I can almost taste the sea salt as we draw closer to the beach. The palm trees hang above the boulevard, glints of sunlight peeking through. On one side is the bustling beach, families, couples, students gather there. On the other side lay the opulent beach houses, most of them made of tinted glass and having a luxury car parked outside. People can only dream of living here. The beach is somewhat of a foreign place to me, like a whole new world. As a child, I would go very occasionally for a family gathering with close family friends and some of my cousins. Once I grew older, and Evie’s death became a reality, my parents stopped being outside people; we just lost all contact with everyone. Work became their main hobby, as if it was the only thing that could take away the pain. The only places I go to are the library, park and school. Not the most interesting lifestyle a teenage girl can have. That’s doubtlessly why I am a writer, I can go to places, and not actually go to them. And that’s the beauty of writing. It’s an escape from living such a fragile life, one touch could shatter everything.
Ashton parks the car about a block away from the entrance to the beach. He puts on his Ray Bans and steps out of the car, murmuring, “Stay here.”
Hearing the trunk open, then some rummaging, a slam (the closing of the trunk), and then Ashton opening my door, holding a bag.
“Thank you.” I grin, diverting my eyes to the black bag hanging off his shoulder. It has the Nike logo on it. “What’s in there?”
“Some towels to sit on, sunscreen, money and other stuff we might need.”
He lends his hand out and I take it.
“Being very gentlemanly, I see.”
“As I intend to be for the rest of the day,” he pronounces.
Hand in hand, we walk down the steep concrete footpath. We cross the road recklessly, too caught up in each other, almost being run over by a speeding Jeep.
“What’s with the new nickname ‘Ashy’?” I squirm in embarrassment.
“I don’t know. I, um, just thought it sounded cute. But hey, it’s better than me calling you sunshine or sweetie pie.”
“I’ll allow it, just because it’s you. And I like you.”
I giggle, holding my hand above my mouth to hide it.
An abundance of people encompass us. There isn’t an inch of space left to sit on.
“Since all I have to do to change is take off this shirt, why don’t you get changed and I’ll find a spot?”
“Then how will I find you?”
“You’re quite noticeably pale.”
“So are you,” I retort, poking my tongue out at him jokingly.
Ashton flicks his golden hair to one side as he smiles cheekily. “Have fun lining up!”
Oh, I am going to have a hell of a lot of fun lining up. The public bathrooms have a gargantuan line up. Some people are waiting so long to the point of becoming restless and giving up. I roll my eyes and step in, sheepishly, at the back of the line. Taking out my phone, I scroll through my endless newsfeed on Facebook. My classmates wonder why I don’t post much. My life has nothing post-worthy I guess. A recent notification pops up, saying that Ashton Gray has tagged me in a photo. I shake my head as I tap my finger against it and the picture enlarges, showing me in the line.
The caption reads, “Being stood up at the beach because my date is too busy line dancing.”
“Oh, Ashton,” I utter, placing my hand over my forehead.
YOU ARE READING
My Double Life
Teen FictionA tragedy changed me. Misery consumed me. The cataclysm that was my sister's death, transformed me into two different people. She died because of what people thought of her. And that is not going to happen to me. My parents wanted her to be a perfe...
