if one would look up the definition of a surferboy, then what they would read would describe thiago perfectly

the boy was quite the literal image of such a term, with his blond hair that got insanely light during summer and his skin in contrast got more tanned, making his green eyes appear more piercing than they already did

during summer break he jobbed at the small beach bar, earning him some money for oversized graphic tees, surfing stuff and the occasional digital-camera-tax that he paid his friend carlotta in exchange for cool retro pics of sunsets and their hangouts

when asked what his favorite season may be, he never ever thought twice summer, obviously

nothing better than warm air, cool water, sparkling soda, tanlines - whether on him or on the pretty girls that he encountered at the beach -, long days and short nights and no school

his friendgroup's daily hangouts were probably his favorite part of the hottest months of the year; thiago was lucky that carlotta, charlie, alyssa, aaron, sammy and maxim (who had recently discovered that he was good enough with kids to work at his summer camp, therefore going missing for weeks at a time) all had a thing for surfing, or at least for spending hours marinating in sunscreen, sand and salty water while blasting music and eating fruit

one activity they had just recently found out about that wasn't playing cards or beach volleyball, was henna tattoos

a dream come true for teens that wanted 'dope ass tats' but weren't old enough to get them permanently yet

"it tickles," thiago complained against the tanned skin of his bicep as his head was halfway buried underneath his arms, blond hair damp and almost wavy from the ocean's waves, through which he'd just surfed for almost two hours straight, "and it's got a weird texture"

trying his best not to move excessively so you wouldn't mess up the design of a particularly detailed stingray on his shoulder he grabbed a slice of watermelon from the cooled box carlotta had brought