Chapter Eight

“Nice suit,” you remark as we stand hand-in-hand ankle deep in the surf of a beach.

“Thanks,” I say, only to realize you might have been joking when I see what I’m wearing. Stupid polka dots. They’re so unflattering, especially in this disgusting shade of green. “You, too,” I say, gazing at your plain blue shorts, and we burst out laughing.

“Want to go in?” you ask, and I nod. You grip my hand and take a little leap farther into the water. It’s freezing, and I start shaking.

“You’re cold,” you observe quickly, and rush me back to the land. You carry me the whole way in your strong arms, and lay me gently on a beach towel. You wrap another around my arms and rub my shoulders with it, drying me off quickly. You put your palm on my forehead, and I wake up to the sound of the waves crashing against the surf.

The End

5 comments about this story Feed