4am

five

This is stupid. She is stupid. Why would she write that? What would possess her to tell her (extremely clingy; slightly idiotic) ex-boyfriend that she has a new boyfriend and that his name is Noah. It would have been just as easy to choose a fake name. God, Saffron thinks, there is something wrong with me.

    Noah himself is oblivious of course, still splashing wildly in the sea. Shaking her head, Saffron turns off her mobile and shoves it deep into her backpack. Out of sight, out of mind.

    "You coming in?" Noah calls, gesturing to the admittedly appealing looking water.

    Saffron nods, slipping her sandals off and padding down across the warm sand. She squeals as the cool ocean first laps across her toes.

    She's just about got accustomed to the temperature of it around her ankles when her foot catches on something on the seabed and she trips forward, her entire body becoming submerged in the cold water. She screams, but there is laughter in her cries.

    By her side, in only knee deep, Noah is cackling, clutching at his stomach. For a moment Saffron just watches him from her position in the water. She sees the way his eyes crinkle as he almost collapses in a fit of hysterics.

    "Your face," he chokes out, gasping for air. Saffron attempts a scowl but fails; his amusement is contagious.

    "Give me a hand up, at least," Saffron says, holding up a hand towards him.

    It's not until his hand is already clasped around hers that Noah clearly realises her relatively obvious plan. He yelps as he gets dragged into the stinging, salty water.

    This time it's Saffron's turn to laugh as Noah's head emerges, dirty-blond hair a few shades darker and plastered to his head.

    Suddenly, she becomes aware of their close proximity, mere inches between them in the water. Her heart pounds forcefully in her chest and, ridiculously, her fight-or-flight instinct begins to set in.

    Despite the fact her body is straining to put as much distance between them as possible, Saffron forces herself to speak.

    "Novice mistake, really." Her voice sounds impressively even, only trembling slightly.

    Neither of them have moved.

    "Leila always said I'm too nice," Noah whispers back. The way his voice is hushed, like he's speaking privately so that only she can hear, makes the situation feel far more intimate.

    He's so close she can see water droplets clinging to his eyelashes. Maybe not, but Saffron's sure she feels him squeeze her hand —

    Her hand. Their fingers are still awkwardly intertwined just below the surface of the water. That's what makes her snap; she yanks her hand from his and wades in deeper. Adrenaline still surges through her veins.

    "C'mon," she mumbles, not daring to look back at him. "Now we're in we may as well go further."

    They swim side by side for a short while after, but its not the same. Saffron is constantly making sure to keep a few feet between them at all times; their infrequent conversation feels forced and uncomfortable.

    Great, Noah thinks. Why didn't he just let go of her hand earlier?

✰

Eventually, when fatigue begins seeping in and the sun is just starting to dip beneath the horizon, they head back onto the shore.

    Feeling considerably more comfortable now that she is back on the sand, resting against a large rock, Saffron delves into her backpack and pulls out her sketch pad and a pencil case.