Moving to California daunted me yet excited me at the same time. Transferring colleges was a process, I needed to get all my things in order, my mom was stressed.
But if there was one thing I was looking forward to, it was the girls.
California was a mostly liberal state, which meant that everyone who feels ostracized goes there to be around likeminded people. I was hoping I'd fit in there. I was hoping I'd be accepted there, loved there. I knew I had to come out of my shell to do so, though. It wasn't going to be easy, but I was willing to make a change. I didn't want to be unhappy anymore. I wanted to be content with life, not bored of it.
I needed an adventure.
And this was going to be it. There were so many gay beaches in California for me to be myself at, in a way that I couldn't here in southern Alabama. And there weren't many girls like me here either; creative, black, queer girls. That was part of the reason why we were moving.
I looked out the window of the plane and smiled as we took off.
I was moving onto bigger and better things.
🏖🏖🏖
I didn't have any free time to go to the beach until we were fully unpacked. The house looked beautiful, with its modern style and tasteful furnishings. I was so elated to be calling this my home!
College applications were going well. I got into my top three. I wanted to teach English to young children for a living and maybe publish a few children's books on the side.
The girls weren't going so good though. I was afraid of dating apps ever since some creep pretended to be a girl and threatened to leak my nudes, so I was trying to meet them the old-fashioned way; cafes, libraries, even grocery stores.
But none of it was working.
I was glad to be going to the beach this fine sunny Saturday. I knew it was going to be packed with bodies. Hopefully one of those bodies was someone I could spend some time with, you know, eliminate the loneliness with. And possibly eliminate some other negative feelings as well.
I packed my things and got in my car to drive to South Santa Monica Beach. I'd brought a towel to sit on and a few snacks, along with the book I was reading, The Talented Mr. Ripley by Patricia Highsmith.
When I got there, I established a spot on the soft tan sand. I took my shirt and shorts off, revealing my teal bikini, and put sunscreen on various places of my body. I looked out of my gold aviator shades at the people assembled before me. Some had umbrellas, some were sitting in chairs. Some were tanning, some were kissing, some were walking and playing in the water. But one thing was for certain.
Most if not all of them were gay.
I spread out and began to read leisurely, listening to the waves crash on the shore of the Pacific Ocean. It was soothing. It transported me to the beaches of Italy, where Tom Ripley spent his days with the deeply admired Dickie Greenleaf. That's why I loved bringing books about the beach to the beach. It just made sense.
I was just getting to the part when Tom and Dickie were getting on a boat together when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned to my side, and my breath caught in my throat.
Standing over me was the most beautiful specimen I'd ever seen. With shoulder-length curls wet from the ocean and terra-cotta skin, she stood at about 5'7 from what I could deduct. She had a handsome, sort of playful smile on her full lips, and a one-sided dimple showed. Her eyes were a pretty almond color; I could see them glistening in the sun. Her natural eyelashes were fairly long as well.
To sum it up she looked exactly like what I'd been searching for all this time.
She finally spoke, and her calm voice sent shivers down my spine.
"Hey, sorry to bother you. Great book by the way. Um, me and my friends are short one for volleyball. I was just asking if you wanted to play with us?" she offered kindly, and I smiled despite myself.
Opportunities were falling right into my lap.
I'm not a very athletic person, but I'd be a fool to turn her down. So I got up, set my book down, adjusted my shades, and said,
"Certainly! Just lead the way."
YOU ARE READING
Stick to the Plan
Short Story22-year-old Emery Watson wants a better, more exciting life filled with love and opportunities. She gets just that when she moves to California with her mom. Lounging on South Santa Monica Beach reading a book, Emery finally feels content. But a tap...