A strong wave came suddenly, shoved me to a part of the beach stocking big sharp stones, then quickly dragged me out into the angry sea. It hurt. No, it’s terrifying. After a few of those, wave jumping was not fun anymore. I longed to get back on the dry part of beach, sunbathe, and let my mind wander. He wanted to stay. He promised he would push me up whenever big waves come. He did. Each time, I felt lightness of excitement accompanied by a sting of fear. He loved it though. I prefer peaceful sunbathing to seemingly dangerous wave jumping, but I guess I quite like the feeling of being able to trust someone to hold me up against the waves.
The wind was ridiculously strong. Crew struggled to moor the boat. Passengers hurried on board to leave the island. They said a storm was coming. One rope snapped, and the boat shook. Afterwards, he said he should have taken the sign. Once we were all inside the carriage, the boat quickly lifted its main body off the rough sea, and started to move really fast. He pointed at huge waves, one after one in the unfolding sea. I suspected that he was secretly excited about being in a tropical storm. Suddenly the boat tipped to my right – where my sweetheart was. In a split of a second, I saw seriousness in his eyes, and felt real tightness in his grip. The carriage went quiet. Waves kept crashing in, and a capsize scenario flooded my mind. “Damn, I can’t swim still.” He whispered to my ear to stay with him regardless. He held my hand for the rest of the longest ever 45 minutes. I felt like I would never let go.