rubie
I showered for an extensive amount of time immediately after returning to my house, after which I put on fresh clothes, a white cotton lace sundress, and went for a walk. Thirty two seconds after I left, I decided where I ought to go. I would go to The Cove, a tiny beach about twenty minutes on foot from my house that few know of, and fewer actually go to. This doesn't surprise me- significant climbing ability or a four-wheel drive is required to get past the hoards of malicious dunes. But it’s worth it. I promise, it’s worth it.
The entire beach is surrounded by rock except for a gap only a few meters wide, which leads straight out to sea. The water is a colour you’d see on a postcard of the Greek islands, like molten, clear turquoise. As I neared, I abandoned my walk and ran the remaining distance, stripping off my clothes as I ran, purely so I could dive into the water and feel the relief of the sea. And, oh it was a relief. The water was warm, the temperature of rain on a humid day, and refreshing all the same. I laughed to myself, and reveled in the silence, the seclusion, and the clear water. I was grinning and dove beneath the water, seeing an endless plain of ridged seawater.
Not long enough later, I climbed back over the dunes, turned some corners and ended up on my favourite street. I live in a satellite city on the coast, filled with hipsters, stoners and surfers. Bonbeach Pass. It’s not big with tourists because it isn’t famous, but we have a population of almost half a million. Despite the fact I am neither a hipster, stoner nor surfer, I love it here. My favourite street is called Penny Lane. Actually. Our city is new, so no doubt it was named after the Beatles song, not the other way around. Unfortunately. I walked down Penny Lane, past the skateboarders and people hurling surfboards. I made a random left, a left that was almost instinctual, and walked beneath a sign.
The sign read: The Paperback Pineapple in gold, typewriter print, and below that, in italics, Stranger Things Are Happening. The Paperback Pineapple is my favourite café. Ever. The baristas tell you some random fact every time you go there- meaning I’ve gotten to know a lotof random facts. I’m not exactly sure about the ‘stranger things are happening’… but I do know I like the phrase. After I walked in, I ordered my favourite juice and resumed my favourite seat, a blue peacock chair near the sea-facing window. Towers of books are scattered throughout the room, and I pulled a volume towards me: Textile Design and its Roots in Pop Art. Turns out, it was just filled with photos of fabric, which I didn't mind. I was staring at a dress fabric called Cloud Eight, which had clouds repeating over and over again in a spiral pattern, when my pineapple juice came. “Order for Rubie?” I barely looked up and then realized I hadn’t gotten my random fact yet. I forced my eyes off Cloud Eight and was rewarded by possibly every girl-meets-hot-barista-at-cafe cliché ever. The first thing I noticed was his eyes. They were blue, but not piercing- that rare shade which doesn't seem to x-ray you, but more see only the best parts of you. They had these amber flecks in them that reminded me of raw turquoise. Second thing I noticed was… everything else. Skin that seemed like sunshine was trapped underneath- tanned and golden. A prominent jaw that framed a smile possibly more radiant than his skin (if that’s even possible). I searched for his name badge. Of course he wasn't wearing one. He handed me my juice. I raised my eyebrows, gesturing for my fact. He said, “Today’s fact is that you are definitely the most attractive person in this room.” I’m pretty sure I stopped breathing. I am not the type that gushes over boys and I tend to brush off compliments.
“I demand a refund. Today’s fact is very much not a fact,” I said, looking across the room at two girls my own age, shaking their blonde hair over their shoulders and wearing approximately less clothing than required for a three year old.
“Fact, noun,” he said, “Something in which one knows to be true.”
“As if you’re smart, too,” I said, more to myself than anything.
“In light of this,” he continued, “Today’s fact is exactly that. This, in addition to your displayed intelligence, which is high, leads me to ask you a very important question.”
“And what’s that?” I asked, enjoying this way too much. Since when do I like talking to people?
He flashed that smile again. “What’s your number?”
I didn't reply and simply took a long sip of my juice. By now, he was sitting on my footrest.
“Why should I give my number to someone who I know nothing about?” I said, smiling.
“Fine then. My name is Finn Blackie. I’m eighteen and I like to paddleboard. Enough?” He bared that damn smile again. This wasn't going anywhere.
“Meet me at The Cove tonight, when the sun goes down. If you don't know where that is, too bad. If you do, I’ll give you my number then.” There.
He simply smiled, which annoyed me. “See you tonight.” Finn got up and walked to the counter, where he busied himself.
Like everyone, he got on my nerves. But less than a normal human being. That had to be a good thing.
