Nash

Un

I woke up to the sound of my phone vibrating on my nightstand. It was the alarm I had set to make sure I got up in time for the sunrise. I rolled out of bed and got myself ready. I looked in the mirror one last time before grabbing my camera. My dark brown hair fell in loose ringlets down my shoulders, almost reaching my waist, my green eyes had finally opened up completely after sleeping, and it seemed my freckles had spread a little reaching under my eyes and over my nose. I quietly made my way outside to find my bike. It was early summer and the air was warm and smelled like rain. I stumbled through the darkness until I found the side door leading into the garage. I opened the door and switched on the lights. The garage was pretty empty aside from my family’s bikes lined up by the wall. I pulled mine out of the line-up and brought it out into the darkness. I took off with my camera in a small bag over my shoulder. I rode through my neighborhood carefully since it was kind of hard to see. I did a bit of off-roading down a trail through the woods until I came to the bluff overlooking the lake. It took me about a year of wandering to find this trail and spot. It was getting lighter and the sun was coming up, bringing beautiful shades of red, pink, and orange to the sky and reflecting off the lake. I sat down in the grass and took out my camera. I had only gotten the sun into view when my peace was disrupted – I’ve never been much of a people person – by a British, male voice. “Lovely, isn’t it?” the voice asked. I jumped, not expecting company. I turned around to see who was ruining my silence, and found the guy was slightly…attractive. He was tall, with dark, almost black, curly hair, and extremely blue eyes. I was never good at guessing ages, but I was sure he was about my age, fifteen. He was holding a camera too, which explained what he was doing here. I nodded, attractive or not I wanted him to leave so I could be alone. I turned around to face the lake and took a picture. He came and sat next to me. I desperately tried to ignore him but he wouldn’t have it. “I’m Nash, by the way. You are?”

        “Mona,” I said, not looking up from my camera. Leave, leave, leave, I thought. I played with the focus and such on my camera and took a few more pictures. Nash raised his camera and began to take pictures too. After he took a few, he reviewed them, and lowered his camera into his lap, seemingly in thought. I put my camera away but didn’t make a move to get up. Maybe he’ll just take his pictures and leave, I thought.

        “You’re into photography, then?” Nash asked. I nodded. After several minutes, he still showed no signs of leaving, so I stood and adjusted my camera bag.

        “It was nice meeting you,” I said.

        “You’re leaving already?” he asked, looking up from his spot on the grass. I nodded, avoiding conversation. “Let me walk you back,” he said, standing up.

        “Oh, no, you don’t have to…” I said.

        “No, it’s alright. I’m pretty sure we’re going the same way,” Nash said, picking up my bike. “I’ll walk your bike for you.” I held back a groan and started down the trail. “I think we’re neighbors. I moved in a couple weeks ago; I’m pretty sure I’ve seen you out before.”

        “Yeah, I saw the moving van,” I said. I glanced down at my shoes, a beaten up pair of Converse.

        “I’m from England, in case my accent didn’t give me away,” Nash said. I smiled, he seemed okay. We finally came to where the trail ended and the road started. “Left, correct?” he asked. I nodded and we began down the road.

        After walking in silence for some time, we came to his house – an old, southern style house, complete with columns and a balcony – and paused awkwardly. “You’re welcome to come in, if you’d like,” he said. Oh why not? I thought as he propped my bike up in the driveway. I smiled and followed him inside. The inside was exactly what you’d expect from the house just by looking at the exterior, pictures of assorted family members, comfortable furniture, and mostly white walls. He led me to a sitting room with big windows, light, flowing curtains, and an ornate fireplace. “Make yourself comfortable,” Nash said. “I’ll make tea. Yes, I know, very cliché for an English guy.” I sat down in a flower-patterned armchair and glanced around the room. The walls were about as white as they could get, with dark, hardwood floors. The high ceilings made me feel very small, but the light coming in from the gigantic windows was comforting. I sat in silence until Nash came back with our tea. He set our cups on the coffee table and sat on the couch across from my flowery chair. He picked up his cup, winked at me, and in the most proper, English voice I’ve ever heard, said “Lovely weather.” I did everything I could to hold back that laugh, but I couldn’t. “So you can do it? You know how to laugh?” I rolled my eyes and picked up my cup.

        “Whatever,” I said, smiling. I took a sip, and stared at him with a horrifying look. “This tastes like water with a faint, fruity aftertaste.” Nash laughed, took my cup, telling me I don’t deserve it, and brought it back into the kitchen.

“Would you like a tour?” he asked.

“Sure,” I responded. And with that, he gave me a tour of the house, and I met his parents, who were really nice but looked absolutely nothing like Nash. They both had light, straight hair. I didn’t ask any questions though. It was starting to get dark, and I realized I hadn’t told my parents that I had left. I said goodbye to Mr. and Mrs. Harrison and Nash offered to walk me back. This time, I accepted. “Thanks for having me over,” I said, taking my bike.

        “Anytime,” he said. We walked through his yard and to my garage door. “Will you be taking pictures again tomorrow?” I shrugged.

        “Probably,” I said.

        “Well, then see you tomorrow morning,” Nash said, bowing jokingly before heading back. I curtsied in response and said a proper-sounding goodbye. “Hold up,” he said turning around. “Could I have your number?” I smiled, found a pen, and wrote it on his hand for him. I then went back inside to my parents lecturing me on making sure I tell them I’m leaving before I go. I saw it coming. When I finally got to bed, I started thinking about Nash. I’ve always been a bit of a loner, I don’t feel the need for boyfriends or best friends, it creates stress and drama trying to keep up with them. Maybe I could make an exception for Nash though; he seems like a good guy, low maintenance and calm, but only as a friend, of course. I don’t need a relationship; no one could ever fall in love with me. My thoughts were interrupted by a text from him telling me to meet him same place, same time tomorrow. I replied and drifted off…

        I woke up to my phone vibrating again, my alarm. I turned off the alarm and rolled out of bed, throwing my phone on the mattress. I slowly got ready, and grabbed my camera, putting it in its bag. I wrote a note for my parents, pulled my bike out of the garage, and took off. The morning air felt crisp and refreshing on my face as I rode my bike probably a little too fast through the dark. Something felt terribly wrong though, like I shouldn’t be outside. I ignored the feeling and continued on my way. I slowed down going through the woods, to let myself enjoy it, but the feeling didn’t go away. When I finally got to the bluff, I dumped my bike next to the trail and found a spot to sit. I took my camera out of the bag, and brought the sunrise into focus. Suddenly, I was pulled up onto my feet with great force, causing me to gasp and drop my camera. “We have to go. Now,” Nash said urgently.