Beata examined her French manicured nails as she sat at the bar, a can of Coke before her. The sun was setting and the world was peaceful outside the bubble she was in.
The bar around her was buzzing with excitement, people – or Kooks – were talking loudly about god knows what. She had no interest in their talk about marketing or frivolous parties she knew were coming up.
A storm had just passed, and everyone seemed to have pushed it aside so quickly, there had been rumours of so many deaths yet here they were jumping around like the rich lunatics they were and pretending all was well, when there could be more people suffering somewhere out in those marshes.
Beata took in that some may be tourists and whatnot, a lot of people did summer here, apparently it was cheaper than the Hamptons, which was shocking to her. Nothing here ever seemed to be under $2.
With caffeine running through her blood, she left the bar, cautiously glancing around, checking for any nosey watchers. She managed to escape the crowd of tipsy old men, singing something in high voices, and round to the dock.
She had heard something about a party earlier that week, not that she was interested in parties, summer was normally her time to rot in her bed. The sun was always out on the island; there was no 'taking advantage of the weather' here.
The sounds from the bar still echoed out to her and she wished she just shut it all out, the joy and the slurred singing. God that was the worst thing.
The brunette pulled out her phone, and scrolled down the cracked screen, checking through her several group chats she all had silenced.
She finally found the one with Isabella Dabois, Sarah Cameron. Beata wasn't particularly close with Sarah, their parents were friends, and she was pretty sure her dad worked for Ward Cameron. But neither of the girls spoke that often.
Isabella on the other hand was extremely close to her, and the pair had been best friends since birth. They go on holidays together, live next door to each other and used to go to school together, before Beata had dropped out.
The idea of her art teacher telling her two years ago that she would never make it in the world of arts if she did classical impressionist paintings rather than that abstract bullshit, crushed her, studying to be anything else seemed like a joke to her.
Art was the only thing she could do.
Occasionally she would still paint, or do sketches but nothing would heal the crack in her heart.
Forty three hours of work gone to waste, her long hours spent by the docks, painting over everything. The expensive oil paints, she had thrown away moments after her whole world had slipped between her fingers.
She supposed that was the world, and it was her own fault. But Beata wasn't exact;y one for revenge. She liked her simplicity. And Pot.
The girl started texting, for what felt like for the first time in years. She hadn't messaged Isabella in at least three weeks, and it almost felt like a weight off her shoulders massaging her best friend.
𝗶𝘀𝘀𝘆𝘆𝘆💖
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heyyy
I'm coming to this party thing
wait really??
omg yayyy
it's already started so just come whenever
okk
what are you wearing?
well, theres a pool so bring ur bikini
im good
dont feel like swimming
i'll be there in like 20 minutes
Ok see u in a bit
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Beata swiped off her phone and walked along the dock, checking the address on her phone. She had no idea who was coming to this party, frankly she didn't really care, but she hoped she wouldn't have to talk to people too much.
Socialising and people, her worst nightmare. Why was she doing this?
───✶ SUKI SPEAKS . . . guys i think im in my short chapter era which is not good. it's fine, I've got a long silver springs chapter coming. this chapter also feels so cringe rn, beata sounds like hilter and rory gilmore with her art thing, if you do rs you know about the hitler thing ( bea is not hilter fyi )
