Taming The Player

3

ERICA FREDRICK POV

As I swing my legs in the ocean, I release a deep, contemplative sigh. The breathtaking vista before me is mesmerizing, especially as the sunset gradually dips below the horizon. This is the one aspect I adore about Australia - the intoxicating scent of the sea and the ability to become utterly lost in thought, whether lying on the sand or swimming in the waves.

As I gaze out at the ocean, I'm reminded that this holiday is my last chance to savor the beauty of Australia before leaving it all behind. The thought of moving to Los Angeles with Mom is bittersweet, especially since it means leaving behind the only home I've ever known.

The pain of my parents' divorce still lingers, a heartbreaking memory that refuses to fade. Now, Mom seeks a fresh start, but it's hard to understand why she chose a new life so far away, tearing me from the place I've always called home. Australia is more than just a location – it's a part of me, a sense of identity I'm struggling to relinquish. As I tuck a stray strand of blonde hair behind my ear, I'm surprised to find tears streaming down my face, the salty taste on my lips a poignant reminder of my sorrow. If only Mom and Dad had never parted ways, our lives would still be intertwined here, in this enchanting land I love so dearly.

"Are you alright?" a deep, concerned voice interrupted my reverie.

I turned to face him, meeting intense brown eyes that seemed to bore into my soul. I hastily wiped away my tears and forced a smile, trying to brush off my emotional state.

"Yes," I replied, but he frowned, clearly unconvinced by my facade.

"You were crying. You're obviously not fine," he pressed on, his worry evident.

I felt a surge of defensiveness and responded curtly, "And now I'm not crying anymore." Internally, I cringed at my rudeness, but I just needed some space.

"I just wanted to know if you're okay," he said gently.

"And I just want to be left alone," I snapped, my tone sharper than intended.

He raised his hands in surrender, "Jeez, okay."

As he turned to leave, I instinctively reached out, grasping the hem of his shorts. "I'm sorry," I whispered, my gaze cast downward.

Before I knew it, he was squatting in front of me, his fingers lifting my chin to meet his gaze. His soft smile was a balm to my frazzled emotions.

"I understand," he said, his voice gentle and reassuring.

He sat beside me, and we lingered in silence until he broke the stillness. "It's late, you should head home," he said, his voice gentle.

I shook my head, feeling a pang of sorrow. "I no longer have a home," I replied, my voice barely above a whisper.

He frowned, concern etched on his face. "What do you mean?"

I took a deep breath, trying to contain my emotions. "I'm moving away soon, to a place miles from here. It hurts, knowing I have to leave my life behind."

He offered a sympathetic ear, "I'm sorry, it must be tough for you."

I chuckled softly, feeling a bit vulnerable. "It's fine. I don't know why I'm even sharing this with you."

He gave my shoulder a soft squeeze, his touch comforting. "I'm sure everything will work out," he said, trying to reassure me.

I shook my head, feeling a sense of despair. "Nah, I don't think so. Why does life have to be so damn hard?"

He laughed, a warm, understanding sound. "That's life for you, full of ups and downs." He introduced himself, "I'm Marcel."

I smiled slightly, "I'm Erica."