𝙫𝙚𝙞𝙡 | 𝘞. 𝘈𝘹𝘭 𝘙𝘰𝘴𝘦

Ⅶ

𝟏𝟎.𝟎𝟔.𝟏𝟗𝟖𝟓

As the late afternoon sun cast its golden paint across the expansive canvas of Venice Beach, Linda's silhouette etched against the sun's descent, walked ahead with an air of nonchalance, the shifting sands beneath and the ocean flowing in and out kept wrapping her feet.

-Where are you heading?- Axl called after her, holding a stolen bottle of wine from a wine garden.

-You said you know a place.-she pivoted on her heels and made a few steps backward.

-I was thinking of my condo.

Linda, however, countered his proposition with a sardonic look, her tone lofty.

-Oh, so I'm at your mercy now, huh? 

-Only if you want to.-Axl, unfazed, sent her a smirk, his voice dripping with teasy jest.

Linda decided to relinquish the facade of defiance and surrendered to the allure of the beach. She sat on the soft sand, the golden sunlight caressing her features as she basked in its warmth.

-If I wanted to be at someone's mercy, I'd at least pick someone with a better taste in wine.-She glanced at a bottle of Apothic in his hand. She stretched her legs out in front of her and propped herself on her elbows.

She was beautiful there, in a linen halter top and silk mid-length skirt with a slit. Her hair like smoke in the wind. Eyes peeking out underneath the wispy bangs. Like a cat cautiously observing from beneath a bed. That exquisite girl, she embodied a cosmos, the conveyor of phrases that resonated like sonorous gongs and cascaded like harps crafted from mammoth ivory. It was also then that Axl realized Duff was definitely not lying about her. On her face you could read the concentration of a soul whose life is entirely inward, and a mischievous gravity which acquires a silver patina with age. Nevertheless, she was a hard one to pin down. To get to know her was to dance on the edge of a precipice, exhilarating and terrifying all at once.

-How old are you?-she lifted her head, shielding her eyes from the sun with her hand, and squinted.

-34.-he said with a straight face.

She frowned in disbelief. He emanated a youthfulness that defied his reply. His sun-kissed skin bore the vibrancy, touched by the vitality of the sea breeze and the open sky. The only faint lines on his face were under his eyes. As Linda observed him, she couldn't help but notice the intricate tapestry of tattoos adorning his muscles, visible through the thin fabric of his linen black shirt.

-You can't be 34.-she said, scanning him from head to toe.

Axl chuckled, the sound a low and melodic resonance. He settled onto the soft sand, his gaze meeting Linda's.

-I'll take that as a compliment, I guess.-he said.-I'm just messing; I'm 23.

-Thought so, Cali cowboy.-She now sat with her legs crossed and brushed the strands of hair falling on her face with fingers.

-Whoa there.-he snorted.- I ain't no California native.

-From where then?

-Indiana.

She has never been to Indiana, yet her imagination conjured up images of quaint, picturesque towns straight out of a Norman Rockwell painting. She pictured endless fields of corn, old-fashioned red barns, and towering silos reaching for the sky. A classic Americana; everyone cruising in their pickup trucks with mullets on their heads.

-What's it like there?

-What's it like?-he scoffed disdainfully and brushed his bangs back with both of his palms.-Boring as hell. Everyone's so backward and only interested in your business. Nothing exciting, really.