this just can't be summer love (you'll see) | chaennie

IV

The sun is barely out in the sky when she gets up from her bed.

She never really needed an alarm; her biological clock just seemed to work in sync with the time in Hawaii, which turned out to be quite inconvenient when she was back in Korea and on a whole different time zone, because it often meant that she was wide awake when she should be sleeping.

For over a month after summer, when she went back, her sleeping pattern would be terribly messed up. Omoni sometimes took other foster kids and they would often bully Jennie, calling her a vampire because she’d be up all night and then sleep most of the day. When she was little, she tried to explain that her body was used to a different time zone, but kids were ruthless in their teasing and eventually she stopped saying anything at all, instead keeping to herself and cutting off any interaction whatsoever.

Eventually, they all left her alone.

But that never really bothered her; uncreative insults and petty arguments flew right past her head when she focused on the one thing that really mattered, the only thing that made sense in her mind after her parents died and took with them everything she knew except one thing.

It didn’t matter what life threw at her, because Jennie knew she’d always have the ocean.

It’s why she likes waking up early. She leads a good life now, she can’t deny that, but nothing really makes sense if she doesn’t start her day with her surfboard, cutting through waves as the sun washes her skin.

(It’s a small blessing that North Shore’s best waves happen during winter.)

She’s pulling off her wetsuit when her eyes focus on a small figure sitting on the sand, waving excitedly at her.

Try as she might, Jennie can’t keep the smile that breaks on her face. It’s a new feeling, to smile so freely and so easily, but she can’t say that it’s one that bothers her terribly. In truth, Roseanne reminds her of happier, easier times. Times filled with love and laughter, when the only thing she had to worry about was her parents saying it was time to get out of the water and do something else.

Jennie never thought she’d ever feel like that again, but maybe she’s been wrong.

“Cupcake,” she greets, and she can’t decide if she wants to smirk or grin at the sight in front of her, so her lips just twist in a stranger mixture of both, “That’s early for you, isn’t it?”

There’s something about Roseanne that just draws her in. She’s always a ball of sunshine, Jennie has come to expect that from her, but today there’s something about her that just shines brighter than usual, as if all this time Jennie has known Roseanne, something has been blocking her light, but now, whatever that something was, it’s completely gone.

Roseanne’s lips split in a grin so bright that Jennie is surprised it doesn’t blind her, “I told you I’d be here.”

“Yeah,” Jennie agrees and she takes a sit in front of her, letting her sand-covered feet touch Roseanne’s, “But that was over two weeks ago and I honestly didn’t think you had it in you. No offense, cutie.”

“None taken,” she says, leaning forward and booping her forehead against Jennie’s. “You were amazing out there.”

Jennie isn’t shy by any means, and usually a compliment from someone would have her reassuring them that - yes, she’s that good. That doesn’t happen with Roseanne, though. Which shouldn’t come as a surprise, really, because the person she is with Roseanne is a person she didn’t think she was capable of being anymore, but it seems the other girl is intent on proving her wrong.

“That was nothing,” she waves her hand, trying to brush off the compliment.

Roseanne isn’t having none of it, “Come on,” she pokes Jennie’s neoprene-clad thigh. “Kirsch was right. And so was his mom.”