The Shattered Memory of a Violinist

//Twenty Nine - The Beach House//

So sorry for the long wait!

//Twenty Nine — The Beach House//

Willa Van der Mariel

I stretched out my cramped limbs up over my head and surveyed the beach house before me. It was two story, with blue walls and a sandy porch. I could hear the ocean, and see it hit the white sand beach from here. The house was nice, and I gave it a smile. I had been sitting in the car with Mason for three hours, and had almost suffocated from the sexual tension.

Yes, you heard me right.

Sexual tension. 

I don’t know how it got there, but it was there and we both felt it.

Maybe it came when he picked me up, and I tripped, causing him to catch me, and I had brush the bottom of his pant’s by accident! 

Or when he had slapped my hand away when I was changing the music, and accidentally scraped my thigh. 

Fire had erupted under my thigh, and by the way he snatched his hand away he felt it too.

This made me feel slightly smug. 

I know I had been totally against sleeping with him at the mall, when Mara and Maddi had been betting I would. But, now I would’ve gave a lot to have his hand running up my thing and his lips against mine.

That sounded terrible.

God, I was such a dirty virgin.

I had need’s though! And Mason was probably going to fulfil them.

I didn’t love him. 

But, my undying crush had come back over night. (I don’t think it had ever left) and now I was stuck in my heart once more, craving the attention of Mason Singer.

“You just going to stand there, or come in?” Asked Mason.

I looked up, and refused to be put off. “Was that some rough woo?” I asked, and strode from the car to the porch where he was standing.

Mason only grinned and unlocked the door, and entered. Inside it was nice, very beachy — but my eye’s were training on Mason’s backside to take in much. His ass was looking very very nice, and I could the clench of his muscles in his shirt as he walked and opened some of the curtain’s. 

God, when did I become such a teenager?

Okay, that was a rhetorical question.

Mason disappeared through the hallway, and after a few seconds I followed him. The hallway led out into a open space, that had a kitchen and couch set. And windows. Beautiful windows that showed an amazing view of the ocean. My attention totally flicked off of Mason, and onto the beautiful view. I unconsciously moved closer to it. The sky had began to turn a pink, and the sun was setting in the horizon. It was truly beautiful, and made me want to play Vincent.
“You look like you have been slapped across the face with a fish” Mason said, cutting me out of my awed silence.

I snapped my head in his direction, and felt warmth run up my cheeks. “It’s really pretty” I explained.

He smiled. “It is, isn’t it? Come on, we’re going for a swim”

I blinked at him. “I do not swim”
“Why not?” He challenged. “Scared of a little water”

“No! I, um, didn’t bring any bathers”

This time Mason grinned. “We’re at the beach. Why wouldn’t you bring bathers?”
First of all, I did bring bathers. But, Maddi had swapped them with other bather’s that would not be appropriate.