Royally Screwed

01

The sand on the beach was warm, water rolling on the shore in beautiful curls that reminded me of dark brown almost black hair. Summer doesn't last forever, I reminded myself harshly. 

That meant, I couldn't keep pretending that this wasn't my life. That, I would go home and work there. It meant, I needed to start looking for work here in my new home. I curled into a ball, wanting to go back, to stay where I belonged with my friends, to go job hunting with them. I missed the ocean in Galway, the rush of a river as met the sea. I missed making fun of our little harbour, of the castles and everything in it.

My friends thought I was lucky and maybe in the first week, I felt like I was lucky, but as time wore on, I just felt homesick.

Philip wasn't really graceful so I heard him before I saw him flop down on the sand beside my mat, brown curls blowing in the wind and a cheeky smile on his face. As always, he wore shades on the beach, dark ones that hid his ocean blue eyes. 

"Hey," He said, lips curled. I'd never managed to pen down his accent and every time I did try to learn about him, he managed to switch the topic so deftly. 

Perhaps, it was part and parcel of a one night stand, but right now, we were possibly bordering on summer fling. That is if Philip and I felt that way about each other. But it was hard to like someone you barely knew. "Hey, my mum is home," I said a little glumly.

"Well, the beach is empty," He replied, face serious. I cast an incredulous glance around the very not empty beach. 

I shook my head, "Philip, I don't care if you're the prince or a greek god, I'm not shagging you in public."

"Shagging?" He frowned. I wasn't sure if I was imagining the slight wary look in his eyes, but it was there, like a bear gauging whether it was a friend or foe.

"Having sex with," I replied, pushing back raven black hair from my face. 

Philip leaned in, lips curled. The look gone, and replaced with his usual mischief. Instinctively, my eyes shut ready for his lips on mine. Sure enough, soft, sand tasting lips met mine. I laid down on my mat as Philip rolled himself on top, I ran my hand through his bare back, full of sand. I flinched, pulling away. 

"Philip," I whined, wiping off slightly damp sand off my bare torso. 

Philip laughed, "I've no idea why you come to the beach when you don't like sand." 

"It's sticky," I replied annoyed.

"It's been a month Alana," He stood up, sand sticking to every part of his beautiful body, "Live a little."

"Having sex isn't living, Philip."

Philip shook his head, "Contrary to your belief, I don't just spend time with you for sex."

"Oh really?"

"I find you very entertaining." 

"Pleasant," I replied, still seated. I daintily rubbed sand off my knees.

"Alana," He called, trying to gain my attention. In truth, it worked. There was something about the way he said my name that was endearing and pleasant and all sorts of comforting. Maybe, I liked accents, accents that weren't Australian or maybe, I liked having a friend who wasn't from here, who was as temporary as the season itself.

So, grudgingly, I turned to glance at him and stood up. "Very well, what are we doing?"

His face lit up, grin wider and his hands intertwined with mine as he dragged me on the beach, "We're renting surfboards."

Maybe someone should have warned us that one night stands were just one night stands, that you don't surf with them, you don't lay in their bed and sleep together and you definitely didn't talk to them. 

But we were foolish to think we'd escape this unscatched. Or at least I was because after all, he was leaving and I was staying here.

But as I tried to surf, Philip laughing and encouraging me as we tried to conquer the waves together, everything faded into the background, it was just Philip and I.

And as night settled in and the beach became emptier, save for Philip and I sticky from the wet waves, the same waves broken on the sand, touched our toes. I glanced up at a nearly starless night sky, "When are you leaving?" I dared to ask.

"In two weeks," Philip replied. "I'm going home." He paused, biting his lip, "to Greece."

It hits me like a wave and it's everything I could do to hold it all in. To keep my face neutral, to hold the hurt that tried to sweep me over and the frustration. I'd hoped he stayed near, not a 19 hour flight away. If I was in Ireland, it would have been a four hour flight. 

It was still far off, almost at the other end of the world. "Alana," He whispered, softly gently, so I turned to look at him. At the stupid dark sunglasses he never took off, the curly brown hair that I liked to run my fingers through and those beautiful plump lips that I liked to kiss. 

There was something in his voice that was gentle and endearing. It could have been the environment we were in, far away from home, a little lonely that brought us together. But later, in a future I never thought I'd have, I'd hate it when he said my name.

But for now, I didn't know the future, I didn't know what it carried but I leaned in, pressing my lips to his. We were sticky, we were sandy but I didn't quite care in that moment. He lowered himself down as I crawled on top of him, the sand his bed and as kiss after kiss came, I lowered my inhibitions that night, undressing ourselves in public, down under the stars.

It wasn't very romantic, because there was a lot of sand, sand in my hair, sand in his hair and sand on our bodies. When we were done, I rolled on the side, both of us naked under the stars. "How do you see with your sunglasses on?" I asked.

"You'd be surprised."

"It's already dark out."

"It's very stylish," He said, smirking. "Does it make you uncomfortable, Alana?"

I moved closer to him, kissing his lips, "Yes."

He laughed but didn't take the sunglasses off as he kissed my lips. "I forgot to bring my glasses Alana. Here's a secret, I've bad eyesight."

I didn't believe him. 

But I let it slide.

Just like how we both might have let the condom slide that night.