Episode 14: “A date?”
Today’s podcast is aptly titled “A date?”
And, no, there isn’t a grammar mistake.
The question mark is there for a reason.
[laughs]
I know, I know, I’m basically doing the podcast equivalent of vaguebooking right now, but before I can actually get to the meat and potatoes of today’s episode, I need to tell you something else.
Something that, well, made me see Ollie in a different light.
It made me second-guess my original jerk judgments more than I already was.
It made me open my heart up to him…even more than I already had.
And then, after that, the “A date?” won’t feel like a question hanging in the breeze.
[short pause]
It was the final day of the Tahiti Pro Waves Event, and the last surfer in the competition headed toward the sea for his closing run. He’d already had two misses on his first try, one that included a full-on wipeout and another where it appeared fear had crept into his head and prevented him from even attempting a ride.
I’ve never been one to get too invested in sports, obviously, but I was on pins and needles.
Braden Blanks is young, nineteen years old to be exact, and this was his first year participating in a competition like this. He’d yet to do anything spectacular, but I silently prayed this would be his moment. That this, right now, would be the exact perfect time for him to show the judges he was a surfer worth watching. An up-and-coming star shooting across the league of surfing’s massive sky.
I’d seen him in practice, and even though I was no expert on surfing, I was learning, and I’d seen this nineteen-year-old pull some impressive tricks.
[audible pause]
He was the underdog, no doubt about it, but even underdogs deserve a vote of confidence, you know? Hell, they probably deserve it the most.
Everyone gets their start somewhere, and I had my fingers and toes crossed that today would be day one of Braden Blanks pushing past the fear and anxiety that seemed to be holding him back.
His body became a blip once he passed the point of the small, little waves and reached the spot in the sea where the biggest waves waited for someone to challenge them.
The first big wave? Well, instead of turning and paddling with it, he sliced the tip of his surfboard into the water and dipped his entire body beneath it until he came up on the other side.
My heart dropped at the sight of it.
C’mon, Braden, I silently cheered him on.
But a minute or two passed, and then a few more minutes passed, and I prayed his ten minutes wouldn’t run out before another wave developed.
I held my breath and looked around the tent where everyone’s eyes seemed to be fixated on the sea, and it was apparent I wasn’t the only one hoping he could find some glory before the event was through.
Jordy stood at the edge of the tent, his wet suit pushed off of his arms and chest and resting on his hips, and his eyes stared out toward the waves.
“You got this, B!” he shouted with two cupped hands around his mouth.
I smiled at his words.
The men within the competition weren’t like most athletes.
Sure, they were all competing for first place and they all wanted to win the championship trophy, but that didn’t hold them back from cheering each other on and lifting each other up when it was needed.
If anything, it made me love the sport. Which said a lot, considering I literally love no sports.
[giggles]
The announcer’s voice rang out from the event speakers. “Five minutes,” he said, and I cringed at how quickly time was passing by.
“Get it, mate!” Ollie’s voice filled my ears, and I glanced over my shoulder to realize he’d left the commentators’ booth to stride up the beach and stand just at the edge of the water.
“Four minutes,” the announcer called out again, and I cringed that time.
Four minutes? Braden was running out of time.
He needed to jump into action.
He needed to do something.
But he just sat out there on his board, looking toward the horizon.
Ollie, on the other hand? Well, he jumped into action.
In a blur of quick movements, he turned on his heel, grabbed a board from the tent before sprinting toward the water again. Not even ten seconds later, he’d slipped off his flip-flops and T-shirt and headed into the sea, cargo shorts and all.
What in the hell is he doing? I wondered and squinted my eyes toward the ocean as he submerged himself in the water.
“Well, folks, it appears Oliver Arsen is joining Braden on this run?” the announcer questioned into the mic, just as confused as I was.
Everyone stood and watched as Ollie paddled out into the water.
A hush came over the crowd, but various versions of What is he doing? rang out in quiet whispers.
Once Ollie reached Braden, he stopped right beside him.
They both sat on their boards, their backs facing the sand, and I had no idea what was being said, but it was apparent that a conversation moved between them.
Ollie said something and reached out to pat Braden on the shoulder, and I pulled my camera up and in front of my face to snap a few pictures of the two of them.
Another wave brewed in the distance, and Ollie pointed toward the young surfer.
Whatever he’d said had spurred Braden into action.
Braden turned on his board and started paddling.
Ollie sat behind him, looking between Braden and the wave, shouting, “Go! Go! Go! You got this, mate!”
And then Braden was vertical, his surfboard securely beneath his feet and cutting through the water as one of the biggest waves I’d seen in the competition lifted him up.
He squatted down farther, holding his ground, and as the water curled around him and his board, he rode that fucking wave. Through the curl, along the edge, his hand slicing through the water beside him as he expertly showed the judges what a nineteen-year-old surfer from Alabama could do.
Everyone at the event pretty much lost their shit after that.
[giggles]
Hoots and hollers and cheers from not only the crowd sitting off to the side, but also, every single surfer inside the tent.
And, me? Well, I was so overwhelmed with joy that I felt emotion prick my damn eyes. Me, the girl who knew nothing about sports or surfing, for that matter, getting all emotional after watching a nineteen-year-old kid conquer his demons in the water.
[giggles]
Yeah, you guys, it was some Remember the Titans and Blue Crush kind of poignant shit, and I was nearly moved to tears over it.
Once Braden made his way out of the sea and his feet reached the sand, Jordy and a few of the other guys rushed toward him. They picked him up, celebrating his victory, and I snapped a few more photos of Braden in his glory moment.
But my camera also split its focus when Ollie stepped out of the water.
His cargo shorts were soaked and sagging from his hips.
But good God, I’d never seen such a glorious smile as he watched the spectacle of excitement before him.
I had no idea what he’d said to Braden, but it’d worked.
I snapped a few more pictures. Braden on Jordy’s shoulders. Ollie reaching up to give him a high five. The crowd losing their minds.
Braden wasn’t going to win the event, nor would he win the championship, but this had been his breakout moment. He’d more than proven that he could make some waves in the professional surfing world.
And hell if my heart hadn’t swelled inside my chest.
Not just because of Braden. But because of Ollie, too.
[sighs softly]
Actually, mostly because of Ollie.
In that moment, it was impossible for me to see him as anything but a good man.
A real jerk wouldn’t put someone else’s happiness above their own.
A real jerk wouldn’t go barreling into the sea in his damn clothes just to help a young kid be the best that he could be.
A real jerk wouldn’t make my heart feel like it’s two sizes too big for my chest.
[audible pause]
When I’d left the beach that day, I’d left with a head full of Ollie and a heart full of…well, Ollie.
Was I in love with him? I didn’t know.
But whatever I was feeling, it was a hell of a lot more than like.
He’d grown on me.
He’d seeped under my skin and entered my bones, and I’d reached a point where convincing myself to stay away from him not only felt like an impossibility, but it felt like the absolute wrong thing to do.
And now, I’m sure you’re wondering where the title of this podcast comes into play, huh?
[giggles]
Well, at a little after three that day, I’d reached the hotel and headed back up to my room.
And because it was actually the day that my first article in my surfing series went live, I’d chosen to leave my phone behind. I knew if I’d brought my phone to the event, I would’ve been too damn distracted with following the overall response to my column.
I had to make sure the last day of the Tahiti event had my full attention.
And thankfully, because of what I’d just witnessed on the beach, I already knew what article three of the series would be about—Braden Blanks, the underdog turned surfing star.
Obviously, though, when I got to my room, my curiosity was at an all-time high, and the first thing I did was snag my phone off the charger and tap the screen to find rows and rows of notifications.
Text messages from Allie.
Emails from Vanessa.
Instagram and Facebook and Twitter notifications from today’s posts.
Not to mention notifications from the Scoop site itself.
Please, God, let the article not suck, I silently prayed.
I clicked on Allie’s text first and was relieved when I saw her plethora of smiley and praising hands emojis and excited words. It appears I’m not the only one in love with your take on surfing. Way to go, Lucky! I knew you could do it!
Vanessa’s email was next. Short, curt, to the point, as always, but congratulations were laced within her words.
It was all good things.
I pulled up Scoop’s website and scanned through the comments on the article, and I was elated to see that readers were loving my amateur take on the world of surfing.
Instantly, all the pressure and anxiety that had taken up residence inside my chest since I’d woken up that morning dissipated.
I could breathe easy again.
Well, at least until the next article, right?
[giggles]
I grabbed my laptop from the nightstand and plopped down on the bed, prepared to respond to a few of the commenters to keep the article live and active, but I stopped when my phone chimed a notification.
A text message, you guys.
From Ollie.
Zoe sent me the article. And I guess it needs to be said, I was wrong about your journalistic approach.
I grinned like a loon at his words. And fired off a message of my own.
Hold the phone…is cocky Oliver Arsen admitting he was wrong about something??? I might pass out from the shock of it all.
He got a real kick out of that and even highlighted the part where I called him cocky.
Of course, he took it as some kind of pervy compliment.
Eventually, I took our playful back-and-forth straight to the point.
Is there a reason for these texts, besides the part where you admitted that you’re wrong and I’m the smartest, most amazing journalist alive?
[giggles]
Well, almost straight to the point, I guess.
He didn’t get straight to the point right away, offering up a few more witty messages, but eventually, he did. Are you free tonight for a celebratory dinner?
When I asked him what we were celebrating, he said the Tahiti event, and I sarcastically added we should also be celebrating that I proved him wrong.
He had no qualms with that, and after a few more messages, it was decided.
Eight p.m. Dinner. Ollie and me.
Obviously, celebrating proving Ollie wrong sounded like the most perfect reason for a dinner in my humble opinion.
[laughs softly]
I even smiled at the thought, but that smile faded pretty quickly when I started to comprehend that Ollie had just asked me to dinner.
And more than that, I’d agreed without hesitation.
Was it a date? I didn’t know.
Right then, I probably would’ve told you No way, that’s ridiculous. It’s just a friendly dinner.
I probably would’ve even acted like that’s how I looked at it, too.
But the fact that I’d immediately hopped off my bed and started trying to figure out what I was going to wear said otherwise.
Little black Calvin Klein dress or bright and flowy Italian silk skirt?
Nude pumps or sexy gold stilettos?
For a girl just going to a friendly dinner, I was putting some serious thought into my outfit selection…
I even tried to rationalize it all in my head.
I just want to look nice, I told myself.
But I think we all know better, huh?
Yeah, I wanted to look nice, all right.
But I was missing two key words at the end of that thought.
For Ollie.