And Now A Piece Of Me Is A Piece Of The Beach || larry stylinson

2

Harry hissed as the freezing water hit his skin. His body was already pinked by the hand of the waves, and the ice cold droplets only added to the rawness. He winced as he dipped his head underneath the flowing showerhead, a transparent blanket being draped over his mop of hair. The bitterly cold water scalded his skin as he shook a hand through his hair, trying to rid of some of the excess sea salt and whatever else that had taken shelter in between the tats and knots.

Once most of the scum was washed off his upper body, he stumbled back to his van. The cold was biting his skin with fierce, sharp teeth and the muscles in his arms were straining with tiredness as he hauled his surfboard along with him. He propped it up against the side of the van before jogging over and turning on the hose rolled up at the back of the shop. He washed down his board and peeled off his wetsuit, jumping awkwardly as he tried to pull each leg off his ankle. Rings were imprinted on his skin, dashes of dark red left where the thread dug into his skin. It was like a numb bracelet that wrapped around his ankle, a reminder of the way the frozen sea spiked little needles around his feet until he could hardly feel them anymore.

Harry’s stomach growled as he dried himself off and changed into his clothes. The black skinny jeans suffocated his thighs, the thinnest forcefield of warmth separating his pinked skin and the material of the jeans. His t-shirt was scrappy and he was pretty sure that there was a hole in it somewhere, but it matched his untamed hair so he did not see the point in changing. Finally, his appearance was acceptable to be seen in normal civilisation, apart from his worn skin and tired eyes. He could almost feel the drag that the bags under his eyes caused, almost see with dulled glasses through his exhausted green eyes. Harry would have dug under his mattress for that small baggy which would at least brighten his appearance, even just in slight, but with his destination holding a young girl he held very dear to his heart, Harry would never risk it. Instead, he lit up a tab and willed it to cloud his lungs with a little dose of energy, at least.

Deciding to just try the old fashioned method of slapping his cheeks a few times to give him some colour, Harry put and intentional spring in his step as he followed his stomach’s ever growing protests. He watched the stragglers departing from the beach as he made his way down to Crusoe’s. Not many people were left, just the odd jogger or couple traipsing over the sand, hand in hand. What was with that, anyway? It was not like the blonde girl was dainty enough to be swept away, or young enough to not know that she should not go into the bitter sea at this time of night. Harry shook his head discreetly to himself; he would never understand.

The small building was lit up but barely occupied. The ‘open’ sign was swung around to the counter of the displays and no customers were scattered throughout the setup. The plastic chairs that were dotted around the tables outside were not to be seen, hidden away behind the shop ostensibly. Harry rubbed his hands together in anticipation of the warmth atmosphere that would overcome him as he pushed open the glass door. As expected, the aroma of coffee and sweet treats was draped over his senses, along with a comforting warmth that he had not felt at all that day. He had had a day full of classes teaching young kids how to surf in the wild sea. It was a task and a half trying to control the energetic terrors while they practiced techniques on the still sand, let alone in the actual sea where they could muck about ten times more. Harry had hardly had the time for a tab, much less warming up a little. Admittedly, though, Harry did not care all that much because he was teaching the most amazing thing in the world, in his favourite ever place. Nothing could get much better than that.

Back to the present, and Harry stumbled gracelessly into the shop (it wasn’t his fault his feet were just a bit too long for the skinniness of his legs). He, however, picked up his charm from the ground and brushed it off, walking into the shop in a more civilised manner.