Crossing the line

Siren

Slowly, the couple made its way to the seaside. Tristan extracted his sunglasses, shielding his grey eyes from the sun. Despite it being only April, it already shone harshly.

Frances' heart hummed as she walked, from the man by her side and his declarations. And for once, the perspective of a seabath – how was he going to react to that ? She wondered – only ranked second in the things that made her tick. An exceptional feat, for usually, nothing quite beat the call of a seagull. Yet, she felt like his presence by her side was the best gift, the most life changing even that would ever happen to her. As if she had drawn all her luck for a lifetime and been granted her greatest wish. Him. His laugh, his gentleness, his heart, his incredibly handsome body and deep eyes. Frances slowed down, setting her head against his shoulder, breathing deeply. Strangely, the smell of the sea didn't reach them, albeit they could see it a hundred meters away; the wind came from the backcountry.

It didn't matter, for the wide expanse of salted water twinkled in the afternoon light, calling her in. And even if her dress wasn't too adapted to the conditions, Frances wasn't about to back down from such an opportunity. Her swimming costume already lay beneath the layers of the long cotton garment...

Tristan paused by the beach's side and watched her as she kicked her shoes away and leapt upon the sand, twirling in delight. His lips quirked, and she was pretty sure that beneath the sunglasses, a gleam of amusement shone within the depth of his grey eyes.

— "Come, my love", she quipped without realising that it was the first time she didn't call him by his name.

— "Right away, lady of mine", he answered.

His leather shoes joined hers in the overgrown bag, and they walked to the shoreline, hand in hand. Of course, he had stolen said bag; a gentleman never let the lady carry his items. At once, the sand insinuated between his toes, warm under his feet until they trod onto the wet area... the temperature change caused a hiss to escape him.

Frances plunged a very careful toe into the water, laughing as Tristan recoiled further up. Then she turned to the sea, considering her options; she had never, never come across water without bathing. It was an unspoken agreement with herself, a rule that stated than whenever she was lucky enough to find the shore, she would take advantage of it. Poking her tongue between her teeth, she estimated the water temperature. 15 degrees, at most. Not unusual for the month of April. She'd done worse with her little brother. The absence of waves, though, would make it a little more difficult but hey ! She had the best of men on shore to warm her up.

So she pulled her long dress over her head, revealing the plain one piece bathing suit.

— "Are you going in ?"

His smooth voice never failed to seduce her and Frances turned to him with a smile. Tristan's eyebrows rose ; he pulled the sunglasses over his head, then looked her in the eye.

— "Are you serious ?"

She nodded, then left a tender kiss upon his lips. Then, inch by inch, she walked into the water. She knew people were talking, watching her as if she was an alien; narrow-minded folk who didn't bath until the water was safely over 23 degrees. But Frances hailed from the north; her soul belonged to the British isles, at best. Scandinavia, perhaps. And she was proud that Tristan had not tried to deter her, nor lecture her for her foolishness. His eyes, though, kept her in sight. And when, at last, her head dropped under the waves, the icy clutches of the sea caused her to gasp. Frances didn't stay underneath; Tristan would worry, and she felt like her head had been dropped into a vice.

The bath didn't last long, but it brought her so much energy, such solace that it was well worth it. When Frances emerged from the sea, she felt cleaned up from the past months of worry and heartache. Grown, a new person able to make the right choices in her life. The ones that would make her happy, despite her parent's wishes and aspirations. And when her gaze met Tristan's silhouette, a tall man standing over the ridicule waves, she knew she had found a gem. His special smile, this slight quirk of his lips, greeted her when she came near.