Beach

aide + eli

«letters and returns by troubhle»

one of my favourite fictional couples to date (also happens to be created by one of my nicest friends). nick may now step out of the picture and into my arms. cheerio. adios, muchachoritos; he’s mine.

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He first saw her in a white dress that clung snugly onto her hips and ended just above her knees. She held a bouquet of white daisies in her hands, holding it to her chest and waiting for her signal. Her hair was tied up in a braid and God, she looked beautiful. Her eyes skirted around the venue of white tents and tables, paper lanterns and golden sand, and dozens of people anxiously waiting for the bride and groom. He made a run for it when her gaze fell onto his.

        He wasn’t meant to be there, anyway. However, even as he paddled metres away from the shore, he could not help but think of the way she looked when the afternoon sun did not glare on her face like it would on his. The sunlight shone, and so did she. And when he finished falling hard from his third wave, he still could not stop thinking of her. His older friends had said, “You’re not yourself today, man. What’s up?” He wanted so bad to gush about the girl he saw at the wedding on the beach, but he knew he’d be called silly, fascinating about someone he’d probably never see again.

        He’d done that too many times already. He could almost hear the words, you’d hurt yourself again, Eli, coming out of his friends’ mouths. Painfully, he had to admit that they were right. If only he was ever sensible enough to listen.

The first time she saw him was when she’d hauled her bags out of her mom’s car and he walked past the mountain of luggage she had to bring along for the wedding. His laughter caught her attention—a kind of laughter she knew she would never get tired of hearing if she had the choice. She saw a mass of light brown hair atop his head and sturdy, long, tanned arms carrying up a surfboard in a sea of other boys with bigger bodies and deeper-toned laughter.

        He turned around to face one of his friends and she looked away as quick as lightning. She felt her cheeks warm and her breath begin to shake, but it was just the humidity in the air. That’s all it was.

He saw her again that same night. He hung around with his friends for a couple of drinks when the first lantern was lit up and flown to the sky.

        It was a tradition at Carter Beach, the sandy shores where people apparently liked to tie the knot with each other for the rest of their lives and make their vows. Every wedding done at Carter required paper lanterns flown into the high-tides of the evening, it made everything feel special and the locals claimed that the farther the couple’s lantern goes, the longer their love lasts. (Eli thought it was pretentious, but what was love without any history and hard-to-believe-beliefs?)

        She held an unlit lantern and her hair had fallen out of its plait. By this time, Eli’s friends were probably too drunk or tired to care where he was going. They’d all spent the day out in the water, they were all probably too caught up in all the waves they were able to conquer (and all the waves Eli couldn’t concentrate on). Before he could even comprehend what he was doing, he was heading for her, an excuse to give her some ‘friendly-local-help.’

        The world seemed to be at his side today: she kept walking and so did he. She was going towards some place quiet and deserted, he planned to meet her halfway as she concentrated on trying to get the paper lantern sorted out. He cleared his throat, “Need some help?”