Misplaced (COMPLETED)

8. greener pastures aren't always greener

The sand is cold with a damp sting that is sure to leave a wet mark on my bum once I get up. I should care about people questioning whether I've peed in my pants but I don't care. I draw soft circles in the sand, enjoying the texture of it on my index finger. I draw a squiggly line, erase it, re-draw the squiggly line, re-erase it. I'm restless. Why are we still here? What's taking them so long?

Behind me Roberto and Zach are having a conversation of their own. A part of me wants to intrude and sit with them just for the company if nothing else. The larger part of me knows its not my place to interrupt. I don't know what they're talking about but chances are its a private conversation between just the two of them. Friend to friend. And at the end of the day, I'm not friends with either of them.

I should've left with Zoe and Lucy. After explaining the situation to Lucy, Zoe volunteered to show her the body since she was so keen on making sure what we saw was real. I would've gone with them but if I could have one wish, it would be never to see another dead body again for the rest of my life. Lexi's soulless eyes are imprinted into my mind with the scorching clarity that can only be removed with the patient assistance of one hell of a therapist.

"Hey," A voice startles me from my thoughts. Zach.

"Hey," I reply, looking behind us to see what Roberto's doing.

Zach catches my glance, "Said he needed a piss. He'll probably get lost so it'll be a while before he's back."

It's a lot of blunt information but I nod anyway, understanding. My eyes travel back to the constant crashing waves. What I would give to join Lucy's turtles and simply swim away into the darkness. What I would give to be far, far away from here. Next to me, Zach interprets the empty beach as a seat designed for him. His knees bump my own as he sits and the familiar scent of Zach-scented deodorant infiltrates my nose. I inhale deeper.

A long moment of comfortable passes before either of us say anything. The air between us is still more tense than it used to be, but its been filtered down with mutual thankfulness for each other's company. They say tragedy brings people closer. It's sick that a death - no, a murder - is the catalyst for mutual forgiveness, and yet, as we sit on the same damp sand, a silent, 'I forgive you,' is whispered through the wind.

"You doing okay?" Zach's the first to break the silence.

For a split second I want to roll my eyes at him. Am I doing okay? What does he think? But his question came from a place of honest concern and I'm thankful for that. So instead I shrug a little and muster up a half-smile, "Yeah. Yeah, I'm alright. How are you?"

He parrots my small smile and turns to look at me directly, "I'm alright."

Our twelve-worded conversation is quick to bleed back into a tired silence and my mind wanders across unpleasant tangents. There are parts of our break-up I never understood. Things I always questioned. It's been months since our love boat crashed and yet this is the first time I've been alone in a comfortable silence with him. Should I drag up questions of the bleak past to him? Is settling my personal curiosity worth disturbing the moment?

Eventually I find the questions that have been months in the making, "Why'd you do it? I mean, why'd you really do it? I know we were going through a tough time but I thought we were still good?"

When I find the courage to look at him, surprise is written over his features. Surprised I had the balls to bring it up? Surprised I had the voice to ask? But he doesn't look angry and I'm relieved. Last time we were talking about us was back at Morris Lake in sentences that conveyed nothing but our building emotions - none of which were positive.

"Honestly?" Zach looks down at my squiggly lines engraved in the sand. "Honestly, I think I was too little. Too young and immature to be ready for the whole packaged deal. To be ready for you . . . it sounds stupid when I say it like that but it's true."

He looks up at me now and something in the raw honesty across his face has me nodding my head back at him. It is a weak argument but I do understand the truth behind it. Back at Morris Lake, Zach mentioned my family. There was a lot going on in my life then and not just because of my parents' messy divorce. We were sixteen and maybe, just maybe, I was too young too.

"Alright," I accept his explanation, "And Sasha?"

He shakes his head, "It was never about Sasha. I was an arsehole to bring her up when we broke up."

"Yeah. You were."

"I'm sorry about that. I think it was more the idea of the normal high school life that she was associated with. I guess she just got me thinking of what life could be like." He looks at me, unsure. He's treading on eggshells and we both know it. He doesn't want to hurt my feelings. He doesn't want me to react badly.

Instead I merely look at my ex-boyfriend with a steady gaze. While I'd be lying if I said some of his words didn't hurt (who wants to be suggested they're outside of a 'normal high school life'?), I know I'm not going to snap. I was the one who asked the question and if I wasn't prepared for some painful truths, I wouldn't have asked. But having Zach cautious of my feelings isn't such a bad feeling, so I don't bother to interject and let him know it's okay.

"Nothing ever happened between me and Sasha. I never bothered going to the Summer Dance and I don't think she would've wanted to go with me anyway. As it turns out, the normal high school life isn't all it's talked up to be. Greener pastures and aren't always greener."

A slow smile gathers at the heel of my foot. It builds and builds until it worms its way up to my face and ruptures violently in loud laughs. Maybe it's out of relief that nothing happened between him and Sasha or maybe it's deeper than that - the relief of my perpetually bleeding Zachary Evans wound finally scarring over. Either way, once I start laughing I can't seem to stop.

"'Greener pastures aren't always greener'?" I quote him through my giggles, "I never realised you were so philosophical."

Zach's laughing now too. Whether it's out of relief like me or simply because laughing is possibly more contagious than yawning, I don't know. We both hold onto this feeling of unconditional bliss for as long as we can until our fingers scrape each other's in the sand and we realise our heads are now incredibly close together.

If I had a dollar every time the mood had dramatically changed between us tonight, I'd probably be rich by now. The laws of the Earth's physics changes and suddenly gravity is not pulling me towards the centre of the earth, gravity is pulling me towards him. Closer and closer until the tiny row of faded freckles appear on his skin and the rest of the world fades away into timeless oblivion.

Thick saliva sloshes down my throat in a swallow that's deafeningly loud for the moment and that distinctly Zach-scented odour becomes the only thing I can detect. The only thing I want to detect. One mississippi. Two mississippi. Three mississippi. How many times have I found myself counting the seconds in his intoxicating presence? With every second our two breaths become closer and closer until only one puff of air can be seen exhaling into the chilled night air. One more second and the faintest touch of his pink lips whisper, tantalisingly across my own.

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A/N:

Sorry to leave this on a cliffhanger but now you guys just have to read the next chapter ;)

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