Carmilla

Chapter One

My body has become one with the lounge chair. My sweaty, tanning oil slick skin has fully adhered to the rough material when I wake up from my nap. My entire body feels hot, over hot, and tired. I could roll over again. Or I could go inside and drink the whole bottle of cold brew I have in the refrigerator. The latter wins out, and I peel myself off the chair and wander into the beach house.

My eyes are so used to the over-bright sunshine outside that I see big splotches while I travel the short distance from the patio doors to the kitchen, my hip bumps the island, and I mumble an expletive or two.

Glass. Ice from my star ice mold. Cold brew. Splash of oat milk. Mm.

"Honey, are you here?"

"Yes!" I call back; it sounds like she's just gotten back from the grocery store or something.

"Can you help carry bags?"

"Just a sec" I down the entire glass, and it feels like the chilly coffee coats the inside of my sun sick body.

I shove my feet halfway into a pair of my sister's shoes and stumble out onto the front deck.

Then I see her.

She's easily the most captivating girl I have ever seen, which may or may not be influenced by the fact that I've just woken up and have been stuck at the beach house with my mom and sister for five days with the pre-summer blues.

"There you are! Did you forget they were arriving this afternoon?"

"No... of course not" I mumble even though I'm meeting them sweaty and oily in the skimpiest no-one-sees-me-in-this-ever tanning bikini composed of three tiny, ruched triangles.

"Hey, I'm Ren." She says, carrying a duffel bag in one hand and proffering her other.

"You've met Setsuko," Mom says, indicating the pretty Japanese woman to the right who has always sent me sweet cards for birthdays and Christmases. My mother's university roommate who has always lived on the West Coast and has never had time for a lengthy visit east. I've never actually met her kids—Ren and a younger boy whose name I can't recall.

"Carmilla," I say, shaking Ren's hand, trying not to blush or look her up and down. I look into her eyes, but it might be for too long. They're a gorgeous brown, dark gold in the late afternoon sunlight.

She grins, "I know."

I meet Ren's younger brother Ian and carry her mother's gargantuan Louis Vuitton bag into the guest room next to my mom's. Mom makes me show "the kid's" their rooms.

"So, this is my room. You'll be here, Ren. Down there is Alice's room, Ian, you're across the hall from her."

"Okay, thanks," he replies with a polite smile and heads down the hall with his duffel bag. I think he's fourteen or fifteen, close to Alice.

"So, what do you do for fun around here?" Ren asks, sitting on the bed and leaning back on her elbows. She's wearing a tank top, no bra and loose jeans, the bottom of her tank top has been inching higher and higher as we've been carrying bags in. It's nearly at her ribcage now.

"Ah... lie in the sun. Run on the beach. Run through town. Read."

"Oh, so that's why you have such a nice body, you're a runner! I've never been able to run, maybe you can teach me."

"Oh, for sure, for sure..." I'm becoming more and more aware of how gross and dried-sweaty I am. I can just smell myself, it's like a just finished a distance race... gross. "Okay, well I'll let you get settled. My room is just next to yours if you need anything!"

"Thanks... do you have a nickname?"

"Um, lots. Cam, Carmi, Lilla, Mil..." I've just delved into middle school names I want to kill myself why did I list so many I should have just said Cam stupid.

"Okay, thanks, Cam." She smiles, and I succeed in letting no awkwardness bleed into the way I walk out of her room.

I go back downstairs and outside for a moment to myself, dropping into my lounge chair with my head in my hands.

I sit crosslegged and notice something on the back of my calf. I run my hand up the back of my leg and find marks from the lounge chair's fabric up the entirety of my leg and butt. The skin is pink and imprinted. Jesus.

I throw myself back in my chair and wish I was invisible.