Chapter Text
The sun shined bright on the clear waters. The sound of the waves crashing was Karl’s favorite sound in the world. Being in the middle of the waves was his favorite feeling in the world.
Karl laid flat on his waxy neon colored board, paddling his way through the surf. When he caught a glimpse of a wall of water from behind him, he got a giddy feeling in his chest.
The wave began to pick up the edge of his board, and Karl pulled himself up into a standing position slowly, knees bent to help his balance.
He rode out the wave a big smile plastered on his face, twisting his board with his feet to in an attempt hold it out longer. It fails, and Karl got sent tumbling backwards into the water with a half laugh, half scream.
He popped his head up above the water, grabbing onto his board and hoisting himself back up to sit on the back end.
“You okay?” A voice from the shore called out.
Karl wiped the wet hair from his face and laughed, looking in the direction of the voice. It was his friend Tommy— a young kid who’s been totally dominating the ocean ever since his friend Toby brought him around a couple months back.
“All good!” Karl called back to him, raising both hands with thumbs up.
“We gotta start gettin’ inside!” Tommy shouted, “They’ll be here any minute!”
Karl frowned to himself.
“I'll be there in a minute!”
He laid back down on his stomach and began paddling back to shore. When the sea floor was close enough, he stood, picking up his board under his arm.
Tommy was already inside with everyone else, so Karl took a moment to squeeze out his purple swim trunks while he found a spot to rest his board. As soon as he finished, he walked into the restaurant’s open doors.
The place was called Offshore Grill , and it had been their hangout spot for god knows how long. They serve just about anything he and his friends would ask for— they were the best customers, after all.
Just because they were the best customers, doesn’t mean their lives were perfect, though.
Early in the spring, one of Karl’s buddies, Clay, brought in a friend. His name was George, and everyone knew it was going to become an issue.
George was a biker guy. He didn’t like the sand. He didn’t like the water, the heat. None of it. He was about as pale as he could get. So when Clay would leave him in the restaurant to surf with his friends, George would get upset.
He started inviting his own friends, and they soon were too many to fit at the single tables on the opposite side of the room. They migrated to Clay’s friend’s table— the largest one over in one of the corners by the door.
It royally pissed everyone off.
They’d argue for days, fighting for who it belonged to.
“We've been here for years!” Clay would yell.
“Yeah, and you all leave for most of the day! You don’t spend as much time here as we do!” George would shoot back.
It got real bad. Sometimes Karl and Clay would sit outside all night just to be there when it opened.
One day, the Grill’s owner approached them with a proposal.
“Neither of you seem to want to back down.” The guy said, “But you’re scaring away my customers.”
“Sorry…”
“I’m sorry.”
“Ah, ah— Let me finish. You guys are very competitive. How’s about a little… Friendly competition.”
They sat and waited for him to continue.
“Whoever gets here— after I open up—“ He shot a glance at Karl and Clay, who hid their faces, “and sits here first gets a point. End of August, I’ll count ‘em up and the winner gets the seat. Deal?”
“Deal.”
Now they got to the beach early and awaited the opening of the Offshore Grill.
Today was no different, and it was definitely a point for the surf team. They had all ordered before anyone else had even shown up.
A waitress came around dispersing trays of fries by the time Karl had taken the last open seat at the table. The smell of warm fried potatoes made Karl’s stomach rumble.
“I’m just saying, if they really wanted to win, they’d actually show up .” Tommy said through a mouthful of potatoes, earning a laugh from almost everyone at the table.
“How many days in a row now?” Clay asked, “Six? Seven?”
“Eight.” Sam answered, “You weren’t here last Wednesday.”
Clay hummed, “Whatever. There's no way we’re losing this game.”
“Maybe they’ve given up.” Toby said with a laugh.
“Would be nice.” Wilbur shrugged.
Karl just about finished his plate when a low rumbling caught his and everyone else’s attention. The sound of multiple motors turning over made them groan.
“You jinxed it, man.” Tommy rolled his eyes.
From the side door, Karl watched the bikers park and leave their bikes right in front of the sandbank. They walked around the corner, all heading into the front door. Defeatedly, they took their seats at the smaller round tables across the room.
Tommy laughed, sticking out his tongue in their direction. Soon after they sat, everyone went back to their food— it all tasted better knowing they’d won this battle.
Karl eyed the bikers as he idly mushed a pile of ketchup around in his dish with his last fry.
The first one was George. Everyone knew him— the infamous man who began this war. He had a black shirt and long jeans, along with a pair of scuffed up boots. He looked like he was watching them, but Karl knew he was just looking to see if Clay was paying attention to them.
Next to him sat Luke. His blond hair was a little messed up from his helmet. Karl doesn’t think he’s cut it since he started coming around.
The table next to theirs had Bad and Zak, the inseparable duo. Bad was one of them at one point. That is, until Zak came along and swooped him off his feet. Now, all of a sudden he’s got dark clothes and spends all his time with their rivals.
A little off to the side sat Alex, one of the oldest members of their crew that showed up around the same time as Karl. Sitting with him was… Someone Karl didn’t recognize.
Karl examined the guy closely. He had on a red shirt that fit him well and a worn out leather jacket. He had a white headband tied around his head, and his long, dark hair was held up with a loose ponytail.
He was incredibly easy on the eyes.
Tommy cleared his throat, giving Karl a kick under the table that left sand on his shin.
“You’re ogling.” He whispered to Karl, and Karl’s face went pink.
“Am not.” Karl defended, “I was just… Scoping out the competition. They’ve got a new guy.”
Tommy glanced over, “He doesn’t look like he’s gonna be a problem. I mean, really. A leather jacket ? He’s gonna get a heat stroke and stop showing in less than a week, I guarantee you.”
Karl chuckled, but he couldn’t help but notice Alex whispering to the new guy. They both turned to look at him, and Karl quickly turned away.
“Don’t look now.” Sam announced to their table, “But I think the new kid on the block is headed over here.”
Karl and Tommy exchanged glances, and Tommy made a face of amusement.
The guy walked over slowly with his hands in his pockets and a smug look on his face. He reached the table and leaned in, mock bowing.
“Gentlemen.” He said, and his voice was like honey.
He then turned to face Karl, dropping a napkin in front of him on the table. Karl stared at it for a second— it was a phone number scribbled in blue ink. There was a little heart beside it with a name.
Nick .
“Um… What’s this supposed to be?” Karl asked, feeling the others watching with intense focus.
“Just in case you like what you see.” The guy— Nick teased. Alex giggled from his table.
Karl hoped he wasn’t blushing. He took a quick look towards Clay, who was glaring at Nick.
“Y-yeah. As if.” Karl brushed him off, waving his hand in a dismissive manner.
Nick gave a soft frown, and Karl almost thought it could be genuine. Until he heard Luke cheer him on quietly.
Karl mustered up all the courage he could, thinking fast, “I’m not interested, but thanks, sweetheart. Real ego boost, you know?”
Tommy laughed, and held his hand up for a high five that Karl met him in with a challenging smile towards Nick.
“Whatever,” Nick clicked his tongue on his teeth, “Worth a shot, baby.”
They watched Nick saunter back to Alex, who looked like he was holding back his own laughs. Karl felt a twinge of guilt in his chest, and his friends encouraging words weren’t helping.
“ Nice , Karl.” Sam complimented with a chuckle.
“You showed him!” Toby chimed in.
“You killed him, dude!” Tommy laughed loudly.
Karl laughed along, staring at the napkin. He felt Clay watching him, and tried to find somewhere else to look. He took the weak paper in his hand and crumpled it up in a ball, tossing it i. his ketchup covered plate.
Right after committing the digits to his memory.
The heat of the bright summer day was finally drifting into a breezy, blinding sunset. The surfers had gone back to the ocean, and Nick could see them from their bikes. They glided around in the water with such ease.
Nick was one of the last of his friends to leave. He sat on an outdoor bench with Luke, watching the waves crash, sending foamy water across the sand.
George was right— It was really nice here. The food was great, it was nice and warm, and there was even an ice cream truck that drove past at least twice a day. He could get used to this.
Maybe he should ditch the jacket, though.
“I was rooting for you.” Luke said.
“What?” Nick asked, taking a break from the ice cream bar he was gnawing on.
“With Karl.” Luke continued, “The dude from earlier.”
Nick watched Luke as he stood up, picking up his helmet from the bench.
“Unless you were just doing that for the competition stuff. Then it was kinda shitty, honestly.”
Nick sighed, admitting, “It wasn’t for the dumb table thing.”
Luke hummed as he walked towards his bike to start it up.
“Then I’m sorry.” He said before pulling the helmet over his head, “They all kinda hate us.”
“Don’t worry about it. Not your fault.”
Luke gave him a small wave before driving off, leaving Nick alone on the bench.
Nick let the breeze cool him down for a few long minutes, nearly forgetting about his ice cream until it began dripping down his hand.
When the dessert was reduced to a chocolate stained stick and the sun was finally hidden behind the horizon, Nick decided it to be time to head out. He packed his garbage into the can next to the restaurant before grabbing his keys and helmet.
There was a small buzz from his pocket.
He pulled his phone out, resting his helmet in his lap.
Unknown: Is this Nick?
Unknown: This is Karl