4: The Beach House

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I know, I know, it's a late upload... I've just been very busy lately! Lots of school work and general stuff going on, so... Oh, and also, NaNoWriMo. More about that at the end though :)

For now, just sit back and enjoy the next chapter... Hope you like it!! xx

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Chapter 4

The next couple of days went past weirdly fast. We weren’t even doing all that much. We’d get up late, go to the beach and body-board or swim, maybe play some Frisbee, go back up to the beach house for lunch, and either go back to the beach or stay around our little pool for the afternoon. Usually in the afternoon, Lee and Noah would fall asleep. I didn’t know how they could fall asleep like that for a couple of hours, but at least Lee wasn’t bugging me to do something fun instead of sunbathing and reading a book.

Sunday, Lee was getting all pent up. He was like an excited puppy dog since Rachel was coming the next day. But that also meant he was all over the place. He told us he was going to get ice creams, but came back with a pair of flippers.

I didn’t even ask.

He was texting Rachel so much, I said, totally exasperated with his phone bleeping every four seconds, “For Pete’s sake, Lee! Just go call her! Jeez!”

Noah chuckled, but Lee just said, “Okay!” really chirpily, and was already dialing her as he walked off.

“He is so whipped, it’s stopped being funny,” Noah told me gravely. “How long do you think it’ll be until I have to put on a penguin suit for the wedding?”

I laughed. “Hmm, I say two years.”

“That long? Really?”

I laughed again, tipping my head back up to the sun. I could feel the sweat beading on my back, on my forehead. “I’m really thirsty,” I said suddenly. “Do you want to grab a Coke from the bar?”

There were a couple of beach houses near to ours, and the stretch of beach that the houses were lined up against was like a private beach. I was never a hundred percent sure if the beach was actually private, but we always had to go a little further down the beach to the little beach shop, the surf shack and the bar.

I loved the bar on the beach; there was something about it that made me think Caribbean. It had a thick straw roof, shaped like a giant umbrella, and the drinks were always served with little paper umbrellas in them.

“Sure,” Noah answered me. He dug underneath his towel for his wallet, taking out a few dollar bills. “Let’s go.”

We were talking about something really random; a new song, or something like that, waiting for the barman to get around to serving us. I was glancing around, and caught a couple of guys talking, and they were looking at Noah. He half had his back to them, so he didn’t see, but I got the feeling they were talking about him.

“Do you know those guys? Over there?” I asked before I could even think about what I was saying – because knowing me, I could’ve just been overreacting and they weren’t even looking at him.

Noah looked around, right at the guys who were looking at him. I guessed they were maybe around our age – soon-to-be-seniors or freshmen at college.

I was about to smack at his arm, thinking that it was stupid for him to look at them so obviously, but then I realized that Noah most likely didn’t even give a damn. He turned back around, not looking fazed at all, but before I could say a word the barman got to us.

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