Surfer's Tension by HG
Pausing for a last look across the sprawling dunes to the beach, the sound of a distant radio drifting tinnily over to them, Doyle's face was pensive.
"Maybe it'll rain tomorrow," he said, casting a hopeful look at the piercing blue of the sky.
"Why?" asked Bodie in simple puzzlement. He loaded his board onto Doyle while he fished for the car keys in the bottom of the holdall.
"We could stay in the cottage."
"Don't you want to come surfing tomorrow then?"
Boards fastened to the roof-rack and bags disposed of on the back seat of the car, Doyle slid in next to him. "Not particularly, but I suppose you won't wear that again otherwise."
"Course I will. Can wear it in the bath, can't I?" Bodie pointed out reasonably. He drew a patient breath. "Have you got a rubber fetish or something?"
The winding coast road was virtually empty of traffic, the sun was shining and a warm breeze caught his hair through the open car window. Doyle leant his head back, closed his eyes and reaching out, settled his hand comfortably over Bodie's thigh, letting it rest there.
"Or something," he confirmed.