Game Theory × NH

069 | thulium

What Lynn was wearing was rather distracting. She had come out of her room in a tiny little white two piece with only a cream knitted cardigan over the top, like that was going to do much skin covering. And I knew that it wasn't doing its job because I found myself looking at Lynn's tanned legs and up to her shoulder where the cardigan had slipped down. Her caramel hair was in beach waves and split down the middle in messy pigtails, loose strands sticking to her full lips as the wind blew through the rolled down windows.

Then I looked down at my own choice of clothing. Jean shorts and a white V-neck with the sleeves cuffed along with a pair of trainers. It was rather boring, but in my defense I didn't exactly pack to go to the beach. At least I wore my hair different. I didn't bother with the typical up-do and instead just let it fall naturally. It had begun to get long, so I was starting to regret that decision as some pieces fell into my eyes.

We continued our way down the roads of LA with all the windows down. I saw mountains in the distance surrounding the city, roads lined with palm trees and bordered by the Pacific Ocean. 7-Eleven's were on every corner and people wearing tank tops and shorts were milling around even though it was the middle of December. The sun was high and bright, reminding me why California never gets any snow.

Twenty minutes later we were out of the jeep and walking toward the beach. Lynn had her surfboard under her arm as she walked beside me. I carried her heavy drawstring UCLA bag that held all her equipment.

"Santa Monica Beach," Lynn said the second our bare feet touched the sand. With every step we took, the sand shifted underneath us, the fine grains giving me warmth from the sun's rays. "During the summer I practically lived here. My friends and I would kick around a soccer ball or have bonfires. More than once I woke up on the sand from a long night out."

The ocean waves rolled in white ripples, spreading themselves over the beach after they crash against the shore. Every hundred feet stood lifeguard stands, the guards either standing out front or sitting in a wooden chair, looking out at the ocean with watchful eyes. In the distance I could see the pier; a large roller-coaster and a Ferris wheel were the two biggest attractions that stood out through the fog.

"This heat is rare in December," Lynn spoke up, looking around to find a clear spot on the sand. "On average it's in the sixties, but not the lower eighties. That's spring weather here."

Lynn dropped her surfboard on the sand and crossed her arms, looking out at the ocean like lost memories were resurfacing. She seemed to glow under the hot rays, her skin resembled smooth honey. My self-control out the window, I reached toward her and brushed away a strand of hair from her face.

"It's hot because you're here," I teased.

"Ha-ha," she said sarcastically and took my hand away from her face, but not before I saw the trail of goosebumps up her neck and arms. "Hand me my bag, please," she said and reached out for the drawstring in my hands. I handed it to her as she sat down on the beach and dug through the contents.

I sat down beside her. "How come I never knew that you surfed?"

The first thing she took out looked like a white hockey puck, and then followed by an oddly shaped comb. "It never came up in conversation," she simply stated.

A pair of swim shorts, something that resembled a dog leash, and a black traction pad later, the bag was left with only snacks and water bottles inside.

"You seem to surf a lot," I said. "I'm sure it would have come up at some point."

Lynn grabbed the thing that resembled a hockey puck and started unwrapping it. "Like you said before, Niall, there's a lot you don't know about me."