Sea Breeze by Patricia D. Eddy, Jennifer Senhaji Page B

can’t turn away.
    My straw makes a suction noise. I swivel my chair back around and catch Eric watching me as he wipes down the well bottles. I nod my head in the international signal for “I need another drink,” and he starts pouring a second Sea Breeze, Stoli, heavy on the grapefruit. When I take in his cold demeanor as he approaches, I reconsider my previous behavior.
    “Will there be anything else?”
    “Jordan. My name is Jordan. Sorry, that was rude of—”
    Bam. Boom. Smack.
    My shoulders raise and I duck my head as the racket of what must have been a complete and totally painful wipeout startles me.
    “Man down?” I ask, barely containing my laughter.
    “Don’t look.” Eric shakes his head, a stern look on his face as if he’s witnessing a tragic accident. And now I feel guilty.
    “I’m a bad person. Shit, is she okay?” I turn and see her, ass-up, her wedgie in the face of the lifeguard as he struggles to try to grab her in an appropriate way.
    “They should really put a warning sign on that thing that says it’s for experienced surfers only.”
    They’ve got her out of the water. She looks fine, and walks out of the pool area with her suit between her cheeks. I can’t help but burst out laughing. Eric tries to hold it in, but his shoulders are shaking.
    “Have you ever ridden that thing? Is it really that hard?”
    “Yes and yes. I barely made it out of there with my board shorts still on. Nope. Not gonna risk the money-maker.” He motions to his face like a game show host and a guffaw escapes me.
    “Jordan, was it?”
    “Yeah. Sorry for being rude earlier.”
    “No problem.”
    He nods toward the wave pool and I watch another victim step up to the plate. This time it’s a girl, maybe between sixteen and eighteen: Lean, strong body, wearing a bikini top and board shorts. She steps on with a shaky step, and I clutch the railing on the bar. She finds her balance, starts slowly, and rides the wave up and down the pool, back and forth. Every muscle in my body tenses as I internally cheer her on.
    “Yeah!” She ends her ride and I let go a loud shout of approval with both hands up in the air. “That was awesome. Did you see her?” Eric whistles behind me, and I turn toward him, smiling as he claps his hands together a couple of times.
    “Yeah. She was good. Obviously surfs regularly, but that was good.” He flashes me another smile, only this time it’s more natural. Less practiced. I finish my drink and ask for my tab. He asks for my sea pass and I dig it out of my satchel. “Do you want to purchase a beverage package?”
    “Um, can’t I pay for my drinks at the bar?”
    “You can, but it’s better to have a package.”
    “No, I’ll pass. I don’t think I’m going to be spending much time at the bar.”
    He scans my sea pass into the system. “Here you go. The charge has been added to your room.”
    “Oh, okay.” I dig ten dollars out of my pocket and place it on the bar for a tip as a scream sounds overhead. I’m about to duck and cover when Eric points overhead to the girl racing across the zip line. My heart beats a little faster and instantly I know I have to try it. “See ya.”
    “Bye.” I barely hear him as I race toward the end of the boat to where a line has formed.
    Giddy, I fill out the waiver and hand over my sea pass. They strap me into the harness and give me all the directions as my pulse races.
    It’s my turn. My bag is safely stored in the locker, and it’s only me and the sky and the ocean. Deep breath in. I grab hold of the handle with my right hand and let go a squeal when I no longer feel the floor with my feet. Wind pushes the hair out of my face as I fly over the ship, the water so far below. My speed increases, and I race over the surf bar. A combination of a scream and laugh escapes me as Eric’s head pops up and he waves to me from below.
    Freedom. Yes. I finally feel alive.

Chapter Three
    O n the third day, we arrive in San Juan, Puerto