Ladyfingers ✶ POPE HEYWARD

𝟐, three peas in a pod.

     IT HAD TAKEN Tabitha more than 24 hours to reach the Outerbanks. From nearly missing her eighteen hour flight, to having to wait four hours for her three hour drive — Tabitha was about to pass out from exhaustion. Her limbs were heavy and tired, her eyes drooping as her eyelashes fluttered and tickled her rosy red cheeks. Her bags were heavy on her back, the suitcase tight in her grasp slightly slipping due to the sweat that pooled in the palms of her blister-covered hands. The hard part of the journey was over, finally, now all Tabitha needed to do was find a place to rest her head for the night.

     Tabitha had passed plots with grand houses, decorated with large sculptures and fickle trees, the woodland trees were left in it's beautiful nature, the summer moon blinding through the swaying leaves and branches, almost attempting to catch sight of the young runaway in her blossoming nature. Tabitha could only assume she had deserted herself in the midst of rich snobs and stuck-up girls. God, she hoped no. So, Tabitha walked. And she walked until she no longer could, her legs dropping down onto the soft sand as the music of waves crashing into the rocks of the shoreline filled her head.

     She was falling fast asleep, her dark hair mixed in with the bright sand. Peace at las— is that barking?

     Tabitha pushed herself up, her head ringing with her eyes darting across the gloomy beach in search for anybody approaching.

     Bark.

     No, Tabitha was pretty sure this was no human approaching her, not with an axe to slash her head in her, or with a flashlight to see if she's alright, but a bloody dog. A bloody bulldog at that.

     Said bulldog was already pouncing towards her, it's tounge lolling out the side of its mouth as he snuffled and sneezed, it's paws marking the sand as it ran. Now Tabitha was panicking. In a rush, she snatched all of her things and loaded them into a pile that rested in her arms. Too late. The bulldog had already pounced on her and Tabitha assumed that this is where she dies—

     The bulldog, however, has other ideas.

     "Oi—" she protested, attempting to push the heavy dog off of her. "—Please stop licking me!" the bulldog did not stop, and continued to lick her face happily.

     "—I think i'm going to yack my guts up..." Tabitha mumbled after the dog had tumbled off her, watching her with a toothy grin.

     She grabbed her luggage and turned to face the dog, who was watching her with curiosity. Slowly, Tabitha walked backwards, keeping an eye on the bulldog so it doesn't follow her to possibly murder her in her restless slumber.

     Plot twist, good Lord. The bulldog ran towards her, panting and huffing as it did so, and came to a halt beside her.

     "Right then—" she paused, "—Cyril, that's ya' new name. . . alright?"

     The dog merely sneezed.

     Nodding with a deep sigh, Tabitha plopped herself backdown and began to settle down. Perhaps now Tabitha could have a little rest before continuing her journey—

     "Uh—Hey?!"

     "Oh for fucks sake!" Tabitha grunted, slamming her head back down onto the sand.

     Her comment going seemingly unheard, the unknown boy continued to call her. "Hello? Are you okay, miss?!"

     With tired eyes, Tabitha looked over at him. It was dark, the midnight moon was gleaming bright and the stars barely illuminated his tall silhouette, but by the dim flicker of his torch, Tabitha could picture an inaccurate image in her head.

     Building up a sudden urge of confidence, Tabitha found her voice to reply. "No."

     Clearly dumbfounded by her foreign accent and blunt reply, he called back; "Do you need any help."

     "I don't know."

     "You—You don't know?" Tabitha could now hear his footsteps draw nearer.

     "Yes you twat, I said I don't know." she retorted, too tired to control her tounge.

     "Hi." the unknown boy appeared infront of her, his torch flickering in her eyes. He was tall and lanky, his hair was dark and somewhat reminded her of her own brothers hair — however, his was much longer, reaching to just under his ears. His freckled face held a kind smile, welcoming and warm; and his eyes were brown like the earths soil with amber rays sparkling throughout. Tabitha knew she could trust him.

     "I'm John B." he held out his hand in offer to help her up, which she gratefully took.

     "Tabitha," his eyes diverted to the sitting dog, "and Cyril."

     "So... you good? You seem quite... lost." he struggled to find what words to stay, stumbling and mumbling until he could process a proper sentence.

     "No." she answered shortly. "I'm homeless."

     An awkward silence diverted, the panting of chubby Cyril between the two of them.

     "I have—I have a spare room, if you want to stay the—"

     "Yes, please." Tabitha interrupted, her eyes diverted down awkwardly but her face showing a sweet smile.

     John B nodded, bending down to pick up her bags, "I can carry them, no bother really."

    "Don't worry." he pulled himself back up and smiled brightly.

     The two walked silently throughout the small journey, Tabitha attempting to keep up with his long strides aswell as checking up on lousy Cyril that trudged behind them. Finally, they appeared at some sort of shack. Tabitha knew her dad would have her head for even stepping foot towards a shack so dirty and rickety, but Richard wasn't here, so for all she cared, Richard can go fuck himself.

     Opening the lights, John B spun around to face Tabitha will a lopsided grin. "Not much, but it's home."

     "That was cheesy, but it's bloody brilliant, really, you're a gem." said Tabitha with a dazzling smile.

     "Yeah, I'm a gem...?" he cleared his throat and guided her towards the spare room, placing down her heavy bags in the floor.

     "Here you go, the bathroom is just over there—" he pointed down the corridor, "—and if you need anything else, my room is right there!"

     "Thank you, honestly you're a real one." John B, clearly confused by her foreign words, simply nodded.

     "So, i'll leave you to it and see you in the morning." he gently closed the door, leaving Tabitha to her tired thoughts.

     By morning Tabitha may not even remember his name, nor the dog that now had huddled himself on the covers, but she would most certainly wake up with a fright, because it's not long until somebody notices she's dissapeared from home.