JENLISA: Fight for you

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Lisa's POV

Surfing is a solitary sport, one in which long stretches of boredom are interspersed with frantic activity, and it teaches you to flow with nature, instead of fighting it . . . it's about getting in the zone. That's what the surfing magazines say, anyway, and I mostly agree. There's nothing quite as exciting as catching a wave and living within a wall of water as it rolls toward shore. But I'm not like a lot of those dudes with freeze-dried skin and stringy hair who do it all day, every day, because they think it's the be-all and end-all of existence. It isn't. For me, it's more about the fact that the world is crazy noisy almost all the time, and when you're out there, it's not. You're able to hear yourself think."

This is what I was telling Jennie, anyway, as we made our way toward the ocean early Sunday morning. At least, that's what I thought I was saying. For the most part, I was just sort of rambling, trying not to be too obvious about the fact that I really liked the way she looked in a bikini.

"Like horseback riding," Jennie mumbles

"Huh?" I asked in confusion

"Hearing yourself think. That's why I like riding, too." Jennie tries to explain

Despite the hour, the air was already warm. We spent a few minutes in the sand near the water's edge going over the basics of surfing, and I explained how to pop up on the board. When Jennie thought she was ready, I waded in carrying the board, walking beside her.

"Hold on, hold on!" she shouted from behind me. "Stop, stop . . ." I turned. Jennie was on her tiptoes as the first splashes of water hit her belly, and her upper body was immediately covered in gooseflesh. She appeared to be trying to lift herself from the water.

"Let me get used to this. . . ." She gave a few quick, audible gasps and crossed her arms. "Wow. This is really cold. Holy cow!"

Holy cow? It wasn't exactly something my buddies would say. "You'll get used to it," I said, smirking.

"I don't like being cold. I hate being cold."

"You live in a place where it snows."

"Yeah, but we have these things called jackets and gloves and hats that we wear to keep warm. And we don't thrust ourselves into arctic waters first thing in the morning."

"Funny," I said. She continued to hop up and down.

"Yeah, real funny. I mean geez!" Geez? I grinned. Her breathing gradually began to even out, but the gooseflesh was still there. She took another tiny step forward.

"It works best if you just jump right in and go under instead of torturing yourself in stages," I suggested.

"You do it your way, I'll do it mine," she said, unimpressed with my wisdom.

"I can't believe you wanted to come out now. I was thinking sometime in the afternoon, when the temperature was above freezing." "It's almost eighty degrees." I said arguing

"Yeah, yeah," she said, finally acclimating. Uncrossing her arms, she took another series of breaths, and then dipped maybe an inch. Steeling herself, she slapped a bit of water on her arms. "Okay, I think I'm getting there."

"Don't rush for me. Really, take your time." I said in a teasing tone

"I will, thank you," she said, ignoring the teasing tone.

"Okay," she said again, more to herself than me. She took a small step forward, then another. As she moved, her face was a mask of concentration, and I liked the way it looked. So serious, so intense. So ridiculous.