"Phew, let me tell you something, guys," Marina mumbled while chewing on her yuca fries, "these surfer guys are simply hot. I mean, I always thought it not true but apart from their huge ego, I get why they're so coveted."
I rolled my eyes. Even after her less pleasant encounter with exactly one of these surfer guys she wouldn't shut up about how great surfers were.
It didn't help that the beach we had been to today was swarmed with ripped, tanned, crooked-grinning surfers.
I reminded her time and time again that a surfer had almost thrown hands at her, simply because she got in his way but she only put me off. She had found a new type while I believed most of these guys were egocentric.
This time, I stayed silent though. I just kept munching my delicious food. We were sitting on raffia chairs in this cute restaurant by the street, surrounded by palm trees and bathed in the early evening sun.
Cheap drinks, anazing food, lovely company. Life was great, the day was perfect.
I was wrong - too quick to judge.
All of a sudden the squeaking noise of car tyres on asphalt sounded as a dusty blue pickup truck drove too quickly in the roundabout. We all turned our heads towards the source of the noise.
The windows were rolled down and loud Spanish music was blasting from the speakers.
A guy with a flamboyant Hawaiian shirt put his arm on the outside of the car door on the passenger side to support himself and stick his head out the window. Mocha brown curls were tousled by the airflow, a big boxy grin on his face as he directly looked at me.
It was the angry surfer douchebag from the beach.
"Eh, guapa!" he yelled, waving at me, "you look sexy today! There's a party tonight at..."
His voice was blown away by a breeze as the car drove around the roundabout. I looked at it dumbfounded.
The truck came back around. He was still hanging halfway out the window, smiling widely.
"9pm, in El Remo. You should come, all of you!" he finished his sentence when the car came back around for the second time.
He winked at me and his friend, the driver, laughed. Probably at my flabbergasted face.
But before the truck took the next exit I overcame my initial shock and flipped him off. His winning smile grew even bigger.
Prick. Who did he think he was, catcalling me from a moving car?
"What the fuck was that?" I snorted in annoyance and drank a big sip of my cocktail.
"I think that was our entertainment programme for tonight," Greta said, nodding enthusiastically, her gaze suggestive.
"No... you don't actually...," I muttered in disbelief, looking at every one of them. They all seemed to be thrilled with the idea.
"Oh no," I tried to object, shaking my head vehemently.
"Oh yes," Ally said with a smirk, "we're going. All of us."
"More hot surfer guys," Marina whooped and clinked glasses with Greta.
"Yay," I joined in dryly, finishing my drink with three big gulps.
No matter how much I complained, we were going to that party by the beach. They dragged me along, deaf to my continuous whining.
A part of me was glad that I came with, however, because the little bars and tents were built up right by the beach where you could hear the swooshing sound of the waves and see the sun set in about half an hour.
