The Beach
451 Words
2:14PM. Private beach.
I couldn’t breathe in that room.
So I ran.
Bare feet. White shirt from last night. No bra. No plan.
The water was warm. I walked in until it hit my waist.
I didn’t care that I was soaked.
I needed the ocean to wash the look on his face off of me.
That cold. That… hurt.
“Thought you’d be here.”
I spun.
Damien.
No suit. No shirt.
Just black swim trunks. Water dripping down his chest.
He didn’t look away.
Not from my face. Not from my soaked shirt clinging to me.
“Mr. Cole,” I said. Voice shaking. “I was told to take the day off.”
“You did,” he said. “I’m not working right now.”
He waded in. Closer. Stopped when the water hit his stomach.
We were 3 feet apart.
“Show me,” he said.
“What?”
“Your collarbone.”
My hand went up. Automatic. “It’s nothing. I told you—”
“Show me, Ava.”
I pulled the wet collar down an inch.
The mark was faint now. Just a shadow.
He stared at it.
His throat moved.
“You didn’t answer me last night,” he said. “Did someone touch you?”
“No,” I whispered. “I swear. It was the door. I’m clumsy.”
He searched my face. Like he was looking for a lie.
He didn’t find one.
“Good,” he said. Quiet.
Relief. I saw it.
The tension broke. Just a little.
He took one more step. Water at his waist. Me at my chest.
“You’re shivering,” he said.
“I’m not cold.”
“Then why?”
“Because you were mad at me,” I said. “Because you think I—”
“I was never mad at you,” he cut in. “I was mad at the thought of it.”
The waves moved between us.
He reached out. Slow. Like he was asking permission.
His thumb brushed the mark. Barely.
A touch. Finally.
It wasn’t s****l. It was possession.
Mine.
“You didn’t do anything wrong,” he said. “I did. Last night. I shouldn’t have… said any of that.”
“But you meant it,” I said.
He didn’t answer.
He just looked at me. Soaked. Sunburned. His.
Then he dropped his hand.
“We should go in,” he said. “Before someone sees us.”
He turned first. Walked back to shore.
I followed.
*Note to Self: He touched me. On purpose.*
*Note to Self #2: He’s not sorry for wanting me. He’s sorry he said it out loud.*
- Writer
