Sage

37

I feel peaceful with my feet outstretched on the warm sand and the afternoon sun draped over my bare skin, heating it at the touch. The sound of the ocean waves is nothing short of peaceful as they come up to the shore and fizz on the sand, only to be tugged back into the water in gentle waves.

It had been about a week and a half since Harry and I left Addison and all of those shitty memories behind. We both came to a silent agreement that we weren't going to talk about it for a plethora of reasons. I was grateful for this mainly because there was nothing worth discussing.

I knew my mother was foaming at the mouth once Elijah got to her due to the hundreds of messages and calls I'd got from her. They didn't stop until Harry finally answered the phone and snapped at her for stressing me the fuck out, then proceeded to hang it up and block both of their numbers. I didn't have it in me to tell him otherwise, I was just grateful to be able to use my phone without panicking every time I got a notification.

I hadn't left Harry's condo since. Mostly because I'd grown extremely exhausted these last couple of days, but also because Harry wouldn't let me go. There was always some excuse he had as to why I could stay another day or two, and eventually I stopped asking because whether I wanted to admit it or not, I'd gotten used to living with him and couldn't be fucked with another change. It just felt easier this way.

"Feeling good, momma?" Harry asks me, jogging up from the water and coming to our tent he'd set up. I lift my shades from my eyes and squint up at him as he shakes his wet hair and spits a loogie in the sand.

"That's disgusting,"

"Swallowing it is disgusting, I gotta get it out anyhow," He says, reaching into our beach bag to grab some sunscreen. I watch him as he squirts it into his hand and rubs it over his face for the third time today, showing me that he was a lot more obsessive about his skin than I thought he was.

"Did you get enough pictures? I'm hot and I feel like a fucking rotisserie chicken." I ask.

We were only out here because it was a couple of days before the fourth of July, which is apparently when one of his clients, Olivia, is releasing a new album. Harry needed to show his face to the public, which meant I needed to show mine as well. It was the summer, so what better place to do so than the beach?

"Plenty of pictures of me, none of you," He looks up at me for a moment as he smears the product on his forehead.

"Do they need pictures of me?"

"They need pictures of us, otherwise they'll write articles about how I came to the beach to look at half-naked women while you sat on a chair the entire time," He tells me, and I know he isn't lying. I've experienced firsthand the measures people take to get views on their articles. I want to ask him if he was looking at half-naked women but decide against it.

"Why can't you just take pictures of me and have Jane post them on those burner accounts?" I whine, throwing my head back. This bikini was riding up my ass and I was starting to get hungry and not for the lukewarm tuna sandwiches Harry packed.

"Because I don't want to. Just come, you don't have to get in the water to pretend to have fun. I can see that ugly pout from out there," He points to the water before standing to his full height and resting his hands on his hips.

"You're fucking annoying," I give in with a groan. "And I want some of that Indian rice Julio made last week...with the eggplants."

"Vangi Bath," Harry corrects.

"Yeah, does he work on Sunday's? Do you think he could make it for me?"

"He usually does but his kid's got this recital. I can make it though," He shrugs, adding, "it's not hard,"