Tidal by Emily Snow

over to the counter, leaned my
    elbows on the smooth boards, and asked
    “Where is Cooper anyway?”
    Eric scratched the back of his head
    and yawned. “He’s a glutton for
    punishment. He’s out on the beach because
    he swears it de-stresses him.” He bent
    down close to me as if to share a secret.
    “And believe me, you stress the hell out of
    him.”
    “Thanks for the heads up. Good luck
    with your . . . bitch duties.”
    He sighed. “It’s not an easy job, but
    somebody’s got to.”
    Shaking my head, I left Eric standing
    there grinning like an idiot. I went out to
    Cooper’s backyard, the way we’d gone
    out the day before. He was wadding
    toward the shore, his golden hair wet and
    clinging to his forehead, his board tucked
    between his arm and body, his expression
    relaxed.
    The moment he saw me, though, that
    look immediately changed to a cocky half-
    smile, then surprise when his eyes
    dragged over the black halter top of my
    swimsuit. He gave me a little wave. I
    pressed my fist to my mouth to hide my
    smile and steadied myself against the
    outside of the deck for a moment. Then, I
    slowly sauntered down the beach toward
    him.
    He met me halfway.
    “Trying to get out of work by looking
    like that?” he asked.
    “Oh, please. It’ll take a lot more than a
    two-piece to convince you to go easy on
    me.”
    “Mmmm, good point, Wills. I will
    never, ever go easy on you.”
    My body heat jumped, but I radiated
    perfect confidence as I stepped out of my
    yellow shorts and shoes. I tossed them in a
    pile a few feet from my board, which he
    must have brought out with him earlier.
    “How will you torture my ass today,
    Boss?” I asked.
    The corner of his mouth tugged up.
    “Didn’t take you for that kind of actress,
    Wills.”
    My torture turned out to be the same as
    yesterday, but I was determined to show
    him I could handle his training. I spent the
    next hour and a half working on my form
    and asking him questions about his history
    as we worked.
    “How long have you been doing this?”
    “Since I was six so sixteen—almost
    seventeen—years,” he responded. He
    stood in front of me, tilted his head to the
    side, and then motioned for me to move
    my left foot back a little. I slid it back on
    the smooth surface of my purple and white
    board until he held up his hands for me to
    stop.
    “How many competitions have you
    won?”
    He pretended to think and then he
    asked, “How many movies have you
    starred in?”
    I narrowed my eyes. “Too many to
    count.”
    “Well there you have it.” He walked
    in a circle, examining me, and let out an
    annoyed sigh before coming up behind me.
    Placing his left hand on my hip, he touched
    the inside of my right thigh, moving it
    forward. My mouth flooded with moisture
    as I glimpsed down at his fingertips
    gliding across my bare skin. “There,
    perfect. Now, bend your knees.” I didn’t
    miss the hitch in his voice, or the way his
    touch on my skin felt too gentle, too
    lingering, for someone tasked with
    teaching me.
    I thought of the way his hands and
    mouth had felt on mine that night in my
    living room, and I traced the tip of my
    tongue over my lips, dampening them,
    before I cleared my throat. “So why’d you
    move from Australia?”
    He pinched the bridge of his nose,
    which was slightly chafed from spending
    so much time in the sun. “Show me
    everything you learned, starting with
    getting up off your board.”
    This was the first question of mine
    he’d ignored, so naturally, I wanted him to
    answer it. “If you tell me about Australia.”
    “Why? Planning a visit?”
    I shrugged. “Who knows? Maybe.”
    “Just . . .” He dragged his hands
    through his hair, a look of frustration
    suddenly clouding his features. “Go
    through the fucking basics, Wills.” The
    last few words were clipped and every
    muscle in my body went tense.
    This was a different side of Cooper—
    a vulnerable side—and to my
    mortification, I realized I was kind