August - (Under Editing)

2. Augustine

Back when I was living for the hope of it all...

I groaned, stretching my arms above my head. Letting my eyes flutter open, I turned my head towards the window, where the sun sent a few rays through the curtains.

I had the best room in the beach cottage. It was spacious and I had a breathtaking view of the ocean since it was on the second floor. The fluffy duvet made me feel all snuggly and I savoured the moment, before slowly climbing out of my queen size bed.

I wore my forest green hoodie that was a bit too big for me – I always slept in a hoodie – and my black and purple plaid pajama bottoms. I usually hated getting up as I tended to be extremely comfy in bed, but I wanted to spend as many moments awake as I could this trip.

I slid the soft, white curtains open and stared outside. It must be around 8:00, I thought. The sun was rising, sending shimmering sparkles across the ocean. It looked windy, as there were some waves knocking against the red sand. I grinned. I was back where I loved.

I quickly changed, throwing on a t-shirt, a hoodie, – navy blue this time – and a pair of athletic shorts. I brushed my teeth, washed my face, and whipped my hair into two French braids. Grabbing my phone and headphones, I quietly made my way down the wooden stairs and entered the kitchen.

After grabbing some toast for breakfast, I put on some sneakers and slipped out the door, locking it behind me. My family tended to sleep in late, especially after a long flight. I didn't mind.

I ran down the sandy path, admiring the long grass swaying in the warm breeze. God, it's beautiful here.

As I made my way along the sand, the ocean came into view. I stepped onto the beach and smiled, breathing in the salt air. It was all I dreamed of for the past few months. I placed my headphones over my ears and danced along the empty sand, spinning in circles until I became dizzy. A huge grin occupied my face and the wind whipped my braids into a frenzy. I couldn't help it. 

I should write about this, I thought.

I loved to write, though I never shared my work. My notes app was filled with different poems and story ideas. I loved writing romances, but I felt true love was for stories only. I never considered a relationship with anyone, knowing they always ended in heartbreak. Pulling out my phone, I started typing:

But I can see us lost in the memory...

I pursed my lips, staring at my phone, unsure of what to type next. Lost in the memory of...being on the sandy beaches? How could I turn that into poetry? My fingers hovered above the keyboard, as I wracked my brain to turns my thoughts into another line.

Suddenly, my body smacked into something, and I was knocked to the ground. I coughed as my back hit the sand, struggling to take in a breath. The red sand dug into the part of my back where my hoodie and shirt had ridden up. I lay there for a second, before sitting up to glare at whoever had bumped into me so rudely.

I took a moment to assess the figure sitting in front of me. A boy, about my age, stared back. He had short, messy brown hair, and hazel eyes that filled his thin, black-rimmed glasses. His grey hoodie complemented his eyes nicely. He looked like the classic mysterious high school boy in a rom com movie. A book lay next to him, the back cover facing up, so I couldn't read the title. It looked to be a sci-fi about space. I glanced back at the boy's face to see him staring at me in disbelief.

What, do I have two heads? I thought. Sure, I was okay-looking, not ugly but not pretty by any means. He had no right to stare so obviously. 

Wait. 

Does he think I'm checking him out? 

Guys and their egos. It pissed me off.

I raised my eyebrows at him in question, daring him to speak. His eyes quickly dropped, and he mumbled words I couldn't comprehend.

"Um, yeah, sorry," he sputtered finally. Then, picking his book up off the sand, he scrambled to get up, almost tripping in the process. He turned to leave, but quickly spun around back to me, offering his hand like a gentleman in a 1950s movie.

After a moment's hesitation, I took it, letting him pull me up. The top of my head aligned with his eyes, so he wasn't much taller than me. He had freckles splashed across his cheeks, and a small dimple on each side of his mouth. Realizing we were standing extremely close, and his soft hand still encompassed my small one, I took a step back. He met my eyes and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

Just as I was about to ask him his name, he took off down the beach with his book tucked under his arm. I'd say, "took off", but he was really quite slow. I stood there as the sun rose higher, watching him move across the sand. I thought I'd be alone on the beach for the better part of the morning, but apparently there was another early riser.

How awkward, I thought, shaking my head and letting out a small laugh. Knowing Aurora would probably be up by now and wanting breakfast, I made my way back to the house, wondering the strange boy's name and if I'd ever see him again.

*

I spent the rest of the day lounging in my room, writing poetry ideas. I wasn't a nerd per se, but I did love English class. I had a set of pink notecards spread out across the floor, covered in words that worked together, different metaphors I thought of, and certain stanzas that could possibly work into a poem. My idea was to keep track of all the events that happened this summer and put them into a booklet of poetry. It was cheesy, but I thought when Aurora became a teenager, she'd love to know about our summer trip when she was four. My plan was to give it to her on her thirteenth birthday.

I looked over all the notecards placed around the floor, but no inspiration came to me. Instead of continuing to brainstorm, I took out my sand-coloured journal and began to write:

Journal, July 29

Today was our first full day at the beach cottage. I love being here; it reminds me that happiness can be found, no matter how good or bad life is going. When I'm here, I forget about the stupid fancy private school my parents make me attend, how my seemingly best friend is now a bitch, and how I never feel like I'm doing enough. I practical raise Aurora on my own and my parents have no idea.

Anyway, I promised myself I wouldn't write about anything related to crushes, and I swear this isn't because I don't have crushes, but I ran into a boy today. He was so awkward, but it was refreshing seeing someone who didn't seem fake. I'm so sick of preppy teenagers at school who act like they own the world because they have money. At least here I can get away from that.

Awkward Boy, (I don't know his name yet), appeared interesting enough. The only reason I say this is because I've never hoped to make friends here, but for some reason, he has my curiosity spiking. I'm content on my own, but he left me wanting to know more. This year, August is for new experiences; I promised myself that. Maybe Awkward Boy made himself a similar promise...

A/N: Chapters will get longer, I'm just keeping them short for the introductions. Feedback is always appreciated!