The Storms Of August

Chapter Twenty Two: I Cannot Dream Tonight

I have never seen anything like Bora Bora before or since. We were surrounded by crystal clear, turquoise waters and pure white beaches. Warm, sticky air was welcomed by my skin. It was nice to not walk outside and instantly become a living, breathing popsicle. In the distance, was a monster of a mountain among tall palm trees that almost touched the heavens as it extended its long, rocky fingers to the sky. A pamphlet on the plane told me it was a dormant volcano, a low threat despite the heat raging below. Among the blue sky it touched were but two little drifting clouds, seemingly lost and searching franticly for a place in which they belonged. I was amazed. It was stunningly beautiful, easily the most aesthetically pleasing place I'd ever seen. All of this was taken in at a very short time, as the aggressively humid air persuaded beads of sweat to form along my hairline and the sun beat down on our heads.

"It's good to be back!" Demi said excitedly beside me as she threw away a grey smeared paper towel into a nearby trashcan. Demi wore a blue and silver Cowboys snapback backwards on her head and a shit eating grin as she peered through her Prada sunglasses into the car rental parking lot.

On my other side, Joe held my hand groggily as he halted his suitcase in our pause in footwork. He had been awoke from his fifth round of slumber not long ago and was dragged place to place in a state of confusion up until this point. Beside him, Nick was sweating like a dog in a white tank top and his black shorts. His "suitcase" was not really a suitcase at all, but a tightly packed army green backpack that hung heavy on his shoulders from its own weight. I could tell right off the bat that he would have tan lines on his neck from those exact black straps.

Personally, I was wide awake. I had five hours of sleep on the way to the gorgeous island before I got unbearably uncomfortable and awoke. I spent eleven long hours slipping in and out of daydreams, falling up and down between nightmares of consciousness. None of which should have been crossing my mind at such lonely hours, especially while I held Joe's hand. My large duffle bag was slung across my shoulder, weighing me down significantly. Joe offered to take it for me, but I thought I had enough brawn to handle my own luggage. I was wrong, but I did not want to be teased, so I leaned into him for support as subtly as I could. A gentle wind blew through the busy lot and waived my hair about. I fought it as much as I could, but I was losing with only one free hand, crippled at the shoulder from the bag. It was one of those long, awkward breezes that acted like a fly- I adjusted a thousand times, and I swatted the unwanted force away, but it was kicking my ass. Joe noticed my frantic movements and laughed, placing his white polo cap on my head and kissing my temple.

From the corner of my mind, I could see Demi watching me over her shoulder with a stare that could shatter glass and pierce steel, but like the wind, it was a moment that lasted forever in a period of seconds. She stuck in my mind for a while though, her dark eyes cutting into me like noontime rays in a wave and scorched me like sun poisoning. There was so much hidden in every look, all the clouds in her skies hid what it was that plagued her mind and haunted her hallways. There was a prickle at the ends of her eyes when Joe touched me. It was almost like his skin on mine burned her flesh like fire. The glint of the tropical sun dimmed just slightly upon seeing the sight of us and changed to be an almost determined glare.

"Lets get a hot rod, suggestions?" Demi said to us all, her eyes fixated on me for a secretive moment before drifting to Nick.

"A Jeep?" I asked, thinking vacation Everett style.

Everyone laughed cutely, looking at me like some small child. Joe rubbed my head while Nick just looked at me with a wide smile and a slight laugh. Demi was smiling too, looking at the endless pool of options in the lot ahead. "This is no regular vacation buttercup," Nick smirked, "This is Ed Walker's annual bribe to guilt. All we get is on him."