like cold ocean to the face

We dance in and out of the waves, feet sickeningly cold as we scramble to warmer sands.

But one by one they dive, surface breathless, hair slicked back and mouths wide.

"Let's go, Dee! I'm coming with you!"

Knee-deep in the water and suddenly the waves curl higher--not this wave--no, not this one--too cold, too cold--"Let's go!"--we run--she pauses--I plunge--stand up with one triumphant fist in the air, the other clutching my bikini top.

Victory.