d a m s e l i n d i s g u i s e

I wished this could've proceeded like any other cheesy teenage rom-com.

Because if it were one, then the boy standing in front of me would've been a six-pack – sorry, eight-pack – Adonis sex-god, built lean and tall and tanned. He'd have windswept hair and lovely azure-coloured eyes and a killer smile.

And then I could've had a whale of a time ogling his figure and, perhaps, letting my eyes stray a little lower.

Unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on which way you looked at it), the boy standing in front of me didn't.

Oh, he had muscles alright; lithe, sinewy veins that crept along his forearms, light ridges across his abdomen. He wasn't exactly pale, he was just much less tanned than I was; but then again, I did spend a lot of time on the beach, and this boy looked like he hardly left the house.

But all these little details, of course, were completely overshadowed by his outfit, or lack thereof. The yellow of his trunks was just so bright. And it was so tiny it looked like it was made for a kid.

And because of that, he seemed to be having a huge problem hiding his – uh, package, if his two hands shielding it from my eyes was any indication.

I stared at him for a brief moment, before raising my eyebrows. This was by far and large the most ridiculous thing I'd ever seen. I hardly knew whether to laugh in amusement or to cry because of how pathetic the situation was. It took a tremendous effort for me to keep a straight face.

"The bathroom's behind," I explained, for this happened fairly often. Occasionally, we'd see tourists who looked positively lost, entering our shack by accident and claiming they mistook it as the bathroom. "Go round this shack, and head back up the sidewalk – "

But then I trailed off as my eyes met his. The blue in his irises were an equal mix of embarrassment and frustration. The smile that was beginning to twitch its way across my lips was immediately wiped off when I realised that this situation was different. Clearly, he hadn't bargained for this.

Because no one in their right mind would wear that pair of shorts, ever. If you could even call it shorts in the first place.

"You alright?" I immediately wanted to slap myself for the pointlessness of my question. Of course he wasn't alright.

Nevertheless, his expression remained unchanging at my words. His jaw was clenched; an almost impassive look on his face like he was trying to pretend everything was okay.

Obviously, it wasn't.

"Can I hide in here for awhile?" he returned, but I could detect the panic he was trying to mask behind the roughness of his voice.

"Uh, sure," I said quickly, before dragging out a chair for him, making sure that I placed it in the far corner of the shack so he'd be hidden from clear view. He probably didn't want to be seen by anybody, least of all beach-goers who'd probably laugh for ages if they had a glimpse of him. "Have a seat."

The boy sat, making sure that his arms were folded over his lap. He looked thoroughly uncomfortable and awkward, and although I hardly knew him (well, actually, I didn't know him at all), I felt a pang of sympathy for him.

"Stay here," I instructed, before belatedly realising that it was a rather pointless thing to say, because where else was he going to go, really?

Ignoring my verbal slip, I headed over to the shelves, where dozens of new marine-blue towels were stacked. They were meant to be for sale, but I figured taking a few wouldn't matter much.

Mom and Dad were hardly penny-pinchers; well, Mom was a tad thrifty, but that was only because she'd had a hard life as a kid. I knew she was going to understand this situation perfectly well and would agree to me helping this boy.

So I didn't think twice about it when I grabbed two towels and went back to the boy, who stared at me with wide eyes. His eyes widened even further when I draped one towel around him, and dropped the other lightly onto his lap.

"Thanks," he muttered softly, pulling the towels tighter around him, a defence mechanism, as if the towels had the ability to shield him and ease away his embarrassment.

I waved his gratitude away and settled down on the stool opposite, surveying him with interest. It wasn't everyday I saw a boy with yellow polka-dotted trunks enter the shack.

"So. You want to tell me what happened?"

My question seemed to alarm him, and he hesitated briefly before saying, so lowly I almost couldn't hear him, "Frat hazing."

It took awhile for his words to register, but when they did, the pieces immediately began falling into place. Fraternity hazings weren't uncommon things; I saw them fairly often, particularly since there were a couple of colleges around the same area.

Generally, they weren't so bad, just the usual tussling and scuffles, all in good fun. But then, of course, there was one college notoriously known for its fraternity and sorority initiations, and I could easily guess which school he was attending.

"You go to Riverton?" I asked, and he nodded.

No surprise there. Riverton was a fairly infamous college a couple miles away, which boasted decent academic results and an all-rounded education. The football programme there was excellent, and lots of kids from Denver High (which was a high school around this area) wanted to attend Riverton after their graduation. The two schools seemed practically affiliated to each other.

"Tough luck," I said, sympathetically, "What did they do to you?"

His cheeks immediately turned several shades of red. "They – um, they blindfolded me and, uh – "

"It's okay," I blurted, cutting in abruptly.

His stammering had made me suddenly feel bad for prying. After all, it was really none of my business and my persistent questioning, coupled with his current state of undress, must've embarrassed him. A lot.

Besides, I could vaguely guess what had happened. It was the classic hazing situation. The guys in the fraternity had probably ambushed him somewhere, before blindfolding and stripping him. Then they made him wear the trunks, drove him to the beach and dumped him here, leaving him to find his own way back.

So, instead of probing further, I offered him my kindest smile when he looked up at me. "I don't really want to know anyway."

He smiled faintly, a dimple appearing on one side of his cheek, which thoroughly fascinated me, since not a lot of people I knew had dimples, and I was an absolute sucker for them.

Almost instantly, I felt the urge to poke a finger into the crevice of his cheek, and it took a huge effort to quench the irrational impulse. Because really, this situation was already awkward enough.

"Where are the rest of your belongings?" I asked, at last, when both of us had kept silent for awhile and the atmosphere was beginning to get a little awkward. Or a whole lot awkward, really, because how comfortable could you possibly get with a practically naked stranger wrapped in towels? "Your cell? Wallet?"

He flushed. "I don't know, really."

Letting out a thoughtful "hmm," I frowned for awhile, wondering what was the best way to go about it.

The only important and sensible thing to do now was to help the boy get dressed. But one quick glance around the shack made me realise that my parents only stocked the basics: towels and swimwear; both of which were hardly going to provide this boy with decent dressing.

There was no other alternative – I had to get help from Greg and his friends. Going back home and borrowing clothes from Ean or my Dad would only raise far too many suspicions and questions.

But first things first. Sending a quick text to Ean, I told him that I'd be manning Wavelength for awhile longer and he didn't need to bring my lunch over. No worries there – I'd go back home to eat soon enough. Perhaps it was the sudden arrival of this boy, because either way, I didn't feel that hungry anymore.

Slipping my phone back into the pocket of my shorts, I walked over to the freezer and pushed open the sliding door. A frigid, icy cold blast of air hit me square in the face. It was a lovely feeling that thoroughly perked me up, and I had to blink a couple of times before reaching in to grab a couple of ice pops.

Selecting the grape flavour from the lot, I tossed it at him. He barely caught it. Clearly, he hadn't a whole lot of ball-sense, which amused me a little. Most boys I knew were thoroughly athletic.

"Wait right here, okay?" I told him kindly.

His eyes widened in surprise and he nodded, his fingers curling around the ice pop, the wrapper crinkling under the slight pressure he had on it.. And I felt his gaze on me as I hopped over the counter and headed towards Greg.

Even as I walked down the beach, passing by the adults who were sun-tanning and little children building sandcastles, my thoughts were still consumed by the boy back in the shack.

It was difficult to get his gaze out of my head. There was something awfully shy and frank and innocent about it, like everyone around him had the propensity and capability to hurt him, and it was only just a matter of time when they did.

The thought of that worried me. A boy like that couldn't possibly survive fraternity hazings.

After a minute's walk, I found Greg and his friends near the lifeguard post. Greg had that aforementioned girl (the one with the bright pink bikini) practically draped around him. I presumed the pickup line had actually worked on the girl, which really surprised me.

Honestly, some girls fell for anything these days. Either that or the heat from the sun had gotten to her brain. I couldn't decide which one was worse.

I observed the group of them carefully. There were generally more of them, but today there were only four. Vince had his girlfriend seated on his lap, and judging by the wicked smile she had on her face, he was no doubt whispering really inappropriate things to her.

Keith was the current lifeguard on duty. His eyes were trained on the people swimming in the shallow part of the sea, but I couldn't tell if he was actually looking out for danger or watching the girls in bikinis. It was hard to tell, really.

He and Greg were both lifeguards, which was why they frequented the beach on a daily basis. I knew without a doubt that the both of them enjoyed their job to the fullest, since they got hit on by about ten girls a day.

And last but not least, there was Callum, who was by far the most intimidating of the lot. He was actually pretty nice, but he gave off this vibe like he didn't want to be talked to or even acknowledged. When I first saw him, I was terrified of him.

He was being his usual self at the moment – aloof and entirely closed-off as he sat on the deck chair, his emotionless eyes shielded by his sunglasses.

"Hello, boys," I greeted, cheerfully, and waved the colourful wrappers at them.

The four of them turned in my direction, surveying me with an equal mix of interest and suspicion, which was no surprise really since I hardly came around on my own. Most of the time, they were the ones who disturbed me on my shift at Wavelength.

"Ice pop anyone?"

Keith grinned down at me. "What do you want, Darcy?"

"Oh, come on, can't a girl just offer ice pops without her intentions being questioned?"

"No."

That came from Callum, shrewd as always, and I scowled because nothing ever got past him. While I used to be intimidated by him in the past, I realised eventually that underneath his tough façade was a regular teenage boy and I had nothing to be afraid of.

"Well, fine, if you must know, I'm in a little fix at the moment and I need your help."

Greg rolled his eyes at me. "Hand it over, then."

I obediently handed out the ice pops, a cordial, over-affectionate smile on my face. The boys all seemed thoroughly amused, and I knew they were trying to hide their laughter. When I held out the last ice pop to Keith, however, he didn't make a move at all.

"Put it in my mouth, will you? My hands are tied."

The sexual innuendo behind his words were clear, except really, if I was being all technical about it, the girl ought to have been the one saying it, not the guy. But it would've been far too crass for me to actually point it out.

Instead, I simply smiled sweetly up at him. "Give me your spare lifeguard jacket and I will."

"Why?"

" I need it. It's an emergency," I returned, thinking of that poor, almost-naked boy in the shack. I sure as hell hoped he wasn't going to leave in my absence, because going anywhere with that pair of yellow polka-dotted trunks was an absolute travesty.

Keith stared down at me suspiciously, and I widened my eyes, hoping to appeal to his better nature. Even though his better nature was deep (deep, deep, deep) down inside, since Keith was an all-around jock with a rough, tough exterior.

"Please?"

"Fine," he grumbled, and tossed down the jacket he had slung over the side of the lifeguard chair.

I caught it easily, and handed the ice pop over. "Thanks. Now I need pants. Any one of you have a spare pair?"

Vince's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Why do you need so many clothes for? Do you have a naked boy in your shack or something?"

Not naked. But close. Very, very close.

It took a huge effort for me to maintain a straight and wide-eyed expression. I couldn't give anything away, not now at least. Because if I told them, they were probably going to race down to the shack to catch a glimpse of the poor boy, and then proceed to laugh their asses off at him.

"Of course not. Ean spilled some coke on his clothes and needs a new set."

"Why don't I believe you?"

My eyes narrowed at Greg's words, but just as I was about to reply with a sarcastic comeback, Callum's icy voice sliced through the tense atmosphere.

"Here, take Greg's. He's the only one with a spare."

Callum tossed it over and I caught it, ignoring Greg's whines of protest. Like I said, Callum was scary at first but he was actually really nice if he wanted to be. "Thank you. I'll get it dry cleaned and everything, I promise."

Greg made a noncommittal noise in response, and I thanked all of them before returning back to the shack. To my greatest relief, the boy was still there, his bare toes nudging the sand on the floor as he traced lazy patterns on it. His ice pop was long gone by then, the crumpled wrapper in one of his hands.

He glanced up when I hoisted myself over the counter, and I grinned. "Hi again. So I got you some clothes." His eyes widened when I pushed the clothes into his arms, taking the ice pop wrapper from him. "It's not much but, well, at least it's decent."

An expression of utter gratefulness crossed his face, and he stared at me like he still couldn't believe his eyes. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it, go ahead and change."

I continued smiling, until I realised that he was staring at me rather awkwardly. It took awhile for the situation to sink in, but finally it dawned on me that he was uncomfortable with changing in front of me.

Most boys usually weren't. Then again, most boys I met at the beach had the most wonderful muscles on display for the world to see. And they liked the world seeing their muscles.

"Oh. Oh – sorry!" I blurted, before whirling around and placing my hands over my eyes. "Okay, my eyes are shut now, go ahead."

There was some shuffling in the background as he changed, and when he was done, he cleared his throat. But I hesitated. Obviously, this boy didn't seem as confident as most guys were, and I hardly wanted another awkward situation again.

"Done?"

"Yeah."

Bringing my hands back down to my sides, I turned around to face him. Keith's red and white lifeguard jacket didn't quite seem to match Greg's dark blue board shorts but, well, it was going to have to do. One couldn't be picky about fashion in such a situation.

"Great," I chirped, taking the towels from him. "I'll give you some money so you can take a cab home. Or would you like to call someone to pick you up?"

"You don't have to do this," he said, his eyes following me guardedly as I folded the towels in a haphazard manner before tossing them onto the counter. "I can walk back."

"Without shoes?" I asked, staring pointedly at his bare feet. His toes involuntarily curled when I said that, like he was unconsciously shrinking into himself under my gaze. "I don't think so."

Then I quickly shoved a wad of cash into his hands before he could protest. Those were my tips for the day, but I figured it didn't matter, since he had to come back sooner or later to return me the clothes. Besides, I wasn't hard pressed for money at the moment.

"Just follow the path adjacent to the shack. It'll lead you right back to the main road."

The wave of gratitude that washed over his face that instant made me feel like I'd just done the whole world a huge favour. And the smile that tilted up the corners of his lips was small and hesitant. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me. Just stay safe, alright?"

He nodded, and murmured another quick word of thanks before leaving the shack by the back door. He cut a funny, odd sight – his feet were bare, chestnut-coloured hair windswept, nothing but a wad of cash in his hands.

And I watched him leave, a smile playing on my lips, hardly aware that his leaving was only the beginning of everything that was to come.