Short Stories

Clifftop

His POV

As she bends over to untangle her earphones, I watch. I watch the carefullness of her slight fingers as she gently unpicks the knot. I watch the slight crease in her skin where she's frowning against the sun. I watch the blond hair get snagged by the wind and dragged through the air, coming to a stop when it reaches it's full length. I watch as she looks up and meets my eyes- it's only then that I look away.

It was only a matter of seconds that we made eye contact; the image of her face looking at me is branded into the back of my eyelids forever.

The rounded, greeny blue eyes, squinted against the sun, water creasing at the corner of her eye, due to the wind. Her slightly tangled, dark blond hair, desperately trying to fight it's way out of her scalp. The slender bridge of her nose, tilting up as her face scrunches in frustration when she can't get the earphones untangled.

She wears no makeup, and I admire her for that. She's not one of those girls who cakes herself in the fake makeup of society to avoid judgement. Or maybe she is and she just didn't know anyone here well enough to have to hide herself.

Small freckles dot across her face, looking like sand has speckled itself against her smooth, pale skin. She's not usually one to tan, I can tell from the contrast in tanned ankles to pale legs.

When I glance back over, she's still looking at me, the drop of water gone from the corner of her eye, her expression smoothed out a bit more than last time.

She looks down when we meet eyes, her face flushing. The earphones refuse to untangle, and I find myself standing up, going over, and offering to help her untangle them.

A smile graces those perfect lips as she gratefully hands over the black coloured earphones for me to detangle. Luckily, I'm a whizz with knots, and I untangle the majority of the wires without difficulty.

"If you steal them, I'll push you over the edge of the cliff," She jokes, shifting over so I can sit on the wide rock with her.

I take the invitation and laugh. Not too hard to make it look fake but enough to let her know that her humour is appreciated.

Her scent drifts in the wind and I can immediately tell that it's a natural scent, no help given by factory produced perfumes or scented deodorants. My ideas of her being a plastic girl earlier are scratched, along with any doubts that I had of her being a bitch.

She smells of a happy home, all fresh flowers and the slight musk of a put out fire.

"What's your name?" She asks, in a soft voice that could create music just by speaking simple words of any language.

"I'm Rian," I speak for the second time in her company. "What's yours?"

Her name is Primrose.

My beautiful blond on the clifftop.

Her POV

His brown hair whips in the wind. Where there shouldn't be impressions, there usually aren't. But he seems different- mysterious, almost. His blue hoodie is wrapped around him, the hood hanging at the back tapping him occasionally on the back of his head.

In the end, he gives up and folds it behind him, leaning on the soft, blue cloth of it.

There's a matter of two metres between us but it seems like an eternity stretches inbetween the two of us.

Feeling as though I could reach out and claim him as mine, I take my earphones from my pocket to untangle, for something to do with my hands. I fear that if I don't, I will physically reach out a hand to grab the material of his hoodie.