Synonyms for Oasis | original fiction

The Day I Turned Seventeen

"Welcome to McLaren's. Can I help you find anything today?"

The woman behind the register deadpanned, not looking up from her magazine as she spoke. Her long, pastel-blue hair was piled up in a bun on top of her head, a few loose strands falling down around her face.

"Um, n-no, thanks."

The woman's eyes flickered up for the briefest of moments, appraising Roxy with mild interest. Roxy felt her face flush bright red and turned away, scampering behind a display of souvenirs. She was filled with a burning regret at her lack of prudence in deciding to shop for her groceries at the April Cove general store, rather than the actual grocery store thirty miles east.

Feverishly, she piled a bag of saltwater taffy and box of steel-cut oatmeal in her cart. She wasn't in the mood to loiter around the store for too long, not with the rapt interest that had flashed in the stare the clerk had fixed her with. The tornado sirens in her brain were howling their death kneel as she pretended to examine a can of tomato soup. There was no way the clerk could have recognized her. After the video taken on the night David beat her senseless circulated through campus she had changed her appearance drastically. Had it been enough? She had dyed her naturally dark hair a buttery shade of strawberry blonde and lost fifteen pounds, a byproduct of the post-traumatic stress. To her own eyes, she looked wildly different from the girl in the video, bleeding and battered beyond recognition.

The video hadn't even been viral. It had circulated through the student body of Iprarie University quickly, but it couldn't have amassed more than a couple hundred views before it was taken down.

Roxy busied herself with loading her cart full of canned peaches and granola bars, trying to ignore the gnawing panic in her stomach. No, there was no way the clerk had seen the video, Roxy tried to convince herself. It was just paranoia.

Despite her best efforts, she couldn't quite disabuse herself of the notion that something was off about the way the woman had looked at her. Steeling herself, she made her way back towards the counter to check out. A few months ago, she would've merely dropped her cart and sprinted home at the prospect of being recognized from the video. At least there had been some progress.

To Roxy's relief, the girl with the purple hair didn't try to engage her in any conversation as she rang up Roxy's items.

"That'll be $19.99."

Roxy fished through her pockets, counting and forking over a twenty dollar bill. The woman, Roxy could see her name tag clearly now, Lexi, extracted a penny from the register and bagged the items. She offered Roxy the bag and the lone coin with an arch of her brow.

"Have a nice day." She didn't quite smile, but there was the hint of a smirk in the corners of her cherry-red lips. Roxy nodded curtly, grabbing her bag and penny and turning away quickly.

There was something in that woman's sharp gaze that made her skin prickle. A thinly-veiled yet incredibly indecipherable intensity burning behind her stoic stare, simmering just below the surface.

The longer Roxy lingered on that crafty smile, the more suffocating her obfuscation became. She hadn't been able to properly read the woman, not really. It was wrong to assume that the clerk had recognized her from the video, the chances of such a coincidence were miniscule. Practically nonexistent.

As she walked, she kept her gaze glued to the ground, trying not to marinate in the terror that had begun to rise and seep through her body like ice. There was nothing more imminently dangerous to her new life than the prospect that someone here had recognized her from the video. The whole reason she had moved out here in the first place was to escape that past. Could the world really be so cruel as to allow the events that had transpired that night in the back seat of David Cambridge's car to haunt her here, too?

"HEY, BLONDIE. YOU OKAY?"

Roxy froze, her eyes flashing as she cast her gaze upwards. Not more than five feet in front of her sat a young man, legs dangling over the edge of the trundle bridge. He was beaming at her, an eyebrow cocked. Roxy squinted. His eyes were odd, mismatching in color. He was certainly attractive all the same, but it caught her off guard. His tanned and handsome face was dotted with freckles. Roxy felt her heart leap into her throat, but held her ground.

"YOU LOOK LIKE YOU'VE SEEN A GHOST!" He expounded, nearly shouting despite the fact that he was no more than fifteen feet away from her. Something about his voice reminded Roxy of an old-timey movie star, with his playful timbre and slight transatlantic accent.

His words were genuine, not in the least solicitous, yet a tremor of anxiety still ebbed at her as he pulled himself to his feet.

"I'm fine." Despite her hammering heart, her voice sounded mild and flat, a fact for which she was immensely thankful.

The man gave her a searching look, picking her apart with his sharp stare. She met his stare, unblinking. As he strolled closer, Roxy couldn't help but stare at his eyes. One was a light grey, the other a deep green.

Seeming to notice her piqued curiosity, he grimaced, gesturing towards his patch.

"Heterochromia." He explained solemnly. Roxy swallowed hard, wrenching her gaze away from his face as color heated her cheeks. She hadn't meant to stare, but his appearance was so undeniably striking she simply couldn't help herself.

"The name's Levi. You must be the new girl everyone's all worked up about, huh?" He beamed at her, his crystal-white teeth sparkling under the fresh spring sunlight. The man extended his hand. Against her better judgement, Roxy shook it.

Pins and needles erupted through her hand and up her arm almost instantaneously. His grip wasn't particularly crushing, but something about his touch was electrifying. Roxy gasped, ripping her hand from his grip and holding it against her chest. She stared down at her unscathed palm for a moment before allowing her gaze to flicker back up to Levi's face.

He frowned at her, seemingly nonplussed by her visceral reaction to his touch. She attempted to recover, offering him a shaky laugh and letting her hand fall to her side. The prickly tingle in her bones wasn't abating, but she forced herself to ignore the unpleasant sensation and speak again.

"I'm fine." She rejoined, responding to the unspoken question in his worried gaze. He nodded, still looking slightly uneasy, and jammed his hands into the pockets of his khaki pant pockets. Despite his actions, she couldn't rid herself of the feeling that he was perfectly aware of the effect his touch had inflicted on her. The way he had searched her face, furtive and seeking.

Should she be suspicious of him too? Perhaps she should be. It seemed all so very silly, but the poignant instinct ran through her veins and cut through the warm butterflies in her stomach nonetheless. He was undeniably magnetic, but something about the needles and pins rubbed her the wrong way.

"I should get going home. My, um, groceries and all." Roxy gestured towards her bag with a sheepish smile, praying that the disquiet in her heart wouldn't be apparent to Levi. To her relief, he only grinned wolfishly at her and nodded.

"Of course. Sorry to keep you, doll." He narrowed his eyes, his grin stretching even wider across his face.

"We'll meet again."

It wasn't a question, but rather a promise. The statement struck Roxy as slightly strange, but she tried to push her suspicions aside. There was nothing overtly predatory about him, on the contrary, everything about him was painfully charming. Yet...

The voice of reason interjected within her, reminding her that she was chary of most new strangers she encountered. He hadn't done anything to warrant this inexplicable weariness, neither had the clerk at McLaren's. She tried to convince herself that her fretfulness was merely a vestigial byproduct of David's abuse, but as per usual, the affirmation carried no real conviction.

As she made her way down the valley road, she shot one last look over her shoulder. He had retreated to his spot on the edge of the bridge, his legs dangling over the side and swinging slightly, his head turned to watch her go. He didn't look away, even upon her gaze meeting his, he only offered her that impish smirk and one last little wave.