Riptide

Chapter Two: Surf Comp

I’m on the beach to see the sun rising, and I’m not even the first one here. There is a streak of orange across the horizon, and the silhouettes of surfers etched against the orange sky. I walk into the ankle deep water, my board resting on my hip. When the water reaches my waist I push my board out in front of me. I sink onto it, enjoying the cold water on my skin. I push myself over the smaller waves until I get out beyond the breakers and into the back, where the other surfers are waiting. I don’t see anyone I know by name, but I recognise a few of the locals.

It’s a slow morning for waves, but it’s the first day I’m here and there was no way I was waiting to get out into the surf. It’s been too long since I’ve surfed Australian waves. I did try out some of the waves while I was in France, but I didn’t have my own board with me, and I wasn’t as familiar with the conditions. But now I feel like I’m home.

My first wave is a disaster. I paddle too soon, get too keen, and end up in the water. But I paddle out again, determined that I’ll get a good set before heading back in for breakfast.

I watch a few of the locals catch waves, and then eventually it’s my turn. It’s getting busier now, and warmer. The sun is already hot on my back, but I love it. I see a good wave coming and I get ready. But there’s another surfer just in front of me, and I can see he’s spotted the same wave. I almost sit back, thinking that I’ll let him catch it, until I recognise the dark blonde hair and the broad shoulders. It’s Ryan. I didn’t even see him come out.

He hasn’t noticed me. He’s started paddling, and I paddle hard too, ready for the wave. I get onto it this time and when I stand up I’m eye-to-eye with Ryan. He has to pull up short, and the wave breaks over him, dumping him. I cut through the wave past him, laughing. I look back to see him spluttering in the water, trying to turn his board back over.

He’s already reached the shore by the time I’m paddling in. By the time I’m untying my leash rope he’s halfway up the beach, and I have to run to catch up to him, which is hard while carrying a huge surfboard.

‘Hey!’ I say, jumping in front of him and cutting him off with my board. ‘Hi stranger.’

He’s definitely grown up a lot since I saw him last. His hair is a lot longer and shaggy. Surfer hair. His nose is crooked now; maybe he broke it playing sport. But he’s got those same dark eyes and that familiar scowl that reminds me a lot of his father.

‘Indy,’ he says. ‘Didn’t know you were coming back.’

‘I went to Europe, not Mars,’ I say. ‘How have you been?’

He narrows his eyes and pushes past my board. There is a fraction of a second where his arm brushes against mine, and I feel a swoop in my stomach. This is the first time Ryan has touched me since what happened two years ago. Just a gentle brush of his skin against mine is enough. But he’s still walking. I fall into step beside him, and eventually he says, ‘I’ve been fine.’

I swallow. He’s abrupt, tense, unresponsive. It might be because I cut him off in the surf, but I think he’s still harbouring his anger at me.

‘I noticed you’ve brought a girl this year. What’s her name?’ I say this coolly, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world for me to be asking Ryan about another girl. I’m supposed to be his girl.

‘Rose,’ he says. ‘She’s my girlfriend.’

‘Cool,’ I say. ‘You guys should come round for tequila Tuesday.’

‘I’ll put it in our calendar,’ he says gruffly.

‘Hey,’ I say, and I reach out and grab his board, stopping him.

He turns and looks at me.

‘We’re not gonna let what happened last summer get between us, are we?’ I ask weakly. ‘We’re still friends, right Ry?’

‘You mean two summers ago,’ he says. ‘Last summer you were in Europe.’

‘Right,’ I say, choking on fake laugh. ‘To me that was winter. It was fucking cold. I missed the sun. But my point still stands. We’re friends, right?’

He sighs, running a hand through his wet hair. ‘Yeah, Indy, we’re friends.’

I let a flicker of a smile cross my face. ‘Then I guess that friendly competition is on again. I haven’t had much practice, but I certainly kicked your butt in the surf this morning.’

‘You cut me off,’ he says. ‘The locals will come for you if you’re being shitty in the surf. And anyway, surfing’s not a competition.’

I pull a face. ‘There are surf comps. Everything’s a competition.’

He gets a determined look on his face. ‘Fine. Comp’s on.’

‘Wanna get breakfast?’ I ask him. ‘Or are you supposed to be hanging with your girlfriend?’

‘She won’t be awake until at least eleven,’ he says. ‘I’ll get food with you. I just need to grab some money.’

We walk back to our neighbouring houses. I hose down my board, lean it against the side fence, and run inside to grab shorts and cash. When I get back outside Ryan is waiting for me. I smile at him. He’s swapped his surf shirt for a singlet, but his hair is still messy and salty. It looks good this length.

‘How was school?’ I ask him as we’re walking down the street. Ryan is the same age as me, but he was below my year in school, so he just graduated.

‘You know how it is,’ he says, scratching the back of his neck. He’s musclier this year, and when he raises his arm up like that I notice the way his shoulder and arm muscles tense.

I laugh, because I definitely do not know how school is for Ryan. For one, we live in different states so our school system is totally different. But Ryan is also incredibly smart, whereas I definitely was not intelligent through school. I’m sure school was a very different place for Ryan.

‘How was Europe?’ he asks.

‘It’s hard to explain,’ I say. ‘But at least I can kind of speak French now.’

‘Can you?’ he says, with a hint of teasing. ‘Say something,’ he challenges me.

‘Bonjour,’ I say, and I laugh, pushing into him. He responds to my push by pushing back into me, and I revel in our contact, in the pressure of his arm against mine.

‘Well clearly you’re an expert,’ he says, grinning. ‘You’ll have to teach me. Like you taught me to surf.’

‘I think you taught me how to surf,’ I say, supressing a smile.

We reach the café on the main street. There’s a pretty girl with long black hair opening the roller door above the counter. She greets us and asks us how the surf was before asking for our order.