as he walks in front of me with a small smile on his face.
"So, if that was to happen to me, you'd jump in and rescue me?" Atlas provokes, testing me as we place our boards down on the sand. He places his hands on his hips as he stands in front of me, wearing a rash guard and board shorts, like my own rash guard and bikini bottoms, looking at me and I keep quiet. He laughs. "See, you're just as bad as me."
"I'd struggle to pull your body weight out of the water," I scoff, and he places his hand on his heart, feigning hurt.
"Are you calling me fat?" He exaggerates and I roll my eyes before he lifts his rash guard up a little, revealing his toned abs that he looks down at. "My mirror has been lying to me all this time."
I shake my head and can't help but laugh. "You must have one of those fun house mirrors."
"Harsh, sunshine. Harsh."
"Is sunshine really what you're sticking with?" I ask him, and he thinks about it for a minute, tapping his chin for emphasis.
"It's ironic, don't you think? It suits you." Atlas winks and I sigh. Guess we're sticking with it.
Kneeling on the sand, I grab my wax comb from the bag and scrape off all the old wax. Atlas lies on the sand as I do, as he already had waxed his board for the season. Meanwhile, mine haslaid in the dust since my accident and hasn't been waxed in that time. Waxing my board used to be therapeutic for me, but I couldn't bring myself to at all since being here. Not when I knew I wasn't getting back on it.
"Don't you usually visit June today?" I ask Atlas since it's day off and that means his day to visit June.
"Yeah, but she took a water aerobics class and they go out to the rec centre in the town, so I'm not going today," Atlas says, resting his arms behind his head as he basks in the sun.
"Water aerobics?" I ask, amused, as I apply the base coat.
