The Beach

Chapter 1 - Something to Remember

“We are absolutely crazy.”

As I take in my surroundings, I can’t help but agree with what Zack is saying. It’s a Sunday afternoon in Ocean City, and, well…

Seniors. Seniors everywhere.

It’ll be a hell of a lot worse once the sun starts going down, but even now, I can tell that this place is going to be mobbed with crazy new graduate students, Zack and I being two of them.

"Ocean City is one of the top places for Senior Week," he continues as he finds an empty space in the Days Inn parking lot. "Hell, there are even special events for it. What are we thinking, Jack?”

Well, at least he’s self-aware.

"We’re thinking that we’re going to celebrate and have a good time," I tell him. "It’s Senior Week, man. You know what that means?"

"What?"

"Seniors. More specifically, hot seniors."

He shakes his head in amusement and hops out of the car. “Oh, no.”

Zack is my best friend. Because we’ve just graduated high school and it’s the beginning of June, he and I have decided to take a two-man trip to one of the most dangerous locations for Senior Week: Ocean City, Maryland. (Cue the dramatic background music.)

"If something bad happens while we’re here," Zack says as we grab our things and head inside the hotel, "it’s your fault." He says this because, yes, the trip was mainly my idea.

"Bullshit," I say. "You didn’t have to come."

"Yeah, but you would’ve bugged me until I did," he points out.

I shrug. Unfortunately, he’s right. It seems that when I get a plan into my head, I do whatever it takes to make it happen. I don’t think that’s a bad thing, though.

We get checked into our room on the fourth floor, which has two double beds, a flat-screen TV, a balcony, and an ocean view. Zack says that we should probably start unpacking our things, but just the sight of the beach gives me other ideas.

I open the door and step out onto the balcony, letting the nice breeze blow around me. “How about we go down there?” I call back into the room, pointing at the shore. “We can unpack later.”

Zack follows me out, shrugging. “Seems pretty nice out,” he says, knowing that no matter what his answer might be, I’ll probably convince him anyways. “But we’ve gotta get the sunscreen out.”

I roll my eyes. “Sunscreen is a bitch.”

"Well, sunburn is an even bigger bitch," Zack replies smoothly, smirking a little. "Trust me, you do not want to endure the same pain I endured.” He’s talking about the fact that two years ago, he got sun poisoning. I’ll admit—it did not look fun.

Obviously, Zack is the logic in our duo.

So we head back inside and grab the sunscreen, along with towels, a volleyball, and bodyboards (we don’t have surfboards, though—we’re not that good). Then we put on our swimsuits and head down to the boardwalk and the beach.

The sand is, surprisingly, not hot enough to give the bottoms of my feet third degree burns. The weather is perfect, and there’s a salty tang in the air. I haven’t been to the ocean in a long time (I’ve never even been to Ocean City before). I needed this.

We find a spot and throw our things down. Zack rips his shirt off—literally—and then tosses the remains to the side, exposing his chest.

"You’re too buff for your own good," I tell him, before proceeding to try it myself. It doesn’t work, and I end up throwing my shirt to the ground in frustration. "Fuck you." Zack just laughs, his serious demeanor slipping away.

After we put the sunscreen on, he grins at me and says, “Race you to the water.”

He starts running before he even finishes his sentence, and I take off after him a split second later. He’s fast, though, and before I know it, he’s diving headfirst into the ocean. When he pops his head back up, he proclaims, “I win!”

I skid to a stop right where the water suddenly gets deeper. It’s like there’s a bit of a trench, and on the other side of it, the shallowness returns. As I look down the coast, though, I see that it isn’t like this the entire way; a bit farther to my left, the distance gets narrower and narrower, so I could just walk around the trench entirely.

"If you don’t get in, I’m gonna grab you and dunk you," Zack says.

I roll my eyes. “No way, you fucker.” Then I jump in before he can live up to his promise.

—

After maybe half an hour of riding waves with our bodyboards and just fucking around in general, Zack says, “Hey, do you want to play some volleyball?”

I glance around. We’re standing near the edge of the ocean, our backs turned to it. “Actually, I don’t really see any nets anywhere.”

He shakes his head. “No, I’ve been here before. I know they’re here. I think there’s a big cluster of them somewhere farther down.” He points to the left.

"Okay, then let’s go find ‘em."

We decide to carry our things with us, on the off chance that someone decides to steal them. As we make our way down the beach, I start to take note of all the other seniors. I actually recognize a few from our school, like Jenna McDougall and Pete Wentz—it’s kind of weird seeing them while I’m on vacation. I can’t help but check out a lot of the ones I don’t know, because—like I told Zack earlier that they would be—they’re hot.

Zack doesn’t know about this, but I’m actually looking for a little something over the course of Senior Week. I don’t know what—well, more like who—the something is going to be just yet, but I’m determined to find them.

After what feels like forever, Zack points up ahead, where I see a bunch of volleyball nets. “There!”

We start walking faster, but when we get there, I think both of us realize the problem at the same time: All the nets are taken.

"Well, there’s only two of us," Zack says. "So we could maybe join someone else’s game…"

Most of the nets are pretty full, but then I notice one near the edge of the cluster, where two guys are casually playing one-on-one. I nod at it. “Over there, maybe?”

Zack shrugs. “We could see.” He starts to walk over, and I follow him.

"Hey!" I call, causing one of the guys to jump and turn to me, distracted. Right at his moment of weakness, the volleyball whacks him in the head, and the other guy laughs.

The first guy turns to him. “Fuck you, Rian!”

I can’t help but laugh, too, as Zack and I make our way over. “Uh, I’m Jack,” I say, waving. “And this is Zack. Mind if we join you?”

"No, I don’t mind," says Whacked-By-a-Volleyball Guy. He gestures to the other guy, Rian, who is still laughing. "Ten bucks says you’re both nicer than this asshole. I’m Alex, by the way." He raises his voice. "Rian, are you listening? These guys are joining us."

Rian nods and gives us a thumbs-up. “Fantastic. Who’s on what side? I refuse to work with you.”

Alex flips him off. “Fine, then.” He turns to Zack and I. “Take your pick. Me or the asshole.”

“You’re the asshole!” Rian says.

"Reminds me of us," Zack says to me. He nods at Rian. "I’ll take the asshole. I’m used to them."

I snort as he drops his stuff and goes over to Rian. “Thanks, Hasselhoff,” I call after him, dropping my own things.

Alex laughs. “Good one. Hey, Rian! The team that loses has to pay for pizza!”

"You’re on!"

Alex picks up the volleyball from where it landed on the ground next to him. “Okay. Now let’s play with some balls!”

With that, we start an intense two-on-two game that mainly consists of insulting the other team and beating any sort of volleyball rules with a prison shank. As I watch Alex, I can’t help but notice a few things about him, like his confident stride or the way his t-shirt outlines his profile. Like many other people here, he’s pretty damn attractive.

"Does anyone know when volleyball games typically end?" he asks after a while. "Because I’m pretty sure Jack and I kicked your asses."

"I was keeping score," Zack says, "and I’m pretty sure we kicked your asses.”

"Well, maybe I was keeping score, too," Alex says. "And according to my scores, we win.”

"Dude, you don’t even know how to play actual volleyball," Rian points out.

"That is completely irrelevant, Rian."

Now I really wish I’d been keeping score.

"If we won, I refuse to pay for the pizza."

Alex throws his hands up. “Fine, whatever. Actually, no, wait.”

He runs over to the side and grabs a surfboard I didn’t see before. Damn, he can surf?

"If I don’t catch this next wave," he says, "I’ll accept our supposed defeat. If I do, we get a rematch."

Rian folds his arms across his chest, smiling a little in amusement. “Fine. Only if you ride it the whole way in, though.”

Alex pumps his fist. “Yes!” Then he takes his shirt off and runs out to the water.

I can’t help but smile, too. I like this guy. He’s cool and funny, and now that he’s shirtless, I can confirm that he’s pretty sexy, too. Which means that I probably don’t stand a chance with him.

I can see him hopping onto his surfboard and paddling out into the water, looking (to me, at least) like a professional. After a few moments, a wave swells up, and then I see him on top of the surfboard, coasting along.

Yeah, I definitely don’t stand a chance with him.

He sticks his tongue out and yells, “Woo! Fuck yeah! Rematch, Rian fucking Dawson!”

As if to jinx him, the wave starts to crash, eventually cresting right over his head. For a moment he’s lost in the water, but after the wave passes, his head pops up with the surfboard only a few feet away. He grabs it and swims to shore, washing up in the sand.

"Rematch, Alex fucking Gaskarth?" Rian says. "I don’t think so."

Alex stands up. “Um, yes. Did you see that? That was called catching the wave.”

"Yeah, but did you ride it the whole way in? Nope."

"Ha," I say automatically. "Ride it the whole way in.” I raise my eyebrows suggestively, and Zack shakes his head.

Alex laughs. “Get the food, Pizza Boy,” Rian says to him.

He flips Rian off and starts to walk back to us. He’s soaked now, and for what seems like the hundredth time today, I think, Damn.

"I’ll come with you if you want," I tell him, the words falling out of my mouth before I can think them through. "You know, to get the pizza."

"Really? Awesome." He gives me a warm smile. "Let’s go."

We head up to the boardwalk, to a pizza place not too far away. “So,” Alex says. “I’m assuming you and Zack are here for Senior Week, too?”

"Yep," I reply. "Zack and I are stealing some of this pizza, by the way. I am, at least."

He sticks his tongue out at me. “Asshole.”

"Dick," I say, smirking a little.

Alex looks at me with what seems like genuine interest. “Well, now I know whether you’d be a top or a bottom. Since you’re the asshole.”

"How do you know if I’m gay or not?"

"I don’t. But, theoretically, if you were, now I know you’d be a bottom."

I snort. “Does this mean that if you, theoretically, were gay, then you’d be on top?”

"Yes," he says, as if it’s the most casual thing in the world. "Theoretically."

As we get to the pizza place and order our food, it hits me: I think I’ve found my something.

So, right then and there, I make a promise to myself.

By the end of Senior Week, I will have Alex fucking Gaskarth falling in love with me.