Someday The Waves ✔ *Wattys15 Winner*

Chapter Eleven

Sunday afternoon, late June

        

        After labouring my way through the list of Poppy's house chores and after vacuuming up a blankets worth of knotted yarns and threads, I found myself out in the garage, frantically trying to change the deflated back tire on my bicycle and failing miserably.

A new one had arrived over the weekend, and I hadn't given it much thought, until Noah had messaged about taking a bicycle ride down to Hillside. After many failed attempts to take off the old one, and replace it, my hands coated in oil and dirt, I decided it was best to call Noah and beg him for help instead. 

True to his word, he'd cycled round early and bought the tools and knowledge I lacked to fix it, with a smile on his face the whole time as I stood and asked dumb questions, in an attempt to show that I wasn't completely useless but really I was. Otherwise, I could have fixed the damn thing myself.

When his own hands were slick with grease, dark smudges across his forehead where he'd wiped his brow and oil all over his nice, red flannel shirt, Noah had proudly announced my bike was fit to ride again, and how we should get going before the afternoon was over.

I'd tried to casually inquire about what we were going to do in Hillside, once we'd taken the long route there but he just smiled and put his finger to the tip of his nose, because apparently it was a secret.

"You think you'll be okay?" he'd asked before we set off, the sun in our eyes and wind on our backs, as I circled the driveway, trying out the new tire.

"I'll be fine." I'd replied confidently, although I had an uneasy feeling in my stomach, because I still wasn't comfortable riding the kid's old bike but I wanted to go with Noah on his top-secret adventure. My lack of balance wasn't about to get in the way of that.

As we peddled side by side down Ocean Drive, and onto the main stretch with Hillside far off in the distance, I was careful to keep my hands firmly on the breaks, just in case.

Noah of course was encouraging, turning back over his shoulder so often I worried that it would be him who might fall when I begun to slip behind, warily dodging groups of tourists and other bicyclists as we hit the boardwalk.

It was odd to be on the same path where I'd only weeks ago managed to bruise and batter myself and how begrudgingly I'd taken the trip to Hillside, not expecting anything to come from it – not least Noah.

Now I was back on it, with someone to look out for me as I weaved over the sand and breathed in the salty air. Watching Noah effortlessly, kick back on his peddles and lean away from the handlebars, his satchel swung over his back and his hair carried upwards by the wind was enthralling, and I couldn't take my eyes off him even when I was supposed to be concentrating.

Something Noah clearly noticed, as he called back for me to keep my eyes on the path, when I almost rode over a large rock, to the edge of the sand.

I wanted to tell him why I'd been distracted but couldn't, obviously.

So I kept my eyes firmly focussed until we hit a new path, one I hadn't been on before – since I never made it to Hillside the last time. As we coasted along, I saw rows of pastel coloured beach houses give way to a long stretch of shops, cafes and a breath taking endless beach, that extended further than any of Pesmo's.

"Welcome to Hillside." Noah announced as we slowed down, eventually walking the rest of the way because the boardwalk was too busy.

Following his lead, I chained my bike against his next to an impossibly tall palm tree, and walked beside him to the sandy wooden steps, that snaked downwards the vast beach, already over crowded with families, sun seekers and surfers.