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surf stoke you’ll spend the rest of your life craving it.
    I caught another seven or eight waves and I stayed on one too long, so that by the time I hopped off my board, I was knee-deep in whitewater slop.
    I started paddling back out, but the sets were close together without much of a break and I was really getting pounded in the impact zone. A couple of times I was pinned down in the gray darkness and, even though I made myself flow not fight, it was exhausting to be shaken like that, with my lungs screaming for air.
    I had a crazy ice-cream headache and my arms felt like spaghetti from all the paddling. I gave up trying to reach the line-up and bodysurfed the inside whitewater back to the beach. I padded through the pools, which felt unbelievably warm compared to the chilly sea, and sank down on the sand.
    I thought I’d take a quick break to catch my breath. Killer. I let myself feel tired and that was it. I was done.
    I checked my watch again and saw that we had been in the water for nearly two hours.
    It was getting cold, my mouth was parched and I was starving.
    I got up and walked around, searching the water for a glimpse of Zeke, when it occurred to me that I didn’t have to wait for him to finish his session; I knew where he’d left his van keys,so I could stash his board and go home, without prolonging the awkwardness any longer.
    I was just sliding the board into the van, when I heard someone shouting my name.
    Zeke must have been keeping an eye on me after all, because there he was behind me, looking surprised that I hadn’t waited for him.
    He high-fived me and said, “You scored some epic rides. That first tube? If you’d spent any longer in there you’d have had to pay rent, huh?”
    I smiled.
    “Everything OK?” he said.
    “Long day,” I said, feeling some serious bed gravity. “A few nasty wipeouts. Swallowed a bit of water.”
    “Me too.”
    He didn’t look like he’d swallowed a load of seawater. He looked great and he was glowing from the exertion.
    “Yeah? You looked like a pro out there.”
    He grimaced a bit. “I always swallow some water when I’m duck-diving.”
    I nodded. It happened. Normally went up your nose.
    “Deliberately. It’s almost a superstition now. I figure if I get a little of the sea in me right at the start, then my body will know how to handle this stuff all around it, or something. So I drink a little before every session. For luck, I guess.”
    That was crazy. There was no other way of putting it. You did not go around swallowing seawater if you could possibly help it. Seawater was horrendous on the kidneys. Even with a light surf session, I’d have to drink a ton of water afterward.
    I looked at him and there was something so serious in his eyes that I didn’t want to mock him. I wanted to be there with him, believing that a mouthful of saltwater could educate your body, keep you lucky.
    The light was failing, the sky overhead changing from deepest blue to silver, the horizon taking on a hint of the coming sunset. The wash of the sea was loud in my ears, even with the wind that had begun to swirl across the cliffs.
    “I could coach you, you know. If you like.”
    I didn’t know what to say to that, other than, “Why?”
    “Why not? You charge real hard. You’ve got something.”
    “Me? I only learned to surf three summers ago.”
    “Seriously? I started on a stand-up when I was four.”
    “Ah, so that’s why you’re so good,” I said, without thinking. He gave me this big smile, but I wasn’t buttering him up, I was just being honest. Anyone with eyes could see he was the best surfer out there.
    Zeke grabbed a towel and started stripping off. He turned toward the van, working his way out of his wetsuit and pulling on his shorts. I did the same. For a split second, as the wind caught his towel, I saw a flash of butt.
    “Come on,” he said, turning back to me, “let’s go grab some coffee.”
    “That sounds good, but honestly, I am so