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It was hot as balls.
The sun beat down on Billy’s back as he rolled down the street, the air thick with sea salt and sweat.
If he got one more tourist telling him ’it’s not the heat, it’s the humidity!’ he was going to break his skateboard over their head.
He was going to be late, Max was going to bitch about her dinner if he didn’t hurry. He pushed against the curb to go a little faster, wind whipping his curls against his cheeks.
He was going to make it in time, the lights were on his side. He just had to hustle.
A whoosh of air and the whiny tones of Duran Duran were his only warning before a fucking BMW convertible whizzed by from behind. The hair and sunglasses driving the damn thing barely gave Billy a glance as he was knocked to the sidewalk with an angry shout.
He flipped the asshole off for good measure before checking his skinned elbow with a wince. Well, at least his board was okay. He couldn’t afford a new one right now.
He was definitely going to be late, too.
Fucking tourists.
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Bookmark Notes:
Rival surf shops.
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