Reckless

Chapter 9

Reck·less (Adj) [ rékləss ] without thought of danger: marked by a lack of thought about danger or other possible undesirable consequences
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I hastily looked around for Quentin but no matter how many times I looked up and down the street, his silhouette never made shape. Panic slowly began to rise in my throat and quickly engulfed me. Suddenly, I was panting and a tear raced down my cheek. The salty drop of water left a scalding trail on my face before it dropped to the ground. I stared at the tiny circle on the concrete in between my feet. Although, despite my desire to stand and stare at it for hours, the hot sidewalk quickly dried it up in the mid afternoon heat.

In my flustered and clouded panic, my feet propelled me forward towards the beach where there were more toes than sand grains. I figured that if anyone decided to go anywhere remotely close, it would be there.

Quentin had to be there.

I ran to the sand but was immediately halted when my shoe was swallowed by the sand. I tried to put it back on but the sandals I was wearing flicked up sand and the grains stung my calves. I finally gave up on trying to walk in sandals and threw them to the side, making a mental note of where they were so I could retrieve them later on. I walked along the water to keep my feet cool while keeping an eye out for Quentin.

Well, I was more like fast walking without trying to look like a grandma while whipping my head around in search for a familiar suit. He had to stand out as the only person in a suit!

I walked along the beach for what felt like eternity. I watched the sun sink behind the waves and I watched the horizon swallow the last ray of sun before dropping to the ground and burying my head in my knees. One tear fell and then another followed. Before I knew it my skin was being burned by tears of anger and fear. I heard a voice yelling in the background, I heard a faint "Blaike" coming from behind. My body shot up straight and I looked around frantically for the origin of the voice. A silhouette started to take shape, which turned to a body, which turned into a familiar shape of shaggy hair and toned muscles. As soon as I recognized Quentin I raced towards him and embraced him tightly.

When I pulled away from him, my eyes found a round stain. I had been crying. But from what?

Relief?

Fear?

I concluded it was from the overwhelming comfort that came from having been found from my new friend.
"I got your shirt wet." I pointed to it and tried to wipe it up with minuscule success. Quentin just laughed and held both my shoulders and at arms length. His gorgeous green eyes bore into mine as he searched for a sign of any trauma. "I'm fine," I smiled up at him to prove it. "See?"

Quentin gave up but his gaze didn't depart from mine. Instead, his eyes turned soft and caring. "You scared me," he whispered and then pulled me back in. "You ready to head back home?" With sand in my hair and tears draining the moisture of my skin and my energy, I nodded and together we walked back to the hotel in comfortable silence.