Layla retrieved the TV remote from under the blanket beside her and pressed the power button. Her mom had fallen asleep hours ago, and she couldn't fathom the idea of watching one more episode of the Real Housewives without bashing her head against the wall.
The house was quiet without the noise of the television blaring. Her dad had also fallen asleep hours ago, leaving her completely alone with her thoughts. She checked her phone: it was only nine-thirty. The sky still held a single streak of burnt orange sunlight, like a stray firework, signalling the end of June. In fact, today was the longest day of the year, June 21st. Layla could feel the restlessness crawling through her bones. She rarely walked around the neighbourhood this late, but it was still technically light out, and she could feel the delicious breeze coaxing her outside through the window screens.
She stood up slowly so she didn't wake her Mom, grabbed her headphones, slipped on a pair of old flip-flops and closed the screen door lightly behind her. The evening air smelled sweet and humid as if a thunderstorm had stirred the earth. As always, the salty fragrance of the ocean hung in the air like a comforting blanket.
Layla walked across the lawn and onto the dirt road leading down to the beach, one of Taylor Swift's newly released ballads blasting through her headphones. The other houses were quiet, too—none of the kids her age had arrived for their summer vacation yet. It seemed only old Mr. Arthur was still awake. Layla waved as she passed him sitting on his verandah with his usual rum and Coke in one hand and a cigar in the other.
She had only been on Princess Anne Island, or PAI as the locals call it, for a week since she had finished exams in mid-June, but already she was already settling into a relaxing summer routine: wake up early, go for a run, read on the beach and eat an early dinner with her parents before settling into a quiet evening of trashy TV. It was almost enough to make her forget about her ex-boyfriend, Mitch. Almost.
As Layla had expected, the beach was stranded. The last slice of glowing orange sunlight was still peeking out above the horizon, but the air was as warm and sticky as it had been during the day. Layla walked down to the shoreline to feel the cool ocean waves lap against her toes and inhale the fresh, salty scent of the water. That had always been her favourite part about coming here as a child: smelling the air through the car window as they passed over the bridge and the red earth came into view. It smelled like freedom to her, and brought with it the promise of another perfect summer spent making sand castles and eating delicious fried food.
She walked along the red sand, dodging shells and washed-up jellyfish. The last sliver of sun had fully dipped below the horizon now, causing dusk to fall and the first sparkling stars of the night to reveal themselves. The next time Layla looked up from her toes sinking into the damp sand, she noticed a boy sitting on a rock near the shoreline. The waves crashed up against the boulders periodically, but he didn't seem to be bothered by the spray. He looked to be about her age, seventeen, or maybe a few years older. Layla could just make out his profile in the dim light, but something about his face looked familiar. She hesitated for a moment and removed her headphones before continuing along the beach in the boy's direction to get a closer look.
Once she was less than ten feet away from him, he looked in her direction and smiled, one side of his mouth rising slightly higher than the other. He looked charming, almost impish in the moonlight.
"Hello," he waved. "Lovely evening, isn't it?"
"Yes," Layla smiled back at him but stopped herself from getting any closer. "Is this your first time on the island? I don't think we've met. I'm Layla."
"We have met, actually, but you were probably too young to remember. I'm Jack."
"Oh, I thought you looked familiar," Layla stepped closer to the rocks, placing a hand on the warm, grainy surface of one of the boulders. "I'm sorry, I can't place you. Are you related to the Sandersons? Oh wait, I know, you're a friend of my second cousin, Stephen?"
Jack chuckled softly as the waves crashed into the rocks, sending white foam splashing up towards his knees. Layla took note of the moonlight bouncing off his jet black hair and icy blue eyes, her breath catching.
"No, none of that. It's okay if you don't remember me, I look a little different," he smiled again, eyes twinkling. "Care to join me?" He patted the empty space beside him on the flat rock.
"I should really be getting back," she looked back towards the tiny wooden cottages behind them, each porch lit up by a single lantern glowing softly in the dusk. "But we should hang out sometime. I've been so bored since I got here. There's no one my age to hang out with."
"Sure. I'll be around," he smiled.
"Cool. See you soon, Jack," Layla gave him a final smile and wave before turning around and walking the length of the beach to the dirt road.
Jack, Jack, Jack, Layla repeated in her mind again and again as if she were trying to uncover some long-buried memory from her childhood, but she came up short every time. When she reached the house, she opened the screen door slowly so it didn't squeak too loud, then climbed the creaky wooden staircase to her bedroom.
That night, Layla dreamt of the handsome black-haired boy sitting on the rocks, his expression smooth and placid despite the waves crashing angrily around him. He held out his hand to her, and she took it, enjoying the feeling of his warm, strong fingers intertwining with hers. Together they jumped into the surging ocean below, laughing like children as the cold, salty water clung to their skin. It was the first night she hadn't dreamt of Mitch since he broke up with her.
YOU ARE READING
Return to Faerie
FantasyWhen Layla meets a handsome, dark-haired man named Jack on the beach while visiting her family cottage with her parents, she knows he seems familiar but she can't quite place him. He seems to know a lot more about her than she knows about him, and...