2.4 | Knight In Distress ✓

02 | damsel in disguise

0 2

d a m s e l   i n   d i s g u i s e

I wished this could've proceeded like any other cheesy teenage rom-com.

Because if it were one, then the boy standing in front of me would've been a six-pack – sorry, eight-pack – Adonis sex-god, built lean and tall and tanned. He'd have windswept hair and lovely azure-coloured eyes and a killer smile.

And then I could've had a whale of a time ogling his figure and, perhaps, letting my eyes stray a little lower.

Unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on which way you looked at it), the boy standing in front of me didn't.

Oh, he had muscles alright; lithe, sinewy veins that crept along his forearms, light ridges across his abdomen. He wasn't exactly pale, he was just much less tanned than I was; but then again, I did spend a lot of time on the beach, and this boy looked like he hardly left the house.

But all these little details, of course, were completely overshadowed by his outfit, or lack thereof. The yellow of his trunks was just so bright. And it was so tiny it looked like it was made for a kid.

And because of that, he seemed to be having a huge problem hiding his – uh, package, if his two hands shielding it from my eyes was any indication.

I stared at him for a brief moment, before raising my eyebrows. This was by far and large the most ridiculous thing I'd ever seen. I hardly knew whether to laugh in amusement or to cry because of how pathetic the situation was. It took a tremendous effort for me to keep a straight face.

"The bathroom's behind," I explained, for this happened fairly often. Occasionally, we'd see tourists who looked positively lost, entering our shack by accident and claiming they mistook it as the bathroom. "Go round this shack, and head back up the sidewalk – "

But then I trailed off as my eyes met his. The blue in his irises were an equal mix of embarrassment and frustration. The smile that was beginning to twitch its way across my lips was immediately wiped off when I realised that this situation was different. Clearly, he hadn't bargained for this.

Because no one in their right mind would wear that pair of shorts, ever. If you could even call it shorts in the first place.

"You alright?" I immediately wanted to slap myself for the pointlessness of my question. Of course he wasn't alright.

Nevertheless, his expression remained unchanging at my words. His jaw was clenched; an almost impassive look on his face like he was trying to pretend everything was okay.

Obviously, it wasn't.

"Can I hide in here for awhile?" he returned, but I could detect the panic he was trying to mask behind the roughness of his voice.

"Uh, sure," I said quickly, before dragging out a chair for him, making sure that I placed it in the far corner of the shack so he'd be hidden from clear view. He probably didn't want to be seen by anybody, least of all beach-goers who'd probably laugh for ages if they had a glimpse of him. "Have a seat."

The boy sat, making sure that his arms were folded over his lap. He looked thoroughly uncomfortable and awkward, and although I hardly knew him (well, actually, I didn't know him at all), I felt a pang of sympathy for him.

"Stay here," I instructed, before belatedly realising that it was a rather pointless thing to say, because where else was he going to go, really?

Ignoring my verbal slip, I headed over to the shelves, where dozens of new marine-blue towels were stacked. They were meant to be for sale, but I figured taking a few wouldn't matter much.