Twenty-Seven: Private Beach

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At 8:30 AM I woke prepared for a day at the beach with Kellan. Drinks, sandwiches, and snacks fill a cooler. In a beach bag I gathered a blanket, towels and several bottles of sunscreen. Kellan's English skin looks like it could burn too easily.

Around 11:00, I add a little ice to the cooler and wonder why Kellan is so late.

2:30 rolls around and I am thoroughly angry with myself for watching every car that drives past.

"Mom, I'm going to the beach without him. If he shows up, tell him I'll be by the pier." I'm mad as hell when I exit the house, leaving the cooler behind.

Another long hour passes and I wait, alone.

Some guys invite me to play a game of Volleyball with them and instead of sitting around and feeling sorry for myself, I take them up on their offer. Raleigh, my partner, is a tall, blonde haired, blue eyed, incredibly fit, twenty-something. He's flirting with me and I'm playing along, trying to feel better.

"Would you like to go with me to get a drink?" Raleigh asks, after our final game. "I owe you something for saving me from an afternoon of boredom."

"Gillian?" says a British accent from behind my right shoulder. Jumping back, I turn to see Kellan standing about ten feet away. He has on jeans and a T-shirt, not beach clothes. It seems like he really did not have plans for the beach today; it pisses me off. I turn back to Raleigh, intending to take him up on his offer for a drink.

Raleigh is looking at Kellan with wide eyes, "Hey man, aren't you in Mayhem?"

Great!

"Yeah, man. I'm Kellan Garrighan, nice to meet you," Kellan says holding out his hand.

Charismatic fucking jerk!

"Hey, guys, it's that Kellan dude from Mayhem," he yells to his friends.

As Kellan passes me to greet my volleyball players, I turn and stomp back toward my belongings laid out on the beach. I have zero interest in watching the guys fawn over Kellan's stardom.

Passing my towel, I cross to the surf and soak my feet in the warm water.

"I'm sorry," Kellan says from behind me. Moving some sand with my foot, I ignore him. "I'm really sorry Gillian."

"Leave," my voice surprises both of us.

"No," he says, and he moves closer to me, soaking his shoes and ankles of his jeans.

"You are not dressed for the beach and our date is over. You missed it. Leave." I pick up a shell and tossing it in the ocean.

"Gillian, I did not fall asleep until five this morning. I woke up at three. I did not mean to miss this," he says.

Seriously, that's his excuse? I do not look at him.

"Kellan, I've been going through a lot lately, with...Phil, and Tristan, and...A..."I stop myself and shake my head, "I just want to you to leave me alone. I don't have any emotional energy left to expel. It's another reason I left last night. All your groupie drama was too much. I don't need it." I throw another shell into the water.

"We will talk about this. I have something for you," he says.

We'll talk about this? Is he telling me? I almost laugh at the idea of it. My jaw clenches, restraining myself from saying regretful words.

Turning, I look at him. My budding anger is making him less attractive. I think about what my counselor said about attraction only going as far as a man's personality. When I look at him right now, all I can see is a young band boy, who sleeps with groupies and parties all night. Of course I saw this from the start, but he convinced me that he was more. It seems we've come full circle.

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