fang watches as the last of the movers climb into the cab of their truck and leave. his mom comes up behind him, placing a hand on his shoulder.
"i know this is rough for you - moving for the third time - but i appreciate you for sticking it out." he just shrugs.
"hey, it's not the end of the world. as long as you're happy with your new job, i think i'll live." she smiles at him before brushing a lock of his dark hair back and tucking it behind his pierced ear.
"i'm so lucky to have you," she whispers.
— if he's being honest, he wasn't really pleased with having to uproot his entire life and move again. minnesota had been nice. he'd made some good friends and his teachers liked him, even if he was stubbornly quiet.
but he would rather cut off his thumb than complain to his mother, who often worked 10+ hours at her office job. it had taken her years of fighting for even a halfway decent position in the company; but the trade - off was that she was at their beck and call. if they said jump, she asked how high? there were no ifs, buts or any kind of bargaining.
she would feel horrible if fang lodged a legitimate complaint.
(it wasn't really that bad. they always went to nice places in good suburbs, yet - it was definitely a setback when forming connections - often fang held himself back because what was the point if they maybe moved in four months?)
he decided resolutely after she announced they were moving to cali that he wouldn't say anything because he knew the second he did she would drop her job and do whatever she could. not in a oh, that kid is so spoiled sort of way but his grandparents had been terrifying workaholics and he knew his mother was afraid to follow in their footsteps. she didn't for one second want to make fang as miserable as she had been at his age.)
that evening, he slides open the glass doors in their den and walks out onto the porch. it's a little after four, and the beach outside his house is quiet and almost ghostly. he steps down off the wooden deck and into the white sand; marveling at how soft and warm it is.
the other times they had moved, his mom had been relocated to more northern parts of the country (again, not horrible, but cold and rainy for sure). california is a nice change of scenery.
he tucks his hands into the pockets of his navy cargo shorts, dark eyes scanning the beach for signs of people.
a particularly large splash draws his attention to the right.
it's a girl, cursing under her breath. fang peers at her. her lashes are almost a dusty red - orange, and her hair is dishwater blonde. a constellation of freckles speckle her face. her mouth is full and pink, and a chipped tooth grabs at her bottom lip in frustration. her wetsuit reads ONE WAY across the side. a surfboard bobs in the shallows beside her.
"are you just gonna stare or are you gonna offer me a hand? isn't that what guys are supposed to do?" she asks snarkily, soap - green eyes catching his.
he gazes at her thoughtfully before answering. "i mean, i'd think it's simply a general courtesy. it's not really gender - conformant." he says quietly.
at this, a smile cracks her mask of irritation and she stands on her own; flipping her mane of wavy saltwater hair over her shoulder.
"i'm max."
fang comes to the conclusion that he's met the local beach goddess.
he takes her palm and they shake hands.
"nic. but you can call me fang."
he sees her once more after that while he's in the kitchen through the window. she's walking with some friends — namely a tall pale boy, a shorter girl with mocha skin and two younger kids with nearly identical faces. some boys that look closer to her age straggle behind her, chatting amongst themselves.
fang is mildly annoyed by the fact that he has to share the beach goddess, but he just hums and loads the last of the plates into the dishwasher.
"fang, you should come with me downtown tomorrow. i'm meeting an old high school friend." his mom wanders into the kitchen, shuffling mindlessly through some bills and junk mail.
he makes a noncommittal grunt.
"you'd like her daughter. she's got a nice sense of humour, and she enjoys staying inside just as much as you do."
the look he shoots her is dark, but she merely laughs. "i mean it. i think you would hit it off. friends or otherwise."
fang says nothing, but he thinks, why the hell not. maybe i could get a coffee out of it.
(he gets much more than coffee.)
"valencia!" his mom is waving frantically at a muscular woman with a thick rope braid hanging down her back. the café they've chosen is open and sunny and full of flowers. fang likes it. sun is so nice. refreshing.
valencia smiles and shields her eyes from said burning orb and waves back.
"hola! que pasa?" they're chattering excitedly with each other in spanish by the time fang makes his way over. he feels a small smile twist his lips at his mom's excitement. she only ever gets to speak to him in spanish really anymore.
he glances around the airy café, looking at the various plants. there's lots of succulents, he notes. he'll have to come back.
imagine his surprise as Beach Goddess emerges from the women's bathroom. her sunglasses look like they've walked right from the 1980's onto her face. she's so pretty. fang's gonna die, probably.
his thoughts are racing at a million miles a minute as she walks towards them and taps valencia on the shoulder. "quien es?" she inquires, gesturing towards them. then her eyes lock with fang's and his face must be falling off maybe because he opens his mouth but nothing comes out.
"h - hola," he manages to stammer out.
she blinks. "hablas espanol?" her mom elbows her, scolding her for not using formalities.
"uh, yeah. ever since i was little. i'm from mexico. well, my mom is. i'm just - well." he stops.
"oh. eres latino. soy hispana."
he feels a lopsided grin form. "eres linda, either way. i've been meaning to tell you."
she blushes and covers her mouth with her elbow, sunglasses falling down her nose. her eyebrows are scrunched fiercely and he laughs.
(he kisses her a week later, in the waves on the beach. she tastes like saltwater and clean air and he thinks he could be in love.)
additional notes: fax was my first otp and will be my last until my dying breath. too bad james Patterson screwed his great characters over hhnngh. also im still pissed about that movie. ew. come rant to me about how you agree or just leave a nice review below. thx. bye