─── THE BEACH (⌗ ♥︎! ) 一 the summer i turned pretty ❜
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Spending many summers at a beach town has taught Conrad many things, one of them being that the ocean can heal him and the waves are all the medicine he needs, reason why he learned to surf and sail. Ever since he learned about their healing power, he began turning to them whenever he needed to clear his mind, forget about everything in land, and just let go.
Conrad was out in the surf, struggling to find the kind of waves he was looking for. He wasn't there to shred. All he wanted was to ride his board until the waves knocked him off, to stop thinking about all the unsaid things between him and Avery, which was slowly driving him insane.
The beach was quiet. It was one of the perks of having access to a tiny and exclusive part of the beach that belonged to his mother's side of the family only since it came with the beach house.
Normally the Fisher boy would have no company on moments like this, but he was more than happy to share the beach with Avery, who was laying on top of a towel on the sand, trying to sunbathe and reading a new book — that he can't wait to hear her rant about.
But Conrad was the only person in the water, so he hung out on his board, floating in the ocean, with his legs dangling in the water, while he waited for the perfect wave that would give him at least a small slice of the peace that he went out there looking for, to arrive.
While he watched a swell coming in from beside him, he allowed his thoughts to wander to the girl he hadn't stopped thinking about in years. His mind lingered over the memories of the kisses they'd shared these past few days. The way their lips fitted perfectly, like puzzle pieces that were meant to be connected, how she always tasted the same, cherry lipgloss, and how it has quickly become his favorite flavor ever.
He thought of how she liked to run her hands through his hair, how it quickly became a habit of hers, and how much he loves it when she takes full control of their kisses. The way her eyes get filled with lust every time they break the kisses, and how the left corner of her lips twitches upwards every time, almost showing the smile she tries to hold in.
If anyone told any past version of the boy that he knows the effect his touch has every time he grazes Avery's skin, that they have fallen asleep tangled in each other's arms and woken up with kisses in every uncovered area of their skin, or that his feelings are no longer a secret and that they are reciprocated, he wouldn't have believed it.
He spent years dreaming of this. Of getting to be the one that holds and touches her, just like others had before him. Every time she dated, hooked up, had a crush, or found someone attractive, he always wished he was them. He wished she would look at him with the same eyes. And it was the worst kind of torture. He had to listen to her rant about them, help her, give her advice, act as the best friend he was, and hide his feelings. He had to see her fall in love with people he called friends and was there whenever they weren't. But he never complained because he would have done anything for her, even things he hates.
