The Epitome Of Us

Sign 12 Tristian's Confusion

"Tristian!" Cyril ran towards twelve year old me, barefoot on the beach. I stood with some older boys with a surfboard in his hand. I moved away from them and came towards Cyril. I didn't want them to meet him because boys like Cyril are usually bullied. The sky was golden and the ocean water was shimmering behind us, "Look!" His blue and green eyes shone in the evening light. I looked at him, "What?"

"I found an Oyster with a pearl!" Cyril shouted.

I smiled, "It's pretty,"

"Round pearls are rare," Cyril smiled.

"...Every pearl I've seen is round though,"

"Mate, those are all cultured or shaped. This one though, I freshly plucked it out,"

"You're growing oysters in your backyard again?"

"Yep. I dug a small pool. This is the first pearl they harvested!" Cyril smiled.

"You really love pearls,"

"I love everything that lives in the ocean,"

"How about surfing?" I asked.

"I am not interested in that,"

"Why? It's fun!"

"Maybe. I like studying about fishes and collecting shells. I don't like water sports, they seem so tiring,"

"All boys surf. Ain't you got that pure Aussie blood like me?" 

"Hmm... I don't think so," Cyril laughed.

Cyril was originally very feminine. He had pale hands and a feminine face with a beauty mark beneath his lips, attracting attention when anyone talked to him. Or maybe it was just me. He loved the ocean. He knew almost everything about it, all fishes, fawns, tides and moon glades. Whenever I'd go to look for him, I'd find him at that little reef surrounded by rocks and red algae, with fishes in a small glass jars, barefoot on the sand, collecting oysters or holding his breath underwater to explore the ocean. 

All other mates were busy surfing, but he was always at the shore, focusing on incarnate mysteries and details of the ocean. And I watched him from a distance. I can't surf, I'm falling. I'm losing my focus.

He was a free being.

No friends.

No connection with this world.

He was like a wandering body whose soul was lost in the ocean and he seemed to be finding it in every second of his existence. His hair is messy and he got sand on his scalp. 

But he seems too absorbed to notice that. 

"Crap!" Cyril gasped as he wounded his finger while tying to tie an earthworm around a sharp hook. We stood shirtless on a huge rock. I walked towards him, 

"Are you okay?" 

"Yeah," He sucked him thumb to stop the blood flow. I looked at him. I looked at his lips, how his beauty mark moved when he sucked his thumb. There's sweat running down his neck, his eyes look impatient and his chest lifts up and sinks down as he breathes heavily because it's just too hot. Hot like a fever. Cold like a summer drink. I like the smell of his sweat. His silky, brown hair look so damn fine. I reach my hands towards their cuticle and grab them tightly and pull him closer. Use my knees to spread his thighs, grab his wrists and hold them above his head, let my tongue find his, watch him turn red-

"Tristian?" Of course, it's all in my head.

...I'm going crazy. He is close. I can feel his warm breath above my lips. I'm caught in his limbo. How do we have to exchange kind words and pleasantries? I'm watching your tongue and mouth curve around every word you say. He look at me. I can't take my eyes off of his eyes.

"Cyril,"

"Yes?" 

"Please never change,"

But,

"You're learning how to surf?" I surfed behind him as we surfed at the top of a giant wave. We were seventeen, he had friends, girls liked talking to him, he looked handsome like those magazine models. He went on dates.

As the wave slowly came down, he did a quick carf and splashed water on my face. 

"Aw sorry, did I get you? My bad," He had an evil smile. I just looked at him go and hug a girl who squealed at how good he was.

He changed.

Staying under the sun made his pale skin go tan.

He began hiding his eyes under coloured lenses.

He didn't fish anymore, neither did he harvest pearls or go for swimming at night.

Is this what growing up is?

Because now,

You're just like everyone else; maybe worse.

And I hate you.

"So, today, we'll choose the captain of the surfing team,"

I was looking forward to it. I had practiced day and night for this very moment. 

"Cyril Edwards,"

What?

He walked towards him and smiled at the crowd, "Thanks, coach!"

What a fake smile. 

I walked out of the beach after practice. I wanted to tell Stella that I couldn't become the captain...Even though, I trained so hard for it. I went to her house and saw her with Cyril, they were kissing each other. I never bothered them again.

No matter how much I practiced,

I never became better than Cyril Edwards. He always stole the spotlight.

"THE AUSTRALIAN POSIDON!"

"THAT'S OUR CHAMPION!"

And now, at twenty one, I lay on my bed, looking at Cyril's poster on the wall. Three times champion of World Championship Surf, twenty year old Aussie boy with a bright surfboarding career. All I can say is..

"Hmm, can't relate,"

"Tristian! You got your finals today!" Mom shouted from downstairs. 

"Coming mom!" I picked up my surfboard and looked at Cyril's fake blue eyes on the poster, "Australian Poseidon, huh," He laughed, "Have mercy on me in today's surf invitational,"

.

"AND THE NEXT PARTICIPANT WE HAVE WITH US IS A TWO TIME WINNER OF THE AUSTRALIAN GRAND SURF CUP. LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, PLEASE WELCOME THE AUSTRALIAN POSEIDON–CYRIL EDWARDS"

I looked around at the ocean. There he was! His heterochromatic eyes shone under the sun. He picked up his blue surfboard and jumped into the water, landing on his stomach with his surfboard beneath him. He had that dolphin tattoo on his back and red freckles at the back of his neck. Man, I hate him. What a faker, show off.

I went into the water next and followed his lead. He slapped the wave beside him and went ahead. I narrowed my eyes and went up the wave.

The music played on the beach as the surfers hit the waves. Cyril flung his muscular arms into the air, as if absorbing the bright sun. His brown hair coped with the motion of the waves, swindling as his board left the water surface with him, right into the air.

While he was up in the air, he grabbed his surfboard and reversed the direction that he was surfing in one smooth fluid move, facing the water line with his chest.

"A FRONTSIDE CUTBACK!" The commentator shouted.

Then, he performed a smooth frontside turn on the bottom of the wave, where the water started to go flat. He leaned on his toes, got the rail into the water and started to run.

"Woo! I'm taking this baby on!" He shouted as he surfed.

"Not this year, Edwards!" I shouted and did a quick bottom turn.

"TRISTIAN MILLER DID A LOVELY BOTTOM TURN!" The commentator said on the speaker. Everyone stood at the beach and cheered by howling, whistling or clapping.

"Wow, that was a good one. But you know what" Cyril said and did an effortless Roundhouse Cutback, "I'm still better"

Gosh, can he ever shut up? Fine, I get it, your highness!

I did a Foam Climb followed by a floater.

"Let's see what counter-attack has Cyril Edwards panned for us," The announcer said.

"Okay Tristy, watch and learn," Cyril smirked. I hate it when this man smirks. Because whenever he does that, he always beats me. He made a trajectory on the way, rose up in the air and landed with a backflip on his surfboard. 

What the f**k?

A snap kickflip?! I've never seen anything like that before! It's beautiful!

But I still hate him.

"DID YOU SEE THAT?! IT WAS MIND-BLOWING!" The commentator shouted.

"He's a stubbie short of a six-pack, that bloke"

"'TWAS A SNAP KICKFLIP!" The commentator shouted.

The horn went off and thus marked the finals.

Boy, I'm not winning this.

I came back home and just went inside my room with the second place medal in my hands.

"Tristian, how was it?"

I just closed my door. She must've understood that Cyril won. Again.

I'm so tired of losing. 

Just once, I wanna beat him. 

A week later, I went to the beach to practice for the winter trophy. I practiced throughout the day. In the evening, I was just about to leave when I heard a loud noise.

"EDGAR!" I heard. Was someone drowning? I dropped my surfboard and ran towards the rocks. 

"HELP ME!" I chased the voice. I saw a hand in the water and jumped inside the water. It seemed as if her leash was stuck in the rocks so I just stretched it and broke it off. She grabbed me and I took her up the surface of water. She landed on the rocks and convulsed out saltwater.

"My chest feels like it's gonna blowout,"

"You shouldn't surfboard at night if you ain't a professional," What an i***t.

"I am a professional!" She shouted and turned back. I recognised those eyes! It was Cyril! 

"Cyril Edwards?"  I laughed, "What the hell? Why are you here?"

Oh God, he looks like a girl. I haven't seen him from this close since high school.

"It's got nothing to do with you," Cyril got up.

Cold as ever. 

I looked at his legs. Well, they looked awfully thin. And what happened to all his muscles. He wasn't all pumped, but, his body was pretty toned. Now, he just looks skinny.

"Hey, you look thin. Ain't you eating well? And what the hell happened to your hair? Looks gay as f**k," Aw man, I'm such a rude bastard.

"Leave me alone,"

Maybe, I went a bit too far, "Hey" I grabbed his arm. They were soft and slender.

"What do you want?!" He yelled.

"Your face looks kinda weird, not to mention, your voice–"

"Yeah, my voice, my wish," He tried to pull away. But with those girly arms, not a chance.

I chuckled, "Don't tell me you can't pull away,"

"Shut the f**k up!"

"It's pretty unusual for you to lose your temper,"

"Today ain't the day to mess with me!" Cyril pulled away and I left his arm. He went down but that plonker grabbed my hair.

"BASTARD!" We fell but Cyril pressed his elbows on the rock beneath him to prevent his head from hitting the ground. I quickly pressed my hand above his chest to balance myself in a plank over his chest. Because I knew if I fell on this lad, he would end up with broken ribs.

He moaned and quickly covered his mouth.

Wait...

It's so

Soft?

He pushed me away and I fell on the other side. He jumped into the ocean and swam away while I looked at my hands.

"Cyril Edwards..." I remembered every moment I had with him, "Don't tell me you were a really flat girl all along,"

Now, this s**t is creepy.

-To be continued