How To Rule Your High School

Chapter 5: Surfer Boy

Angry guitar riffs wailed from my speakers as I sped through town. There was nothing I hated more than to be left looking like a slack-jawed idiot without a snappy comeback. In the few minutes it had taken me to cross town, I'd thought of no less than five perfectly witty responses that my brain had neglected to provide before Ethan had disappeared through the tinted sliding doors of the condo building. To attempt to alleviate my frustration I'd switched to angriest of rock stations and subconsciously started gnashing my teeth together. By the time I'd pulled in at home, I'd worked my temper down to a simmer, but I knew I needed some sort of outlet or the rest of my night would be ruined.

"I'm home!" I called to the huge house, dumping my keys in the dish by the door. There were no other cars around so my dad was probably still at work and my mom was probably still at some charity meeting or ladies lunch.

My phone buzzed while I was jogging up the stairs to my room. Deciding that whatever gossip Katie or whoever had to share could wait until I'd worked off my frustrations, I dug out some jogging clothes and laced up my shoes. Scraping my blowdried hair into a haphazard ponytail, I grabbed my iPod and headed out the door.

Driving, it's like 3 minutes to the beach. Jogging takes about 10, so it's the perfect warmup route. Inhaling the salty air, I propped my leg up on a bench, savoring the pull of my muscles as I stretched them out. Without really meaning so, my eyes scanned the wavy water and sure enough they settled upon a lone surfer among the myriads of kids that splashed in the shallows. Frowning a bit as I stretched my other hamstring, I wondered why he'd come so early. Normally he waited until about an hour before sunset, when all the kiddies and their platinum blonde, rail thin, half-silicone mothers were at home, handing them off to various nannies and au pairs.

Deciding I still hadn't burned off enough of my frustration, I set off in the opposite direction despite my mind's desire to strip off the Nikes and camp out on the sand until Tyler was done surfing for the day. I turned my iPod up and forced myself to concentrate on my pacing until my mind finally let go of the last few traces of anger. The salty air felt wonderful in my lungs and my muscles burned in a perfectly satisfying kind of way as I reached the end of the municipal beach and continued on past the yacht club. I studiously ignored the two highrises just beyond the cabana-style clubhouse, choosing instead to turn around and make my way through the center of town.

About half an hour later, after I'd pounded my way though most of downtown and its nearest residential streets, my feet carried back towards the beach instead of past the high school on the most direct route home. I lied to myself, saying it was all for the sake of an extra half mile of exercise, when I knew it was really just to check if Tyler was still there. Slowing to a quick walk, I scanned the now nearly vacant beach, swinging my arms to restore the circulation to my fingers as my heart rate came back down to normal. Amidst the throngs of tired, crabby kids being packed into luxury SUVs, there was not a surfer to be seen.

"Looking for me, princess?"

The voice carried over from behind a huge silver SUV that backed out to reveal a black Jetta with a surfboard rack on the roof. My heartbeat spiked as Tyler's grin lit up his tanned face, his wetsuit rolled halfway down his torso as he strapped the surfboard to his roof. He was still glistening with salt water and I had to keep from running my eyes over him as I approached.

"Were you hoping I was?" I teased, leaning against his car as he tied the last strap.

"Oh you know it," Tyler replied with a smile, hopping down and opening the back door, "You look really cute when you run, did you know that?" he said. I blushed, well aware that whenever I run, I look nowhere near as good as the attractively sweaty girls in Gatorade commercials.