Ocean Blue & You

hopeless romantic

It had been three days since the sleepover with Emma, and three days since I had seen Jack. I already missed him so much. It had been very hard the next morning to act like I had come back from Anna's. I had had to get dressed and then grab my rucksack and sneak down the stairs past the kitchen door which was slightly ajar and cross over to the living room window, open it, climb through and come in through the front door that way because it made a lot of noise if you shut the front door. Mum made me breakfast and I had once again that guilty feeling in the pit of my stomach when I had lied to her and she was oblivious and kind. But I always reminded myself the consequences if I told her what I was up to, and that always made me feel better for lying, but worse too because of why I had to lie to her.

It was a baking hot afternoon. There was no longer a drought, or a heatwave. Just a really hot summer for Britain. Everyone in England at least was getting crunchy, straw like grass and even leaves had started to fall in shades of amber and rouge, which was a strange sight for July, when we were usually expecting our dry leaves to fall in two or three months time. Almost everyday now I'd go down to the beach and dive into the cool, shallow depths of the sea. Because of all the hot weather, it meant the beaches were packed, and Littleton was once again experiencing it's typical British tourist attractiveness. So many families were lying all over the beach with parasols, and hyper little kids were running around in their knickers with ice cream all around their mouths, while their mothers chased after them with sun screen. That was one of the only things I hated about summers in Littleton. Usually it was a sweet, quiet village most of the year (apart from Greater Littleton where my school was at the top of the hill). But I hated it when you couldn't walk along the beach without bumping into a tourist or stepping on one of their toes. It was very irritating.

But that afternoon I had decided to lie out in the garden and catch a tan (which Mum was extremely worried about and put loads of sun screen on me anyway). I was flat on my stomach with my back to the sun, my bikini and shorts on and my rose-tinted sunglasses over my eyes as I read a magazine. Mum was watering the lawn with the hosepipe, and luckily ours was still green because she watered it regularly. Occasionally I would feel the spray over my back and arms, but I didn't mind. It was cooling as the sun bet down on me. Just as I was gazing at a picture of Kate Moss from the 90s in a stunning gown, Dad opened the double, glass doors out to the garden and walked over to me.

"The mail just arrived!" he exclaimed, "you've got a letter, Posy."

I was a little surprised. I never usually got mail personally unless it was from my grandparents or aunt and uncle for my birthday or Christmas or something. Curiously, I thanked Dad and took the envelope from him. Neatly written on it was our address and then my name. The handwriting looked strangely familiar. But it didn't remind me of either of my grandparents' handwriting or my aunt's or uncle's. I slowly and carefully picked open the envelope and pulled the letter out from inside. Just as I read 'My dear Posy,' my heart skipped a beat. I finally recognized the familiar writing It was from Jack. My heart bet fast inside my chest, and making sure Mum couldn't see it, I hid it behind my magazine and read.

My dear Posy,

Even though it's only been three days, I miss you more than ever. It's all I can do not to stop myself rushing over to your house and knocking on the door for you, or calling. I know we can't because your parents might see, but it hurts me more than ever. I wish it wasn't that hard to contact you. So I'm doing it the old-fashioned way, because that way your parents won't guess and you can keep this safely hidden, or burn it, if it comes to that. I wish I could feel your lips against mine again, or just hear your voice. When will we be able to see each other? I'm falling to pieces not knowing when will be the next time I gaze into your eyes. Or touch your soft skin. I can't get you off my mind, even when I'm trying to study. It's too hard. I'm a hopeless romantic. Please stop me from coming over and RSVP when you get this. I can't bare to wait any longer. I miss you too much.