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As the waves crashed relentlessly against the shore, Arakawa grinned in satisfaction. He couldn’t wait to completely upstage that bloody idiot Ootakemaru.
He flipped his bleached hair out of his eyes and tried to look coolly disinterested as Ootakemaru approached.
“Real scorcher today,” Ootakemaru remarked, emptying his Mt Franklin water bottle over his face with a crackle of plastic. He shook out his now drenched hair, and Arakawa would deny being entranced by the way water droplets cascaded down Ootakemaru’s shoulders. “Bloody climate change. Had to keep my thongs on; thought the sand was gonna burn my fuckin’ feet right off.”
“Heard it’s gonna be even worse this arvo.” Arakawa stuck out a hand, snapping himself out of his trace, and when Ootakemaru reluctantly shook it, Arakawa clapped him on the back. “You’re late as, mate – I nearly thought ya were gonna bail.”
Ootakemaru scowled. “Oi, fuck off, mate. Roads were chokkas today – everyone’s just hoonin’ around. Musta been those bloody kids on their school holidays.”
“Doesn’t help that ya ride a seniors’ mobility scooter,” Arakawa taunted, revelling in how Ootakemaru’s face scrunched up in annoyance.
Ootakemaru chucked the surfboard he had been awkwardly manoeuvring down the beach onto the sand. He held up a fist, shaking it in Arakawa’s face. “Don’t push it, mate,” he warned, taking another step closer. “And it’s not a fuckin’ oldies’ ride – it’s a real motor scooter, okay?”
With his outgrown dark hair, piercing eyes and slightly menacing tattoos, Ootakemaru would’ve been quite threatening if he wasn’t so much shorter than Arakawa.
Arakawa laughed. “I could run faster than that old piece o’ shit.”
“Yeah?” Ootakemaru moved closer again. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, and Arakawa could see the muscles finely defined on his chest. “Try me. I’ll fuckin’ obliterate ya – you’d be roadkill if I had my way.”
Arakawa tore his eyes away from Ootakemaru’s bare chest. Why the fuck am I getting distracted? he asked himself. “Well,” he blurted, caught off-guard, “even if I was roadkill, I’d still be the better surfer.”
He was an actual surfer. Ootakemaru was just some try-hard with a scooter and a pretty face. No, not pretty, Arakawa reminded himself sternly. Ootakemaru’s face was stupid and he wanted nothing more than to see that face get buried in the sand after a massive wipeout in the surf.
Ootakemaru opened his mouth to retort, but they were distracted by a screaming toddler running down the beach. Moments later, a kindergartener scrambled past. In her desperation to catch the younger child, she accidentally whacked Ootakemaru with the plastic shovel grasped in her hand.
“Oi, stop right there!” Ootakemaru demanded, wincing from the impact and rubbing his kneecap. “Little shits,” he muttered as the child pulled a face at him and ran off. “Wish I could just chuck ’em on the barbie and be done with it.”
“Bloody oath, mate,” Arakawa agreed, but he was more focused on trying to tie his hair back in a way that best showed off his jawline. He obviously couldn’t let Ootakemaru have a better jawline than him. “Fuckin’ ankle biters are best for bein’ shark bait if ya ask me.”
They pushed their boards into the ocean and Arakawa couldn’t help but smile as the cool water washed over his toes.
“If you just wanna take it easy and stay closer to shore, that’s fine,” Arakawa told Ootakemaru, adopting a tone that was as patronising as he could muster. “No judgement here, mate. Just me showin’ ya how it’s done.”
Ootakemaru splashed water into Arakawa’s face. “Oh, rack off. I know how to fuckin’ surf.”
“And how many times have you actually surfed?” Arakawa kept pushing Ootakemaru’s buttons. “Ya know that watching it on TV doesn’t count as knowin’ how to surf, right?”
“Think you’re funny, don’t ya?” Ootakemaru growled, refusing to back down as he followed Arakawa into the slightly deeper water. But his intimidation techniques clearly didn’t work, because the next moment, a wave crashed over his head and he was propelled back a few metres.
“Aw, you’re fuckin’ weak, mate.” Arakawa shook his head. “There’s a kids’ class over there if yaw anna get some more lessons before tryna challenge me.”
When Ootakemaru turned his head to look, Arakawa paddled away, leaving Ootakemaru stranded in the shallows, only metres from the little kids.
“Hey, mate, could ya make sure to stay over that way with your mate over there?” Their teacher pointed in Arakawa’s direction. “Don’t want any irresponsible beginners gettin’ in the way, yeah?”
Ootakemaru flipped him off and tried to ignore the judging gaze of ten six-year-olds as he struggled to mount his board.
Thirty minutes later, the kids were out deeper than he was, and Ootakemaru could finally be at peace in the shallow water by himself.
Arakawa could feel the sea breeze on his face as he spun his board around, purposely showing off his skills while Ootakemaru floundered around in the shallows.
“You look like a drowned rat,” he crowed, riding the wave into shore and dismounting next to Ootakemaru, who had been dumped by more waves than he could count.
“At least I don’t look like a beached whale,” Ootakemaru countered, swimming back out to sea, determined not to embarrass himself further.
Arakawa was just pulling his fist back to whack Ootakemaru when he felt a sudden pinch on his leg. “FUCK!” he yelled, hating how his voice shot up an octave in the pain. “What the fuck was that?”
Ootakemaru looked genuinely concerned. “What happened?”
“I think something bit me!” Arakawa fumed, rubbing the place on his leg. “OW! It got me again!”
He spun around, shaking his leg, pretty sure that whatever had bitten him was still attached this time. He kicked out, holding onto his board to stay afloat and was surprised to feel his foot connect with something a lot bigger than expected. “Who the fuck are you?” he snapped.
A man wearing a crab costume had accidentally pinched his leg with one of its pincers. “Sorry ’bout that, mate,” he apologised, refusing to meet Arakawa’s gaze. “I was just goin’ for a swim when I ran into ya. No hard feelings, yeah?”
Ootakemaru sniggered. “Why are ya wearin’ that dumb crab suit, mate? Ya look like a bloody galah.”
The man rolled his eyes. “Do ya even go to the beach, mate? I’m dressed as the mascot for our local fish and chips restaurant. Call me Claws.”
He tried to point proudly at the name badge on his chest, but realised that his pincer was still attached to the skin on Arakawa’s leg, and when he moved his arm, it tugged at Arakawa’s skin.
“SHIT!” Arakawa yelped as his skin tore as the pincer pulled away, leaving a cut on his leg.
Claws licked his lips nervously, backing away as quickly as he could while wearing the crab suit. “Y’know, if you come to our restaurant now, we can give you a discount.”
Arakawa glowered at him.
“Fifty percent if you don’t report us?” Claws asked, gingerly patting Arakawa on the shoulder.
Arakawa swatted his hand away.
To his surprise, Ootakemaru came to his rescue. “Ya really think we’d eat your fish and chips after you bit him on the leg?”
“I didn’t bite him,” Claws protested. “I pinched him. It’s totally different, okay?”
“Just fuck off, mate,” Ootakemaru commanded, and Claws guiltily swam away, but not before reaching in and giving Arakawa’s buttocks a tight squeeze.
Arakawa smacked Claws across the face. “Don’t touch my fucking arse!” he roared, and tried to reach out to grab Claws’ leg and pull him back, but the crab mascot had already fled to safety.
“We aren’t eating your food!” Ootakemaru yelled after him, cupping his hands around his mouth to project his voice. “Don’t wanna eat any shit that you’ve touched!”
“I got molested by a crab!” Arakawa raged, slapping his surfboard so hard that it shot out of the water. “Would ya fucking believe that? A bloody crab!”
Arakawa’s leg was bleeding, but he didn’t want Ootakemaru to notice. Unfortunately, Ootakemaru wasn’t blind, so he could see the water around Arakawa’s leg turning red.
“Oh shit, mate, you’re actually bleeding,” Ootakemaru pointed out, moving closer.
Arakawa swatted his hands away. “I’m fine,” he protested, accidentally slapping Ootakemaru in the face in his attempts to distance himself.
“Oi, what the fuck was that for?” Ootakemaru hissed, and punched Arakawa on the shoulder.
“Fuck off!” Arakawa cried, grabbing Ootakemaru’s shoulders and trying to push him underwater. They had moved into shallower water now, and he could stand properly.
But in the midst of their struggle, the adrenaline must’ve kicked in at some point, because Arakawa had no idea how they ended up with their mouths mashed together, sloppily making out as Arakawa’s leg continued bleeding.
Arakawa supposed they must’ve had a lot of pent-up sexual tension for all this time – at least, he knew he’d been eyeing off Ootakemaru, and he kind of hoped Ootakemaru had been doing the same.
I guess all this time, I wanted to impress him, he realised as he sucked on Ootakemaru’s lower lip. Their hands roved down each other’s chests, and Arakawa grunted as Ootakemaru pulled their bodies together.
Things were just starting to heat up when an announcement blared over the loudspeakers back at the beach.
“Attention to the two swimmers in the surfing zone,” crackled a lifeguard’s voice. “Make sure to get back on ya boards or make ya way between the red and yellow flags if ya wanna swim. Don’t wanna get in the way of other surfers.”
Arakawa knew the announcement was for them, but he was too preoccupied with trying to take Ootakemaru’s board shorts off without removing his hands from Ootakemaru’s body.
“And no nudity, thanks,” the lifeguard added, his voice unreadable. “Save that for the nudist beach further up north, alright?”