𝙈𝙀𝘿𝘿𝙇𝙄𝙉𝙂 𝙆𝙄𝘿𝙎━━━ 𝘖𝘉𝘟!

𝘫𝘰𝘩𝘯 𝘣 (𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘰𝘯𝘦)

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𝗦𝗬𝗡𝗣𝗢𝗦𝗜𝗦(𝗦);
❝𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐝.❞

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word count; 2648

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"Hey!"

"Hi!"

"Your really pretty."

I nearly choked on my beer, but regained my composure and replied, "Thank you. You're not too bad yourself."

The cold liquid from my cup slid down my throat, sending a cooling sensation throughout my insides, making my sense of awareness a little fuzzy.

The brunette held eye contact with me until he got sick of the silence, "You know, I've never seen you around here before."

It made sense, I was only visiting family for the summer. But I didn't say that. "I can say the same for you."

He nodded, a few curls falling over chocolate eyes like curtains, his dark features contrasted with his brightly patterned shirt very well.

I only realized I had been staring too long when he broke the silence again, "I'll be seeing you around then?"

I shrugged, "Maybe."

A heart-melting grin spread across his lips, "Cool. Can I get your number?"

I snagged a marker set out for writing your name on a cup and clutched his wrist in my other hand. Pulling off the cap with my mouth and keeping it secure in-between my teeth.

'Pretty Girl From The Beach'
(xxx)-xxx-xxxx

He looked a bit shocked when I pulled away, but flashed me one of those dangerously good-looking smiles.

I tugged my bottom lip between my teeth, "What's your name?"

"My friends call me John B. What's yours?" He countered.

"That's for another time. I'll see you around John B," I capped the marker and tossed it on the table, unnecessarily swinging my hips a little extra as I walked away.

That was the night that started all of this. For the first few days, all it was, was a little pleasure fire, phone calls for hours, texting all the time, constant flirting, the whole sha-bang.

The sun was warm, and my ice cream was cold. Butterflies erupting inside of my stomach kept the ice cream from freezing my organs.

He was staring. Right at me.

He had this new look, a goofy grin accompanied by curious eyes.

I giggled, wiping the corners of my mouth subconsciously, "What? Do I have ice cream on my face?"

He shook his head, "Vanilla bean. Out of that entire shop, you choose vanilla bean."

My eyebrows knit together, "What's wrong with that?"

"Nothing," he paused, debating if what he would say next would end in his murder, "It's just so...basic," and he chose death.

I scoffed, "Hey, I could have been really basic and gone with plain vanilla."