It’s Wednesday after classes and my friend, Nomkhita, is taking selfies of us with our jeans rolled up and the waves crashing behind us. She is in white with gold buttons and a gold belt. I’m in my usual black.

A huge wave surprises us. Nomkhita screams and skips up the beach. Her clothes are totally wet. I managed to leap out of the way so I’m only wet to my knees. Luckily, it’s a hot winter’s day in Cape Town. My mother had warned me before I came, ‘It rains and rains and rains’. But it’s June and everyone is praying for rain. I wipe Nomkhita’s Nokia on my shirt, try to see if it still works.

I met Nomkhita on my first day in college and we stick together like family. She is studying hospitality, I’m studying accounting. We share a tiny room above a surfboard repair shop near Pick n Pay. I stay quiet, out of the way against the wall, while she takes up all the space and talks and talks and talks. She is rain. I’m drought. It’s perfect.

“Your phone okay?” A beautiful white boy stands over me, breathes into my ear. He has curly, curly hair and a bare chest, his wetsuit pulled down to his waist. His body is a weightlifter’s shape, pumped up. His skin is sun-tanned to a caramel shade. I move out of the way, give the phone back to Nomkhita. I see his eyes stroke the white clothes that cling to her skin.

“Do you maybe want a surf lesson? I’m Adrian.”

Nomkhita smiles. “I can’t swim.”

“You don’t need to. It’s shallow.”

“I have no costume.” It sounds like she is resisting, but the grin that she gives him is utterly charming.

“You’re already wet.” He turns to me. His eyes flick over my breasts. “What about you?”

I shake my head. “Sharks.”

“They don’t come this close to shore.”

I want him to go away but Nomkhita is sidling closer, staring at his surfboard lying on the sand, with its pale blue stripes.

“You won’t let me drown?”

The sun does sparkling tricks inside his green eyes as he smiles. He bends down and tapes the board’s leash to her ankle. Nomkhita grins at me over his curly head.

“Bye, Yonela, I hope I see you again.”

***

Tell us: Does anything make you suspicious of this boy, like Yonela, or is she being paranoid?