Cult

Al, the conscience

Mr Cult looks from his son to me with great confusion on his face. He keeps looking back and forth between us as if one of us is going to explain.

My mouth dries up in a situation stuck between an awkward moment and the insane beauty of this boy. But all attractive boys want one thing - to mess you around and leave you wanting more. That's all there is to it.

Ross Cult.

"We, uh, ran into eachother in Starbucks," he smirks. I try to keep a straight face, "They spelt your name wrong by the way, Dad,"

"Again," Mr Cult huffs, shaking a hand and dismissing his son.

"It was nice to meet you," Ross smiles at me and slips out the door.

"So, when can you start?" Mr Cult smiles.

 I'm in my hotel room in my running shorts and and a baggy top. I'm pacing. Do I tell them I have a job? What will they say?

I'm sure they didn't think my move was permanent.

It's not, silly, Al tells me - Al is my conscience, You'll be going back when you miss the damned place. 

I continue to pace. I have a job! I can't just leave it after he willingly hired me.

Are you here for the job or the boy?

Ross Cult. I can't seem to get him off my mind. I've fallen for boys before, many. All ended unhappily. One even ended up with all three of my brothers with black eyes.

Oh, my brothers. They'll miss me. I'll miss them.

Shut up, you fool, they'll only miss you at the holidays. They have their girlfriends.

It's true. Apparently good looks run in the family. All three of my brothers haven't been able to stay dateless for over three years, especially Peter. It's astonishing. 

Exactly! Al shouts, You know it.

But what do I know? I'm just eighteen. At this age I'm supposed to make mistakes. It's as simple as that.

Is it?

No.

You like the boy.

I said nothing about the boy.

You keep thinking about the boy.

I sigh out loud. I slump down on my bed and look at the ceiling. I had it all planned out. If I didn't get a job, I'd head straight back home, be grounded for forever, but my parents would get over it and pay all the money I spent back. Now, however, I can actually make a living here. I thought that was what I wanted, but is it?

Now it is.

Why?

You know why.

I've felt this way before. It's just a crush.

I run to the bathroom and brush my teeth roughly. It is just a crush. How can it be anything more? I haven't even spoken to the guy! 

If this wasn't about him, you would have gone to your interview at the supermarket.

My stomach churns, and I know Al is right. I want to stay. It's not entierly about him, but parts of me do really want to get to know him, even though I'm certain I'm bound to get hurt. 

But I had a job! Did I need another interview?

Who knows? Might have been better pay.

Shut up.

The phone rings. It snaps me out of my argument with myself, and I slowly turn into my handbag and fish it out. It's neither of my brothers, it's unknown.

"Hello?" I ask.

"Hello? Alexandra?" I vaguely recognise the voice. My stomach flips.

"Yes?"

"This is Ross. Ross Cult, you know. From Cult Lagoon?" My stomach flips again. It's Ross.

You liiiiike him.

 Shut up!

"Oh!" I say it in a pitch that only dogs can hear. "Hello,"

He chuckles. "My dad asked me to ring so we can work out your hours?"

"I can work anytime,"

And overtime, with you.

Shut up!

"Great!" he says, "Do you want to start your first day tomorrow?"

"Uh, sure. I have nothing better to do."

"Awesome. Also," he sighs. The moment turns awkward. "My dad also insists on me giving you surfing lessons. He feels it nessecary that all his employees can surf,"

"In Tampa?" I ask.

Pull yourself together!

"Yeah, it's not a long drive to Holmes Beach. Very nice beach. Do you want me to drive?" he asks.

"Um..."

"Or do you want to drive?"

"I don't have a car," I whisper.

He laughs. "Looks like I'm driving then,"

I stay silent, at loss as to what to say.

Speak you foolish, idiotic girl! He wants to drive you to one of the most romantic beaches in all of Florida! Speak you damned moron!

"Will it just be us two?" I breathe.

Not that.

My stomach squirms.

"Yeah, just us two. Look I've got to go. I'll see you tomorrow at work, okay? Come in around 8 am. Looking forward to it, Alexandra," 

"Call me Alex," I splutter.

"Okay. See you, Alex,"

"Bye," I say, and hang up the phone. Al is jumping with joy, and I'm very close to joining in.