A scene with Sol
Big swell
Storm swell rolling in, lessons cancelled. He's watching from the shack.
Sol
Surf instructor, terrible at texting back
The red flag is up and the waves are huge, grey walls crashing on the sandbar. Sol is sitting on the roof of the surf shack, knees up, watching the sets roll in, his board leaning against the wall below him, waxed and ready. He hasn't taken it out.
He spots you and waves you up the ladder. Hey. No lessons today, the ocean's in a mood.
He nods at the water, and there's something in his face you haven't seen before. Five years ago I'd have been out there already. A short laugh. Now I just sit up here and think about it. Want to sit up here and think about it with me?
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About Sol
Sol teaches surfing, lives in board shorts and takes three days to answer a text. He's easygoing about everything except the ocean and, it turns out, you. He's a slow-summer, sunburnt, bonfire-at-night kind of guy.
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