Page 33 of The Surfer

Ripley Sailor wins this round.

* * *

We don’t listento music on the drive back home. I sit in the passenger seat next to Sandy in her expensive sports car as we wind through the hilly streets and beachside roads of New Water to get back to her place. We don’t even speak a word with each other the whole journey.

I’m only doing this because she pleaded with me so earnestly in the club.

I’m only doing this because I need the money that my Dad threatens to withhold.

I’m definitely not doing this for Ripley Sailor, no matter how cute I found her little act of defiance this morning.

Definitely not for her.

We arrive back home with a hard brake that makes me slam into my seat. I think it’s on purpose, my sister can drive real fast when she wants to. Sandy unlocks the door and we both walked into her house.

Here we go.

That American girl is sitting at the table, a half-drunk glass of white wine in front of her. She watches me enter with a cold look on her face.

Fuck it. Let’s get this over with.

I stroll right up to her. “Fine then,” I say as I pick up her glass and drink the rest of the wine contained within it in one go. Like her bedsheet-pulling stunt this morning, drinking the rest of her wine is my one little act of defiance. The wine’s warm, she’s been sitting here for some time, then. “Have it your way.”

The American girl looks up at me with those big brown eyes of hers. Yeah, alright, she’s kinda cute when she wants to be, I’ll give her that. She isn’t my usual type, though. Not at all.

“You’re seriously doing this?” she asks, not remarking on the fact I’ve just drunk her entire wine glass.

“There’s no way in hell I’m going surfing,” I reply. “But I can agree to teach you instead, is that good enough for you?”

She flashes me her teeth in a wonky geeky smile that is kinda adorable. “It’s perfect,” she says.

She really isn’t my type, but she’s actually super appealing to me.

“I’ll see you at ten tomorrow morning, then. Sandy will give you one of her wetsuits to wear.”

“No, the lesson will be at six in the morning.”

What? Defying me again?

The balls on this girl.

Damn, this girl doesn’t know when to stop, does she? She actually likes saying no to me.

No one says no to me.

“Okay, I’ll see you at nine, then.”

“Let’s make it seven,” she replies. She’s harder than she looks. “And that’s final.”

Fuck me, she really does have balls.

I have no option but to snarl at her like a wolf and storm off into my room.

Before I shut the door, I overhear Sandy saying to Ripley, “I think that’s a yes, then.”

Screw those girls.

I hoped they understand I’m only doing it for my money and not out of any kind of liking for Ripley fucking Sailor.