le bonheur de vivre

16

The feeling of being taken.

"May we go swimming instead?" Elodie queried, forcefully, mesmerised by the glisten of the sea below. "I know I said we should pla-"

"Oh don't worry," Garret replied swiftly. "I'll just change into my trunks if that's okay. Do you have a swimsuit?"

"I'll wear my underwear."

""Are you sure? I'm sure I'll have an old swimsuit of yours lying around?"

"I'll change if you can find one," she responded,  sitting herself down on his bed. A familiar bed. Garret shuffled around the room awkwardly as he searched through his chest to find his trunks, and after a while he pulled out one of her swimsuits as well. She mustn't have worn it in at least a year, but it would still fit. Wine-coloured. Luxurious, refreshing. Youthful. It reminded her of days spent with him.

"Found one," he proclaimed, handing it to her in a triumphant manner. "Hope it still fits." He paused for a moment, watching her watch him. "Do you want to get changed first?"

"Sure," Elodie replied, raising herself of the bed. "Is the lock still broken?"

The lock on his bathroom was broken. He had used it to his advantage once. When he first kissed her. She was getting changed when he did it. Perhaps when she was getting changed into the very swimsuit. He opened the door and stood with her, and embraced her. He got two in one that day. Breasts and a kiss!

"Yes."

"Alrighty then."

She left him in his bedroom as she left into the bathroom, hoping to god he wouldn't do anything stupid. Like opening the door.

Stripping in his house felt oddly pleasant. Feeling the wind on her breasts. On her stomach. Exposed, in the most private of ways. But her swimsuit was on before even the sun caressed her back. She was not leaving time to swindle her again, to tempt the poor boy into her grasp.

He had been well behaved. He had sat on his bed patiently the whole time while she changed. He understood her now. He understood his place now. Alas, how she hoped he did.

Looking at her in that swimsuit allowed the past to creep so awfully into his head. And it hurt him. It dug it's nails into its retinas, and ran its fingertips along the curve of his pelvis like she used to. Oh, he could remember that feeling alright.

He shook his head free and led himself to the bathroom. Looking in the mirror he reminded himself of everything he knew and ought to know. Then he stripped. He must have been quicker than Elodie, for his trunks were on in a flash.

When he entered his room again he saw that Elodie had already left. He could hear her on the driveway, her bare feet rumbling against the rocks. Sprinting down the hallway after her, he left his shoes at the door. Shoes were for the weak.

He caught up to her in mad dash, hopping across the rocks that steamed under the afternoon light. A goat bleated in the trees beside his house, shocked and vexed at his sudden movement. But Garret enjoyed it. Elodie made him move. Want to move.

"How long has it been?"

She looked up at him.

"Since when?"

He fiddled with his fingers behind his back, as she pranced, similarly to a mountain goat, down the rocky path to the beach.

"Since you went swimming with me here."

He was poetic in his little tragedy.

"Must have been a couple of months, no?"

"Yeah," he murmured. "Do you miss it?"

"Sure," she laughed. He always seemed a little sad around her. "I won't ask you the same."

He chuckled.

"You know the answer too well."

The view of the beach suddenly exploded as the trees parted, the blues dissolving further and further into the greenery. It shimmered, it really did, like the smile across her face. It shone, like her.

It dragged her towards it with such a force she didn't know. She began running, sprinting, screaming, laughing, as if something had overcome her. And something had. It felt so wonderful. So nostalgic. She kept running as the cool cool water splashed up onto her feet, until it was so thick that she fell into it and sighed. Glorious.

The sea was glorious. Blue, blue. Surrounding, controlling, grasping her, pulling her. She fell to her knees for it, as they grazed the sand and it swarmed around her.

Garret followed, but much slower, edging as he felt the coolness on his calves, and finally plunging, albeit awkwardly, into the water.

Ecstasy it was.

She giggled with him, played with him, as if they were children again. They swam, then ran, up and down the beach, at least six times, then up the hill and back to his house, as he watched her, soaking, and he delighted in her presence, and they played board games and ate unhealthy food together, as if it was the old days, and played into the night, played cards, and she always won, and listened to his records, and fell asleep in his bed.

She fell asleep in his bed, half not meaning to, but wanting to. Knowing she felt drowsy she didn't remove herself, but allowed the bed to take her into her dreams.

Garret, seeing her there, didn't wake her.

Nor did he join her.

He sat on the floor and watched her. He fell asleep on the floor watching her. It seemed enough to have her in his bed.

He didn't need to have her in his arms.