Aloha! Chapter 2 for y'all! Thank you for 31 reviews! You guys make me happppppy:D

-Recap-

"Was he cute?" Nudge cut into my thoughts.

"I guess. If you like that kind of thing," I said in a non-committal tone, while secretly thinking about his model-worthy body.

"I bet he—oh, shit. Dylan's calling me again. I should probably answer him this time. I'll see you tomorrow, okay?" I mumbled a goodbye, and hung up the phone with a soft click. The hammock I was laying in swayed in the warm breeze that flowed through the screened-in porch, because it was too hot to sleep inside, and I smiled to myself as I drifted off to sleep.

-End-

Chapter 2:

"This was a terrible idea." I said somewhat breathlessly as I pulled myself the rest of the way up to the tip of the towering rock formation, half a mile off the eastern beach of Seabrook island, Kiawah's neighboring island where most of our families actually lived. Kiawah was mostly filled with resorts, touristy businesses (like my families), and massive mansions. Seabrook island, though it was just across a river and still mostly considered part of the bigger island, was much more low-key, with salt-box houses lining the thin, rocky beaches, strawberry fields on the western portion and miles of mudflats on the southern tip, and many more hidden beaches and alcoves.

The beach that Sam and I had departed from was technically named Christopher Cove, but most of us island kids called it Creepy Cove due to the dull, colorless mudflats to the right and tall, craggy, dark rocks to the left, not to mention the story of the boy why had committed suicide by jumping off of one of said rocks with an anchor tied to him and his girlfriend. Layla, the witch-lady, (aka local crazy old woman), says that on the solstices, his soul still crosses back from the spirit world and waits for another victim to drag to the icy depths with him.

It has become something of a tradition to lure a couple townies out to the beach on the summer solstice, tell them the story, and then ditch them there for the night. One year, Gazzy decided to make it even more elaborate and dresses all in white, painted his face with a grizzly-looking leer, and wandered around wailing at the top of his lungs for a couple hours. The poor kids finally got so scared the one of them actually had asthma attack and we had to cancel the gig and bring them back to the mainland, but it was worth it. We still laugh over that night, and even though it didn't end so well, it didn't stop us from going back and doing the exact same thing to a couple island kids the next year. We were a bit more forgiving with them, though.

"Jesus, Max, look at the view, though!" Sam shielded his eyes from the sun and squinted at the horizon, the planes of his face casting dark shadows under his cheekbones. "So beautiful!"

We had paddled out to the small, isolated sand mound on our boards, and deposited them on the soft white beach before making out way up the massive rock that rutted out from the bottom of the ocean. I glanced tiredly out to where Sam was looking, and was…well, honestly, not that impressed. Sam was able to find beauty in almost everything, from the simplest, everyday objects ("Max, look at the inside of this peach! That way the color just explodes from the core…") to the most complicated scenarios that required a lot of deep thinking before you could even begin to understand what he was talking about ("Max, don't you find the life of a goldfish so incredibly amazing? It goes through every day with a five second memory span, and yet it still manages to find some sort of purpose.")

For me, though, peaches were for eating, goldfish were useless, and the sun was in my eyes. I broke out of my brief trance to find Sam staring at me intently. "Beautiful," he whispered again.

Woooooah, Nelly.

Sam and I were good friends, but he didn't hang out with my usual group because he was, well, Sam. He was a bit more on the shy side, preferring long walks and photography to hazing the townies and skinny dipping at the Flats in the wee hours of the morning. He was nice enough, and I liked him quite a bit, but not…like…that. At. All.

So, as he was leaning in to kiss me, you can imagine how relieved I was when my phone rang.

X

I was waiting on the beach for almost 15 minutes before Fang decided to make an entrance.

"Sorry. Some family stuff came up." was his only explanation, and he turned away from me quickly, shielding his face. I didn't want to press, so I stood up and grabbed my board.

I was clad in a yellow bikini top and orange wrap skirt over yellow boy-shorts style bottoms, gear I had thrown on after my little escapade with Sam. The wrap skirt was borrowed from Ride the Waves. Fang, however, was in a tee shirt and plaid shorts, definitely NOT something he would be wearing surfing. He would need to rent a board, too, so I decided paying a little visit to the shop wouldn't be a bad idea.

"Listen, you don't have to pay right now, but you'll need to rent a board and buy a suit…do you have a suit?" I asked as I sauntered up the gradual slope of the beach to the shop. I was closed today, as it was a Sunday, but I pulled the extra key out from behind the statue of an Easter Island head and opened the glass-paned door. "I can start keeping a tab for you, if you want."

"I'll get a new one. And a tab would be awesome." Fang intoned behind me as he entered the building. I flipped the light switches with my elbow and began scanning the room for the items we would need.

Fang picked out a pair of black board shorts, and I wrestled one of the seven foot rental boards off of the wall. Jamming it under my arm, I left Fang alone in the shop to change into his suit. Trying not to stare at his (perfect, sculpted) body too much when he came out, I locked up and jogged down to where I had left my board at the edge of the beach.

X

Ten minutes into the lesson, and I could already tell that Fang had the coordination of an Olympic hurdler, but the balance of a drunk five year old on a teeter-totter. He would try to stand, immediately begin to tip over, but would manage to turn his potentially embarrassing fall into a perfectly executed front flip before he hit the water. The waves were so small you could barley call them waves, so there wasn't really a danger of him getting swept away. I mostly hadn't interfered as he paddled out into the water, tried to stand, fell, and repeated. It was good for him to get a feel for the water, to make him more comfortable with the tide supporting his body weight.

I was currently sitting with my legs on either side of the surf board, staring at the horizon. I could hear Fang's whoops of surprise and, I expected, a certain amount of delight, behind me.

"Max!" he called.

"What's up?" I said back, spinning to face him. He ginned at me from where he was paddling in the water.

"I just wanted to say thanks," he began. "You know, for teaching me and stuff."

I cocked my head at him, tempted to let the warmth in my chest that urged me to let myself like him, to be his friend, take over. But, like always, I pushed it down, stiffed it, and then chopped it up into tiny pieces with a metaphorical butcher's knife.

"Don't thank me," I replied. "You're the one paying."

Yes, I'm aware that it has been forever. However, in my defense, I'm writing a novel. If any of y'all would like to read some of what I have so far, massage me!:)

Get me up to 50 reviews, and you'll find out why Max is so closed off from friendship, specifically from attractive men!