Date: Thu, 19 Jan 2017 13:10:10 +1000
From: Storyteller Guy <newstories996@gmail.com>
Subject: Prodigy and Prejudice - Chapter 2

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PRODIGY AND PREJUDICE

Chapter 2

Thwack. Down the middle. Ace. First pump. Smug smile.

If the Townsville Tennis Club could have afforded a speed gun, the serve
would have recorded very near 200km/h. The North Queensland Age
Championships wasn't really the setting for a speed gun, anyway.

"Game, Warburton. Warburton leads five games to love."

Ray was astonished. He'd never thought the muscular 17-year-old he was
watching was ever much good. And yet, here he was, absolutely trouncing his
son in the unrelenting Townsville afternoon heat. It was yet another strong
service game exhibiting the burly teenager's absolutely massive serve. He
sat down at his designated bench five games up in just fifteen minutes,
with only one game standing between he and first set. Ray scribbled a few
notes down on his notepad, including some plans that Nick might put in
place to counter such a beastly serve, and watched the boys cool off at the
change of ends break.

Dylan Warburton didn't care that much for tennis; at least outwardly,
anyway. He told everyone he just played so he could work out in the club
gym and get buff, for it was the rugby season that he really cared
about. At 6'1", with his `primo rig', as he called it, he was an imposing
figure. Powerful thighs, large biceps, and pecs with the surface area of
dinner plates adorned his body. He also had the attitude to match. He
walked around with his chest out, caring not for anyone he may bump
into. His arrogance served him well on the tennis court, it seemed, as his
opponent was incapable of providing any meaningful resistance despite the
obvious talent the boy possessed.

It didn't matter that Dylan was absolutely no scholar. He had to repeat
grade one because he was such a dunce, and was therefore already a year
older than his peers. His father, the senior Member of Parliament for the
area, ironically happened to be education minister and a "good friend of
the Prime Minister". Whilst there were many words that could aptly describe
Dylan, many of which are unprintable, `untouchable' would certainly be
one. He knew it, his classmates knew it, his teachers knew it; hell, the
whole city knew it.

Nick dragged his heels out onto the court for yet another service game. His
first two had been complete disasters – three double faults, weak second
serves, and a complete domination from Dylan's forehand. He didn't know how
he was going to get out of the rut.

"C'mon, Nick! Let's go!" Ray yelled from the crowd, clapping with
encouragement.

Nick's little sister and his spitting image, ten-year-old Francesca, echoed
her father. "Go, Nicky!"

It just didn't help; Nick just felt completely flat. Maybe it was spending
the morning qualifying for the final, or maybe he'd just woken up on a bad
day. He began by hitting a sliding serve out wide, which was smashed back
for a winner by Dylan. Nick then tried to belt one down the T – which
was smashed back at him, and the ball ricocheted off Nick's frame and out
of the court as he didn't have time to react. Maybe a body serve would
work, he thought, and that came back at him weakly; but he overcooked the
forehand wide trying to match Dylan's power and smash the ball through to
China. Demoralised and three set points down, he couldn't find his spots on
his serve and weakly double faulted to gift the set to Dylan. The small
crowd sighed.

"Game and set, Warburton. Warburton leads one set to love. Coaches, you
have ninety seconds."

Ray jumped from his fading plastic bucket seat in the small grandstand and
marched onto the court to impart something, anything, to his young son to
get him back on track. Poor Nick looked completely dejected, and laid his
racquet next to his bag in defeat. He sighed, took a sip of water from his
bottle, and eyeballed his father as he approached. Ray crouched down to
meet his son's gaze.

"You alright, Nicky?" Ray asked "You look bloody lost."

Nick's head dropped. "I can't beat him, Dad. He's so much bigger than me."

"You can beat him, and you will," Ray said sternly. "If you think like
that, you're dead before you're even out there. Get your head in the game!"

"But he hits it too hard."

"You've got the best slice at this club, and you know it. You need to try
and use it more."

"He bounces it up too high, he's so much taller than me."

"You can outrun him. He can hardly move. You'll run rings `round him. You
haven't hit the corners and tried to get him moving. He's hardly breaking a
sweat!"

"He's too good, Dad." Nick looked at the ground. "I ... I can't beat him."

Ray sighed, and raised his voice slightly, yet purposefully, at Nick. "Look
me in the eye."

Nick reluctantly raised his head as Ray continued. Ray's eyes burned like
lasers into the back of Nick's head.

"I have never told you this, Nick, but you are easily the best junior
tennis player I have ever seen. And I'm not just saying that, mate. I
absolutely believe it. Dylan? He's just a big slugger. Yeah, he can hit a
ball, but you – you can think. You can run. And bloody hell, Nick, you
can play. You can beat him, alright. But you're only going to beat him if
you *believe* you can beat him. *I* believe you can beat him, mate. I
really, really do."

Nick's mouth fell open as he looked at his father. Ray had never gushed
like that to his son. It was always `work harder', `c'mon, you've got to
want it', or `stop slacking off'. It was certainly never `you're the best,
Nick'. He had no idea how to respond. He wasn't used to being told he was
the best at anything by anybody, let alone his father.

Ray seized the moment. Judging from Nick's reaction, he thought he'd found
something inside Nick he hadn't found before.

"Mate, tell me you believe you can win."

"I-" Nick stopped, distracted, as he noticed some movement at the front of
the grandstand. He noticed a boy, his age or thereabouts. He thought he
recognised the sandy brown hair, and when the boy sat down next to Barry,
Nick and the boy made eye contact to confirm who it was. Nick was
shocked. Ryan had come – on a hot Saturday afternoon – to sit in the
sun and watch him play tennis. Again? This couldn't be pure coincidence,
Nick thought.

"Thirty seconds," came the call from the umpire.

Ray pressed his son for an answer. "Nick? Go on, tell me."

Ryan smiled and held Nick's gaze, before nodding his head up in that
now-familiar `wassup' motion. The effect on Nick effect was
infectious. Nick smiled back at Ryan, and nodded his head in return. He
immediately began to tingle in a way he had never felt before. This `cool
kid' had probably ditched his mates to come to watch him play. His friends
were probably surfing, or skating, or cycling, or whatever. But Ryan was
here. Was he here for Nick, or did his Dad make him come? `Who cares,' Nick
thought, `he's here'. Inexplicably, and immediately, Nick felt ready to
take on the world.

"Yeah, Dad. I can beat `im."

Ray beamed; he'd got through. "That's my boy!"

In the ten seconds they had left, Ray reminded Nick to hit his spots, use
his slice, get Dylan moving, and use his fast feet to pounce on anything
short.

"Time."

Ray bounded back up the stairs to his position in the grandstand next to
his daughter. He sat back down with a smile on his face, and again yelled
encouragement to his young charge. It was on. Ray sensed it; something had
flicked inside of Nick. It was bloody well on.

"What'd you say, Dad? Is Nicky gonna win now?" The young girl asked
hopefully.

"Just you watch, Franny," Ray said, putting an arm around his daughter, "I
think you're about to see something special."

Even when lost, every point Nick played in the second set seemed to take
him closer to his goal of victory. He started slicing Dylan's huge serve,
he started making Dylan run, and he started hitting his spots on his own
serve. It was topsy-turvy tennis, and it wasn't until Dylan was serving at
5-6 that Nick's extra effort finally paid off. Nick took the set with a
service break, belting a breathtaking running forehand down the line having
been wildly out of position. Dylan, visibly sweating and panting, assumed
his shot would be a winner due to Nick's position. Instead, the look on
Dylan's face when he saw the ball fizz down the line and plop into the
corner was a sight to behold. The ignominy of it! The young upstart dared
to challenge him, King Dylan!

Ray and Fran were up off their feet and cheering. The rest of the 20-person
crowd responded with an "ohhhh!" and even Ryan joined in the fun. It was
all topped off with one of Nick's catch cry uttered as he screeched to a
halt – adopted from his favourite player – "c'mon!!"

If watching Nick was a drug, Ryan was as high as a kite. The swashbuckling
serve, the fluid forehand, and Nick's incredible athleticism kept Ryan
watching like a hawk. It wasn't doing anything to help his growing
infatuation with Nick, either. `Was there anything he can't do?' Ryan
thought, eyeing Nick as he went to the end of set break with a spring in
his step. Ryan nearly let out an audible gasp when, just prior to sitting
down, Nick wiped his face with bottom of his shirt. Ryan looked closely at
Nick's glistening chest – and the waistband of his underpants – very
closely.

"Game and set, Rabuzzo. One set all. Coaches, you have ninety seconds."

Ray didn't really need to say anything, but he just wanted to reinforce his
earlier message. He walked down to Nick, and with a smile, patted him on
the back and gave him a few pointers about how to approach the final set.

"Thirty seconds."

Ray smiled at Nick, as Nick took a final sip from his water bottle.

"Now do you see why I believe in you, mate?"

Nick smiled back. "Maybe I can still beat `im."

"You bet, mate. You bloody bet. Now go and finish this prick off, will
you?" Ray finished with a wink.

Nick grinned back. "For you and Fran, Dad. And Mum, too."

From the first point in the final set, it was obvious Nick had done the
damage he needed to in the second set. Dylan was cooked; he knew it, the
crowd knew it, and Nick knew it. After Dylan somehow held serve twice, the
dam wall was finally breached when Nick toyed with his broken opponent by
sending him from corner to corner and back again in four consecutive
points. Nick took three consecutive games, including two breaks. All that
was left was for Nick to serve for the title.

It didn't matter that Nick was up two service breaks, and it didn't matter
that Dylan was absolutely stuffed. Nick still tightened up. Weak first
serve, pounded by Dylan for a winner. A timid double fault followed.

"Love-30."

Nick looked up at the grandstand and saw who was still there. His father
and Fran; they were always there. They were clapping and egging him
on. Some other people he didn't recognise, probably Dylan's crew, were all
looking rather forlorn. But Ryan was still there. He wasn't yawning or
playing on his phone, he was actually watching the match. Again, he caught
Nick's eye. He smiled and clapped a few times. Nick smiled back and had to
look at the ground or he thought he'd blush. What the hell was it with this
boy?

The little burst of confidence was all Nick needed. Nick found his groove
on his serve again, pounded a few crisp groundstrokes and the finally, his
and his father's well-thought tactics brought Nick three consecutive points
and a match point.

There was always going to only be one way to finish. Nick smashed a flat
ace right down the T to seal the win. The crowd applauded politely,
excepting of course Ray and Fran, who got up and roared.

"Game, set, and match, Rabuzzo."

Nick raised his arms in triumph and yelled "yes!!" before looking up to the
heavens.

"I did it, Mum!" he said, almost to himself. "I won!"

Catching himself in his moment, he ran into the net to thank his opponent
with a massive smile on his face.

"Thanks for the game," Nick said sincerely, as he extended his hand and
looked up at his burly opponent. "That was really hard."

Dylan looked down on him with disdain. "Fuck you, little shit. That trophy
was mine." A weak, brief handshake was all the older boy offered, as well
as a glare with menace that Nick would not soon forget.

Nick frowned, felling wholly disappointed. He thought he'd just played and
beaten a difficult opponent and would get some respect. What was this kid's
problem?

Confused, he let Dylan shake the umpire's hand before him, as
customary. Some congratulatory words from the umpire propped Nick up,
before he eyed his father in the crowd. He smiled, pointing at his father,
and waved to his sister who was beaming and jumping up and down like she
was about to have a seizure.

The umpire spoke up once the boys had sat down and packed up their
bags. "Ladies and gentlemen, the presentation will now take place on
court. Please welcome Townsville Tennis Club president Barry Masters."

Barry, Nick and Dylan all walked out into the middle of the court. As soon
as he was handed a microphone, Barry immediately began gushing about the
two of them. Nick was so embarrassed he just zoned out. It wasn't until he
heard his name finally called, and the applause of the crowd, that he
snapped out of his trance.

Nick happily took the trophy – and gift voucher – presented to him by
Barry. He launched it high in the air with a huge grin, as a professional
would; the fact that it was a minor local tennis tournament drew a laugh
from the small crowd. Not that Nick cared, of course. He'd just beaten a
boy five years older, and to boot, he'd won the trophy he'd been thinking
about all summer. He wore a beaming smile that would take some time to
recede.

Nick's inbuilt humility quickly made him aware of the attention on him and
he slinked back from the front of the presentation area, out of the
spotlight. He scanned the crowd for his father, who was characteristically
on the side, not wanting to be part of Nick's moment. Nick smiled warmly at
his father when he located him.

In that moment, Ray felt the bond he and his son had. It was one of
respect, and hard work, but in the end he saw himself as a fair parent. He
didn't chastise the defeats, the same as he didn't glorify the
victories. He rewarded the effort, and punished only when it wasn't
provided. Still, it was the proudest moment of Ray's life that in Nick's
greatest yet victory, he sought out his father. Ray pointed at his son and
mouthed 'you deserve it, mate'. He hugged Fran tightly with his right arm,
still watching Nick. Ray smiled widely and felt a warmth inside him, in
recognition of just how lucky the three of them were.

Barry resumed his role as master of ceremonies and began to thank the
organisers and local sponsors. Nick looked in awe at the trophy while Barry
rabbited on. He couldn't really have cared less what was being said, he was
gawking at the nameplate where his name and age - Nicola Rabuzzo, 12 years
289 days - would later be etched. His name would be on the trophy forever;
what a treat!

A round of applause, the sound of the crowd talking again and a hand on
Nick's shoulder broke his reverie as the presentation finished and life
went back to normal.

"Come and grab a Gatorade on me, son," Barry remarked with a smile. "Your
father and I might have something stronger."

Nick again felt a pair of eyes on him. He looked around, and saw Ryan
walking through the crowd towards his father with an expressionless
face. When Nick locked eyes with Ryan, Nick immediately looked down,
averting his gaze, and seemed to blush as Ryan opened his face into a wide
smile.

Barry immediately piped up when he spotted his son. "Ah, Ryan, old mate!
There you are! C'mere, we're going to grab a drink and have a yarn."

As the adults and Fran went on ahead to the club office, Nick and Ryan
followed behind. After a moment of silence between the boys, Ryan
immediately felt that he was required to be the one to advance the
conversation.

"So, uh ... hey," Ryan offered timidly, looking at Nick as they walked.

"Hey," Nick offered equally shyly.

"Been a while, huh," Ryan mused with a little nose laugh.

Nick smiled awkwardly. "Yeah ... guess we're not pee wees anymore."

Ryan smiled. "Guess not."

If there was one thing Nick hated, it was making inane conversation. He was
just inescapably shy. His usual defence mechanism was giving one word
answers and looking at the floor. In a one-on-one situation, though, that
was never going to cut it. To combat this situation and at least give an
outward impression of being a 'normal' boy, he thought maybe stating the
obvious would help pass the time.

"I, uh ... so you saw the final today?" Nick asked, almost chastising
himself at the inanity of the question. `Of course Ryan had bloody seen it,
he was there!'

"Yeah," Ryan said with a little smile appearing in the corner of his
mouth. He almost got himself flustered as he caught himself just before
gushing about his infatuation with Nick. Composing himself, Ryan managed,
"I mean, Dad said I should come, so ... you played real well."

Nick looked down with a little smile, embarrassed by the compliment, and a
little miffed he hadn't said he'd come of his own accord.

"Thanks."

There was a slight awkward silence as neither boy really knew where to go
with the conversation.

"Dad says you're gonna be in my class at Prindiville," Ryan offered,
thinking quickly for conversation topics.

"Yeah," Nick said. "Is it good?"

"Dunno, I'm only starting there myself. But my Dad went there, so I guess
it must be alright."

Nick nodded blankly. "Cool."

Ryan was searching for more to say. The awkwardness and shyness emanating
from Nick was palpable; still, Ryan didn't want to blow his first real
interaction with him in years. It was tough going, Ryan admitted to
himself, because Nick was hardly offering much up to help him. Barry, Ray
and Fran were having a conversation outside the office, so it seemed the
boys would have continue to do so as well.

At that moment, the most obvious suggestion popped into Ryan's mind. The
boys could hang out together! 'You idiot, Ryan, why didn't you think or
that earlier!?' he thought. Ryan quickly put the idea to Nick.

"Hey, um ... so, me and my friends are going surfing tomorrow, 'cause it's
the last day before school starts. Do you, um ... maybe wanna come along?"

Nick looked up wide-eyed as his heart skipped a beat. Hang out with people?
He hardly ever did that, and even when he did, it was mostly tennis
people. And they were just doing it because they were there. But this was
different. To Nick, it was like Ryan actually *wanted* to be friends with
Nick. That was something new to him; something he had no idea how to
respond to. So, of course, default mode kicked in. The timid,
self-deprecating Nick came out.

"But I've never surfed before," he blurted.

"First time for everything, I guess." Ryan said helpfully, and with a
smile.

"I don't even have a board."

"You can use my old one, it's in the garage."

There was a pause as Nick was caught off guard at Ryan having an answer for
each of his misgivings. Usually, people would just give up by now. But
instead, he pulled out the old ace of spades.

"I bet I'll be crap at it."

Ryan looked a little sad and defeated as he looked down at the
ground. "Well, you don't have to come if you don't wanna."

Nick gulped. He was already way past his comfort zone even entertaining the
idea. But there was this little twinkle in the back of his mind that made
him really want to hang out with Ryan. He just exuded this energy; it was
infectious. It wasn't like anything Nick felt before. On the court, Nick
had felt it; and now, standing two feet from Ryan, he felt it even
more. Nick didn't know where the vibe had come from and he couldn't explain
it. Maybe ... maybe just this once, he could trust someone. Maybe he could
just ... be friends with someone.

"No, I mean ..." Nick trailed off because he didn't know what he meant. He
didn't know how to say he'd like to, without blurting out something
ridiculous.

"So you'll come, then?" Ryan was oblivious to how hopeful he sounded,
immediately looking up from the floor and smiling at Nick. All that was
missing were the puppy eyes and paws set in the begging position.

"I guess I don't live that far from the beach," Nick offered, unable to
hide a small smile.

"I can come by your house on the way on my bike, then," Ryan said, his
smile opening up to a grin.

"Yeah," Nick said, allowing himself a fuller smile, "that'd be cool."

"What's your number?" Ryan asked, whipping out his iPhone ready to take
Nick's details.

Nick blushed. "Uh ... I haven't got a phone yet." He felt like such a
fool. Of course he didn't have a phone, his dad could barely afford the
computer they bought so Nick could do his homework this year.

Ryan just shrugged. "No matter," he said as he calmly put it back in his
pocket just as quickly as he'd taken it out, "I can just come by your place
at like, 8?"

'How the hell is he so smooth?' Nick thought to himself. 'Why didn't he
make fun of me just now? And how did he just think to set a time out of
thin air?'

"Sounds, er, great." Nick said, perhaps a little dismissively - although he
certainly didn't intend for it to come out like that. Ryan just smiled
warmly in return.

"Cool."

'OH MY GOD I DID IT!' Ryan thought to himself as Barry approached the
boys. 'I CANT BELIEVE I GET TO HANG OUT WITH NICK!' It was all he could do
to stop himself from beaming ear to ear.

Barry smiled at the boys' seemingly newfound friendship. "Well you two seem
to be getting along like a house on fire! C'mon fellas, let's get inside
and have a drink!"

"Ooh, are there any orange ones left?" Nick asked, forgetting his
conversation with Ryan and suddenly realising his violent thirst and need
for a chair.

Barry smiled as the five of them entered the cool enclave of the
office. "You're a bit bloody picky, aren't you, mate!"

---

The next morning, Nick bounded into the kitchen right on 7.59am. Ray
immediately looked up from his newspaper, surprised at why the youngster
was so raring to go.

"G'morning, champion," Ray said, "spider in your bed or something?"

Nick didn't quite know how to respond and looked at his father with a
puzzled expression and furrowed brow. "What?"

Ray smiled. "Just kidding, mate. You're usually not up until midday after a
tournament."

"I'm going to the beach with Ryan, remember," Nick said proudly. Just as he
said it, there was a knock at the door. "See ya, Dad!"

Ray stopped the excited boy at the door. "Wait, wait, wait ... hat? Towel?
Sunscreen? Wallet?"

Nick frowned. "I know, Dad, it's all in my backpack!"

Ray smiled, and deliberately condescendingly, raised his eyebrows. "And
where's that, then?"

Nick gasped as he'd realised he'd forgotten the one thing he had to
remember. Embarrassed, he ran to his room to grab his bag while Ray went to
open the door. He was greeted by a smiling Ryan and a flawless Townsville
summer's day.

"Ah, Ryan, how are you, mate?" Ray asked with a smile, as the patter of
Nick's fast footsteps behind Ray heralded his imminent arrival.

"Good thanks, Mr Rabuzzo, perfect day for surfing!" Ryan beamed back,
pointing at a spot in the front yard. "Can I leave my bike there?"

Ray agreed, before nodding at Nick, who had appeared beside his
father. "Old mate here was ready to go, but ended up forgetting
everything."

Ryan chuckled as Nick frowned at his father. "Daaad!"

Nick and Ryan met each other's gaze as they exchanged a smile. Ryan
immediately thought Nick looked far more relaxed than the last time they
spoke.

"Here," Ryan said passing a body board to Nick, "let's roll!"

Nick happily took the board, and imitating Ryan, tucked it under his arm as
the two boys started their walk to be beach.

"Be back for dinner!" Ray called out as he closed the door. There was
something about those two, Ray thought, as he went back to his coffee and
newspaper.

Whilst it was only about a kilometre from `Palazzo de Rabuzzo', as Ray
ironically called their tired bungalow, to the beach, it left ample time
for the boys to have to maintain a conversation. If you went on the
previous day's events, this might have been an extremely awkward walk. But
there was just something about being around Ryan that completely relaxed
Nick.  He felt like he'd met someone who was intuitively tuned to him,
someone that he could just talk to without fear of judgment. He'd never met
anyone like that outside his family before. Maybe he'd just never let
himself be relaxed enough in front of anyone before.

Ryan was like an excited schoolgirl. He was completely devoid of his usual
last-day-of-holidays depression, and was excited to be spending time
getting to know a boy who, until yesterday, was just the object of his
masturbatorial desires. Now, it seemed, Ryan's dick didn't get a thought as
he and Nick discussed the tennis, what movies they liked, what things they
liked to do, and the food they liked.

By the time they reached the beach, it had struck both boys just how
similar they were. Ryan was beginning to view Nick as not just a hot kid,
but a friend. Nick was wondering why the hell they hadn't become friends
earlier.

Nick and Ryan approached a group of four other boys who were already
waiting at Ryan's usual spot. They all greeted Ryan, and looked over at
Nick warily.

"This is Nick, he's starting with us tomorrow," Ryan said matter of factly
to the group. Nick looked around the boys and saw eight watchful eyes and
four expressionless faces looking him over, wondering what to make of
him. Needless to say, he felt very intimidated.

"Nick, that's Charlie, Xander, Ross and Jonno," Ryan continued, pointing to
each of the boys as he called their name.

Nick smiled nervously, and nodded once. "Nice to meet you all." The boys
didn't move.

Ryan then added with a smirk, "he fucked Dylan up in the age champs
yesterday."

The boys' faces immediately turned to amazement as they said, almost in
unison, "what!?"

Ryan started to laugh. "Yeah, it was fucking hilarious! At the end, he
couldn't even run! Then Nick smashed an ace, and it was all over."

Nick was shocked at Ryan's transition from club president's son to
swear-a-thon Townsville kid.

Meanwhile, Xander immediately broke into a huge smile as the other boys
looked at each other. "Oh man, is he gonna be pissed tomorrow! Fuck yeah,
Nick!"

Nick smiled embarrassingly as Xander lightly smacked him on the upper
arm. "Uh, thanks. You know him?"

Xander, a tall, blonde-haired boy continued. "Hah! Know `im? Oh, yeah, we
know `im. He's the school arsehole."

"The Prindiville Prick," piped Charlie, who almost looked like a clone of
Ryan with his brown hair, but with a bit more puppy fat on him. That caused
all the boys to lose it, as they broke in fits of laughter. Nick, not
really cottoning on to the joke particularly well, still had a chuckle of
his own.

When the laughter died down, Ross, a skinny ginger kid who appeared to have
completely lathered himself in sunscreen, decided it was time to head into
the water.

"C'mon, let's get swimming!"

He shucked his t-shirt, revealing a skinny, relatively undeveloped torso
covered in freckles, and ran off towards the waves. He was closely followed
by Jonno, whose mop of wavy dark brown hair almost went down to his neck.

As Xander and Charlie de-shirted and applied their sunscreen, Ryan followed
suit and took off his shirt, smartly revealing his short-sleeved rash
vest. It was well-worn, as Ryan was an experienced board rider. It also had
the effect of clinging to his svelte physique.

"Why'd you wear that thing again, you fag?" Xander snorted playfully at
Ryan, before pointing at Nick. "At least he's normal like us and isn't
afraid of a bit of sun."

Ryan looked in the direction of Xander's point and was greeted with his
first close-up look at Nick's body as Nick finished taking off his
t-shirt. Ryan was, to put it simply, lost for words. What he saw in front
of him was, to him, absolutely flawless. Nick was standing there, in board
shorts that went down to his knees, and underpants of which Ryan could just
see the top of the waistband, and nothing else. Ryan, attempting to relearn
how to use his throat muscles to make sounds come out of his mouth,
answered Xander – almost in a daze – as he took in Nick's athletic
body.

"Don't, ah ... don't want to get cancer," Ryan said, scrolling his eyes
down Nick's flat stomach and chiselled `V', before snapping himself out of
his trance and turning back to Xander. His trademark comeback skills
contemporaneously returned. "Calling me a fag after having Charlie rub
sunscreen all over your back, are ya?"

Xander snorted with a smirk. "Just get in the water, you wanker," he added,
as he and Charlie headed down to join Ross and Jonno.

Now that the other boys had left, Nick timidly asked Ryan the question he
hadn't been comfortable asking with the other boys around.

"Um, Ryan? What do I ..."

Ryan willed himself not to look at Nick's chest and eyeballed him with a
smile. "It's real easy. You get on the board, you wait for a wave, and then
you pounce."

Nick sighed. "But ... I've never done this before."

Ryan put his hand on Nick's shoulder supportively. Despite the gesture
being in no way sexually motivated, the effect on both boys of the
skin-on-skin contact was incredible. A bolt of electricity shot through
Nick's body, to every extremity fanning out from Ryan's hand. He felt that
tingling feeling he felt yesterday. Ryan thought his hand had become
covered in gold. Nick's shoulder was soft, yet somehow bony, but also
muscular; his skin was firm, yet forgiving. It was magic. Even though it
was only a split second, neither boy had missed out from the extremely
brief interaction.

"Just look down there, would ya?" Ryan said with a smile.

Jonno, who had just got onto a wave, suddenly went wide-eyed as it
unexpectedly broke on top of him. "Oh, shiiiiiit!" came his cry, as he
completely bought it down the tall, curling, wave. He tumbled off his board
and involuntarily rode the white water into shore in an ungainly tangle of
arms, legs, arm rope, and board. When he finally surfaced, he hoicked up
his boardies, grabbed his body board, and charged back out past the
breakers. The other boys paid Jonno no attention, nor did they make any fun
of him, as they all eagerly awaited their own waves on their own body
boards.

"See? I think you'll be just fine."

Nick smiled. "Maybe I can get the hang of this after all," he added,
looking at Ryan, as the other boy casually removed his hand from Nick's
shoulder.

"Last one in's a motherfucker!" yelled Ryan, as he shot down to the ocean
at full pace. Nick grinned, and sprinted after his new friend.

Was it the end of the holidays, or the beginning of something entirely
different?