sehnsucht ✓

chapter 3

We're at the beach, and I'm strewn, laid on my front across a blanket, under the nice shade of an umbrella. His palm brushes lightly against my skin, as it moves up and down my back. The feeling is smooth, and gentle. I'm in a state of euphoria, shutting my eyes and trying to hold in my reaction. From bottling it up, my cheeks start to feel warm.

"Ma chèrie. L'amour de ma vie," his French accent, combined with his low voice hit the spot.

He does this to me. From the outline of his hands to the bluish tint of his eyes, which matched the clear beach waters, and the afternoon sky. The sound of waves rolling. It's captivating. It moves all my heart and soul.

I feel his touch dissipate and lose sense in feeling, and roll over to lie on my back, looking into his eyes as they reveal their true nature. Had the sun not been in the way, he'd be in the image of the sun, personifying his heart.

He looked so vulnerable. I wonder if he could ever understand the broken-ness I had. To relate to it the same. The kind when I thought I would never be his.

"I thought you thought I was invisible," my throat felt dry, and my eyes felt watery.

"Save me," I wanted to say. Right now, being a feminist and exercising individualism didn't matter. I was a teenager with hormones. I was craving. I felt desperate for boys, a boy, and I'm sorry if that's too racy of a message. There was a void in me that wanted to be satisfied.

"No, just the opposite. You may have been the girl I couldn't see, but not for the reason you're thinking," he takes my hand and laces his fingers through them, interlocking with me. Clasped together, they fit like two halves of a puzzle.

His eyes were a reassurance that I didn't need to cry, as he wipes a tear off my cheek. I get up and sit parallel to him, before suddenly rushing into his arms, resting my chin on his shoulder. I got comfortably in place as I climbed onto him amidst the barren shore, shifting my weight onto his lap. There was no one else in sight. It was just us.

The feeling that came next was exactly what I wanted. Everything felt right, and the empty space had been filled.

Although he was wearing contacts, he had his glasses handy in their case next to him. I grab the case and fish his glasses out, plopping them onto my face. He didn't protest, and instead had a smug grin on his face, snorting.

He adjusts them on the bridge of my nose until they stay snugly in place, then leaned in and gave me a peck on the cheek. Not so long ago I thought it was only fantasy to be treated like a queen, but then this moment came along.

It was a disaster for real life to come flowing back.

After realizing it was just a dream, I screamed, my voice flooding throughout the house like a banshee's.

I groaned, mentally slapping myself for imagining he was my everything. An experience that was so immersive and realistic that it haunted me how it didn't really exist. A boy I didn't know personally, if the real him was good. I placed this uncredible vision of him. I was scared for it to crumble if it didn't turn out to be true.

My mom burst into my room after, staring at me in horror. She looked tired, rubbing her eyes. The eyebags were apparent. How early was it?

"It's 4 in the morning. Are you okay, sweetie?" she asks in concern, though her expression had a trace of venom. "I just came from my flight a few hours ago, so I could really use the sleep," she adds with emphasis.

"I'm sorry, mom. Just a bad dream," my eyes were a little teary, from the dream and feeling sorry for the trouble I caused my family. My dad was an engineer and worked in town, so I saw him regularly. Meanwhile, my mom, an immigrant that came to the US when she was 12, was an overachiever which turned out well for her. After busting her ass off, she became a lawyer. And good at it.