Natalie Anderson - One Summer At The Beach

She had no idea how long she’d been sitting there, but she wasn’t alone any more. There were people arriving with sunscreen and shades. She should get up and get some breakfast. Face the world again. But she didn’t move—couldn’t be bothered and she sure wasn’t hungry.

She played with the sand, drawing up a handful and letting it run through her fingers. She’d feel better soon. She had so much to look forward to—this was merely a wait in the wings before her adventure. But she wished for more of last night’s adventure—more of him. She felt bad for not explaining things to him. He’d been wonderful and she’d just disappeared. It wasn’t her usual style. None of it had been her usual style—and that had been the whole point. To have been able to have it like that she’d had to leave.

She’d struggled to find her way out of the bar at first. Disoriented. Dazed. The crowd had seemed crazy. She’d forgotten other people existed. She’d felt so cocooned in that darkness. She hadn’t wanted to go. Her body had ached to lie with his, to sleep curled beside his. It had hated the fact she was walking away. It had not been what was meant to happen. They had been supposed to rest. And then do it all again.

She shook off the sand, picked up the pen again, pulling the cap off and replacing it, over and over.

‘Did you sleep well?’

She jerked her head up, dropping the pen and her jaw as she looked at the tall person towering over her.

Oh, God, it was him.

‘What—you didn’t expect to see me again?’

She snapped her journal shut, and her mouth. Stuffed the fabric-covered, hardbound book into the bottom of her bag. Bought some more time by hunting for the lid of the pen, but it was lost for ever in the sand. Hot blood burned in her cheeks. ‘Um. I…um…’

‘I didn’t sleep too well, actually, thanks for asking.’

She cleared her throat, but still couldn’t get words to come out.

‘You see, I met this girl—’

‘Rhys,’ she croaked.

‘Oh. You remember my name.’

‘Of course I remember your name!’

He squatted down beside her. And she saw into his face properly. Got a shock. He was looking ferocious. Angry as hell.

She got in quickly then, words flying. ‘Look, I’m really sorry about last night.’

‘I’m not. Yet. I hope I’m not going to be.’

Confusion deepened the burn in her face.

His eyes, mainly slate, captured hers. ‘Like, in nine months time going to be sorry. The mother of all honey traps, was it?’

‘What?’ Her clammy hands covered her inferno-like flush. She grasped his implication. Nine months? As in B-A-B-Y? He thought she used him to get pregnant? As if.

‘Contraception is covered, trust me.’ She choked the words out. Marriage and children might be on most people’s list of life ambitions but they’d never be on hers. She didn’t want any child of hers living the kind of cloistered life she’d suffered and she didn’t want to commit to someone only to have to leave them too soon—as her father had left her mother.

The hardness in his eyes didn’t soften a jot. ‘It’s a dangerous game you play.’

‘I don’t. I…I really don’t do that,’ she stammered. Annoyed with her mortification. Annoyed that she felt the desperate need to defend herself against his thoughts. It shouldn’t matter. But it did. He’d been amazing. And she’d just snuck off. She wanted to slink away now. But couldn’t. He thought she was some hideous tramp?

‘I meant it when I said I didn’t usually…’ She faltered under his implacability, finally looking away. ‘I’m so embarrassed. I got carried away. It was the tequila slammers.’

‘You only had one.’

‘I had more before you arrived.’

‘Rubbish. I was watching you from the moment you walked in.’

She swallowed. Nerves stretching taut—how could she possibly explain this to him?

‘You spend all your holidays having one-nighters with people you hardly know?’ He laughed. It sounded dangerously like a snarl. ‘It wasn’t even one whole night, just a turgid hour. A quick lay and you’re off. Did you find someone else for the rest of the night?’

‘No!’ Anger settled in her. She would not have him demean their experience. OK, so she hadn’t been particularly thoughtful, but there was no need for things to turn nasty. ‘No. That’s sleazy. What we did was not sleazy.’

‘What was it, then?’

‘A beautiful memory.’

He paused at that. When he spoke again it was softer. ‘Past tense?’

She looked back to the sea, not wanting to see him and suffer the bitter temptation of something she couldn’t ever have again. ‘Past.’

There was a long silence. She hoped he’d take the hint and leave. Her heart was fraying round the edges. Was this why so many women regretted one-night stands? There really was no such thing as ‘just walk away’. Things always got complicated.

She wasn’t naïve enough to think you could fall in love with someone after a one-night stand. But she certainly cared about what he thought. Too much. It was only because he’d done something for her that no one else ever had been able to. The stars had been aligned, maybe there had been a full moon—some sort of mysterious magic? Anyhow, it was a one-off—those circumstances couldn’t be repeated.

He didn’t leave, rather he sat on the sand, stretched his legs out alongside hers.

He still had the same shirt on but it was looking rumpled. His tanned arms were tense. More stubbly shadow darkened his jaw. The cold light of day—and he was even more gorgeous. Wilder looking than last night, but that, she suspected, was because he was feeling a little wild. With her.

Fair enough.

She felt compelled to talk honestly. ‘I didn’t expect to see you again.’

He lay back, resting on his elbow, the length of his beautiful body shown off. Hers went all soft inside and she over-compensated—tensing on the outer.

‘You just ran into the night like Cinderella, only you didn’t leave me a glass slipper, you left me these.’

Mortified, she watched as he pulled her panties out of his pocket. A scrap of lace and elastic. Looking a lot like something a streetwalker would wear.

It was an effort to speak—a squeak, really. ‘Can I have them back?’

‘No.’ A half-smile quirked the corners of his mouth up. ‘I don’t think you can. Because, unlike you, for me that hour wasn’t anywhere near enough.’

‘I’m sorry?’

‘Last night was an appetiser. My appetite is well and truly whetted. I want you in a bed, my bed, with all the hours of darkness ahead of us.’

Colour flooded her. Top to toe. She knew it did. She could hear blood beating in her ears, feel it in her cheeks, the palms of her hands. Even her ankles were blushing—her knees. Actually blushing. And it wasn’t just embarrassment.

It was the most words he’d strung together in the short time she’d known him and she wished he hadn’t because his voice was rich and deep and she couldn’t help but listen—and be seduced. And she couldn’t help but look at his mouth as it moved and really those lips alone were seductive enough.

As for what he’d actually said…

The blush deepened. But she didn’t have a chance in succeeding a second time. She’d have to get naked—and that she didn’t want to do. She’d never forgotten the look on Neil’s face. The way he’d recoiled. Everything would change.

‘One night. What do you say? Finish off what we started.’

She melted more into the sand.

‘It was only the beginning, you know.’

If she had any kind of backbone she’d stand and walk away. But her bones weren’t there any more, there was just mush. Wanting, so badly, what she couldn’t have.