Page 16 of The Bro Pact
“You ready?” I ask, and before I can stop him, Kyle races up the dune. I laugh, chasing after him.
When we get to the top of the hill, we strap our helmets on and toss our rented sandboards to the ground, getting situated.
“Just like snowboarding,” I say before taking the first ride.
At first I’m sailing—the wind blowing and the sun shining—but then the tip of my board gets stuck, and I lurch forward, falling face-first into the sand. “Fuck!” I shout, spitting the grit out. “That’s disgusting.” I wipe my mouth on my shoulder, grabbing a water bottle from my small backpack to rinse it out.
After a few more falls that practically fill my underwear with sand, I’m done.
Fucking over it.
As I’m sitting on top of one of the smaller hills, a blond streak zooms down the biggest dune next to me, dressed in a white hoodie and almost blending into the environment.
Kyle is killing it, of course. He’s great at everything—every sport he tries, every subject in school, and usually every relationship he gets into.
Unlike me.
But that’s okay, because we’re out here to have a good time and forget about what’s-her-face, and I think I’m doing a pretty damn good job of that right about now. I watch as Kyle climbs back up, once again shredding the hell outta the dunes.
I lose sight of him, so I stare off into the distance. It’s magical when you’re out on top of the dunes. The wind drowns out all other sound as it whips around you. When I look one way, it appears as though there’s an endless sea of sand, whereas if I look the other way, I see grasslands and distant mountains.
The beauty and wonder of this place could inspire anyone.
“Hey.” Kyle drops his board and plops down, startling me out of my thoughts.
He’s breathing heavily, so I grab a water bottle out of my backpack and hand it over.
“Thanks,” he gasps before chugging half the thing.
“Have fun out there?” I ask, but I don’t mean it the way it sounds. “Sorry, Ky. Just wish I rented one of the sleds now. I didn’t realize I’d be such shit at sandboarding.” I laugh it off, even though it’s sort of a bummer.
Kyle throws his heavy arm around my shoulders, pulling me in closely. “Cheer up, Ren. There’s always tomorrow. Let’s head back to the RV and get cleaned up, maybe have a beer and chill out.”
It’s not even five o’clock, but I don’t care, I’m on vacation. I knock my head against Ky’s helmet. “Sounds good, bro. Let’s get the hell outta here.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
KYLE
After a pretty uncomfortable walk back to the RV, I’m ready to get out of these clothes. I didn’t fall down that many times, not like Ren, but I can still feel sandeverywhere.
“Man, hurry up!” I shout, banging on the one and only bathroom door. “It feels like I have sand in my ass crack,” I whine, shuffling on my feet as I pop open a can of Coke, hoping to distract myself from the chafing.
“Same!” Ren hollers from inside the tiny shower stall. “So, you gotta wait your turn!”
The overpowering need to get clean chips away at my patience, and I wish he’d just hurry up.
“Ahhh!” Ren shouts, his screams muffled by the running water.
“What?!” Worry flashes through me. “What is it?”
Did he hurt himself when he fell on the dunes?
I saw a few pretty bad wipeouts.
“Got sand in my pee hole too!” he hollers.
Jesus Christ.
