One Shot Requests. [CLOSED]

[AustinCarlile] Vacations - jhawkgrl2003

My mother told me that I was insane for bringing everything with me. She said that there’s no point in going on vacation if I was going to bring all my textbooks with me and study.

But, studying on the beach is peaceful. Granted, it’s not the way I wanted to spend my time here, not at all, but that’s what I have to do if I want to actually become a nurse.

There’s no way that I can go into class next week and wing it, I’d fail, and I would have wasted all my money on the graduate school.

I love it here. We used to come here once a year when I was a kid, to this hotel, and I'm almost positive that there were more things for kids to do here when I was younger than there is now.

It’s hot, the sun in like a fire, I can feel the sweat dripping down my back, but I don’t dare get off the chair to cool off in the ocean.

Part of me feels like it’s too gorgeous to step into, that if there are too many people in the ocean at once it loses its beauty.

The water is like a crystal, so blue, to clear, I can see where the sand dips down farther into the earth, and I can see the toes of people wading in the water.

My favorite is the sand, the white sand, with sprinkles of color where the shells have washed up onto the shore, the pinks and the oranges and the blues.

When I got here, I tied my dark blonde hair back into a ponytail, all in efforts to stay a little bit cooler as I read the textbook for the fifth time, trying to retain all the information I missed last time I read it.

The sunglasses that I bought two weeks before I came here are covering my brown eyes, because the glare of the sun on the white pages burns when anyone looks at it, and I’d rather be safe – and look really good – than be sorry.

At times, I find myself wondering how much money I'm putting into college, and if I'm ever going to get that money back, but then I remind myself that as long as I can be a nurse it doesn’t matter.

There’s a shadow on my book, but I was all alone a moment ago, the person sitting in the plush, blue beach chair to the left of me went to the pool with his family.

Furrowing my eyebrows, I look up slightly, only tilting my head a little, not wanting to get caught looking, and I'm glad that I'm trying to remain unseen, because he’s gorgeous.

He’s wearing a tank top, a Slipknot shirt that he clearly cut the sleeves off of because it’s torn where the holes are for his arms, and his arms are inked, vibrant, with tattoos.

Even through the tint of the sunglasses, I can see that his eyes are a brown color, almost like chocolate, but richer, they’re knee-weakening.

His hair, it’s dark brown, and sticking up in a sexy style in the front, not spiked, more like a quiff, and I'm not usually into that, guys who actually style their hair, but he’s so attractive.

“Hey,” his voice startles me, I didn’t anticipate him talking to me. Looking up at him, I smile softly, realizing that he has a nice voice, too, soothing, enticing.

Crossing my right ankle over my left, my knees still bent and the textbook resting against my thighs, I tilt my head to the side. “Hi.”

Sitting down in the chair to the right of me, dropping a drawstring back with the words “Of Mice and Men” painted on the front, he leans forward, grabbing his sunglasses from the bag and putting them on.

He’s so tall.

Why would he have a bag for a book?

Still interested in learning about him, whoever he is, mystery man with all those tattoos, I try to focus on reading the textbook, reminding myself that this exam determines whether I pass or fail and I need to pass.