Stick Around ✔

𝘵𝘸𝘰 ~ 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘭

It's gone 11 o'clock by the time I'm fully awake.

Washing off the sand and salt from last night's swim was especially hard, as it had become stubbornly glued onto my skin.

I also forgot to have dinner last night—I forgot all about my couscous after things with Reiley—so I make myself an omelette on the cooker, as soon as I'm washed and dressed into some new clothes.

I choose denim shorts and a plain white cropped vest—comfy and pretty, but practical as well, with my bikini underneath.

Being next to the sea is so calming, the constant crashing of the waves is reassuring because you know that they'll always continue, always be there.

The rising sun starts heating up the air quite quickly, and I grab my hat, sunglasses and sunscreen from inside my van. Wearing sunscreen is important, even if you want to tan; especially if, like me, you burn really easily.

Once I'm finished up at my van, I survey the sea and, seeing that there are literally no waves, I get my beach towel and book.

I'm about halfway through Wuthering Heights by Emily Brontë now, one of the many classic novels I either brought with me from home or bought on my journey.

Laying my towel down on the beach, I sit down and continue reading my book, instantly submerged into the story. I pause to take off my vest so I'm in my bikini top and shorts, and apply some more sunscreen.

A few hours pass in which I just read, nothing else happening; I seem to have found myself a quiet bit of the beach, minus the beach hut café half a mile away from me.

The beach hut café...Reiley.

Oh great. Now I'm thinking about him again.

I roll over onto my front, and groan, face down on my towel.

I wish the surf was good already; at least then I'd have something to do other than lying here reading.

Huffing impatiently, I sit up and roll my things into my towel, tucking the bundle under my arm and pushing my sunglasses up onto my head.

I'm heading to the beach hut café, Oasis Moon, if you hadn't figured that part out yet.

Reiley's nowhere in sight when I step into the café, there's a brown-haired woman barista behind the counter.

"Excuse me, do you know if Reiley here?" I ask her, biting my lip slightly.

"Reiley...? Oh, Reiley!" She realises who I'm talking about—how many people called Reiley are there round here? Surely, not that many people work in this café...? "Reiley had the night shift last night." She tells me, eyes narrowed, "So, he's not here until 5 tonight, and probably won't be on the beach 'til then."

Damn, the time's only 1 o'clock now. It'll be hours before I see him again.

"Right, thanks." I force a smile as she frowns at me.

Shaking my head at myself, I leave the café—why am I so desperate to see him again?

To be fair, it's probably (definitely) got something to do with the fact that I know literally no one else here in California.

I need to get my shit together; I'm 22 years old, a fully-grown woman, and I'm acting like a teenager over a guy I met last night.

Some part of me needs to wake up and smell the coffee—c'mon Skye Jameson, you aren't 16 anymore.

I had the first love of my life when I was 16... I realise numbly, or so I thought I did anyway.

Sighing heavily, I plop down onto the sand, not even bothering to unroll my towel, and just sit on the bundle.