My alarm goes off at 6:00 am on Monday morning, playing from across the room. I always make sure the alarm clock is placed far from me so that I'm forced to get up and stop it, but today I just let it ring. My ears become so used to the sound that I start to doze off again...
"Mariella, turn that Goddamn alarm off," my mom screams to me from downstairs. I groan, but do what she says and get up to turn the alarm off. I look at the blinking digits for a few seconds as my brain scrambled to remind me why I set a 6:00 am alarm on a random Monday in the summer.
"Oh!" I exclaim to no one in particular. I look at my pink duffle bag near my door and the (what I hope is) breezy beach outfit I left ready for morning-me last night. Road trip day.
I walk away from my alarm clock that now reads 6:15. I guess I really can sleep through anything, even for just a few extra minutes. The thought reminds me of Noah, and how he commented on what a heavy sleeper I am after our first overnight together. The memory makes me both sad and happy. Happy because it's a good memory, a perfect one really. Sad because that perfect feeling of truly being infatuated with someone seems really far away. But maybe that's normal for long term relationships. I wouldn't know, this being my first one.
I stare at myself in front of the mirror and assess the damage that needs to be fixed. Taking in my matted, dark hair and bright red cheeks, I sit down at my makeup counter and begin repairs.
I brush the rat's nest out of my hair and pull it up into a loose ponytail with the front two pieces hanging down. I start to apply my everyday makeup. Concealer, mascara, tinted brow gel, done. Today I decide to add a sparkly lip gloss, too. Lipgloss always reminds me of summer nights and beachy mornings. Probably from stealing my moms lipglosses out of her beach bag as a kid.
After accepting that my face is at its peak (a very shallow peak at that), I get dressed. Today I'm wearing a white tennis skirt with a light yellow, spaghetti strap tank top and my beloved baby blue platform flip flops. My feet slip into the customized indents that have formed to each toe from wearing them so much. I'm surprised they haven't fallen apart yet.
I check my phone and read a few messages from Noah.
NOAH: I'll miss not being at the beach house with you
NOAH: Bring me back a s'more from the bonfire
As I read the text, I realize that as much as I know we need to spend time together fixing whatever is feeling broken, I'm actually kinda relieved he's not coming. I can't deal with the stress of our relationship's difficulties while also trying to enjoy time with my friends. I look back down at the keyboard and type a quick response.
ME: I'll miss you not being there, too. Will bring back the worlds largest bucket of bonfire s'mores for you
It's easier to pretend nothing's wrong over text.
A little over an hour later, Ali arrives at my house. I hear her quickly say hello to my mom before she stomps up the stairs, taking two steps at a time. She appears in my open doorway and starts to say hello before I shush her and hold up a finger.
"I'm trying to remember if I've forgotten something. I feel like I'm missing something," I say. Ali knows how hard it is for me to concentrate when people are talking, so she walks across my room and plops herself on my bed. After maybe a full five seconds of me mumbling every toiletry known to mankind under my breath, Ali speaks.
YOU ARE READING
The Beach House
Romance--completed- Mariella looks forward to going to the beach house every single year. She's gone with her friends for as long as she can remember. The same people, the same house, the same summer feeling. But this year something's different: her boyfri...
