Reclaiming the Sand
Page 4
I hopped down from the stool and tied my long blonde hair up in a loose ponytail. I rolled my sleeves up and tucked the tiny gold cross I wore around my neck into my shirt. You never knew what to expect from people, so it’s important to always be prepared. I had learned a long time ago that the fewer things for someone to grab, the more likely you are to walk away.
I put my shoulders back, my chin high. I was a pro at looking confident. I was tough as nails and everyone knew it. Messing with me was a bad idea. I had a reputation in Wellsburg. Particularly after my stint in detention, people tended to stay away from me. Those with good sense anyway.
I used my fists first and my brain later. My mouth often landing me in trouble that I took care of with my steel-toed boots. I never shied away from confrontation. The scars underneath my chin and at the hairline by my ear proved that.
I didn’t like feeling uncomfortable. I didn’t like feeling anything. This guy needed to get what he came for and get out.
“Can I help you?” I asked belligerently. The man stood at the end of the aisle putting things in a basket. His back was to me and all I could see was the stooped bend of his shoulders beneath a long sleeved blue shirt, which seemed strange in the middle of July. His hair was dark and messy and he looked to be of average height. He wasn’t overly muscular, nor was he slight. He seemed to have a medium build with a nice definition to his arms.
He didn’t turn around at the sound of my voice. He continued to choose items from the shelf and carefully placed them in the basket, ignoring me.
“Hey! I asked you something!” I called out walking toward him. The man shuffled away and slipped into the next aisle, his sneakers shrieking against the smooth flooring. Why did I get the feeling he was running away from me?
Well, I did have that effect on people.
My general sense of disquiet increased as I followed him. He was still putting things in his basket but I noticed his movements were now jerky and less controlled. But he kept his face turned away from me.
I reached out to take the basket from him. “What the f**k is your problem?” I barked, giving the basket a hard wrench.
The guy ripped it out of my hands and then promptly dropped it on the floor with a loud clang. It tipped to the side. Tubes of toothpaste, a box of crackers, and several sleeves of chocolate chip cookies rolled across the floor.
“You need to pick that up, you know,” I commanded. The guy was already hurrying out of the store.
Forgetting about the spilled groceries, I scrambled after him.
He pushed his way outside and practically ran down the sidewalk. I stood in the open doorway, watching him, bewildered by the strange encounter. The hot summer air was suffocating in its warmth. Humidity bearing down on me like a blanket.
The dark haired guy waited for a car to drive past and then crossed the road. I thought about yelling after him. Maybe following him and making him clean up his mess. I was feeling edgy and wanted to take it out on someone. I wasn’t picky whether it was a stranger or not.
But then the guy stopped and looked back at me.
And I froze.
I knew that face.
It was a face I had hoped I’d never see again.
The face I hated, blamed and missed in equal measure. A face I hadn’t seen since that night six years ago when my entire life changed.
Why had he come back here?
I didn’t really care.
All I knew was that Freaky Flynn was back in Wellsburg.
The man who had ruined my life.
2
-Ellie-
My head felt like it would split in two. Welcome to hangover hell. I rolled over in bed, the small action making me groan. Every. Single. Part. Of. Me. Hurt.
Seeing Flynn Hendrick last night, after six years of trying to forget him, had served as a catalyst for some good ole fashioned self-destructive behavior. Something I was extremely good at.
I had closed up JAC’s and headed to Woolley’s bar, where it was packed with the drunk and stupid crowd. Of which my friends were the leaders of the bunch.
Dania was slumped over in a booth, her pregnant belly poking out from underneath a shirt that was way too small for her growing body. Her eyes were closed and a bottle of beer had tipped over into her lap. Craig, the sleaze, was nowhere to be found. I guess he had gotten what he wanted and f**ked off. Such was Dania’s way with the opposite sex.
I had joined the rest of the group, my nerves jangled and my anger piping hot. Shane Nolan, the guy who had taken my virginity when I was fourteen and had been trying to get in my pants ever since, was making out with our friend Regina, aka Reggie, Fisher on the other side of a passed out Dania.
I had sat down beside Stu Wooten, a guy with a police record to rival mine¸ and stole his beer. He didn’t blink, only raised a hand to get the waitress’s attention and ordered us a round of shots.
I got drunk. Really, really drunk. And then I had gotten rowdy. Shane, once he realized I was there, had shoved Reggie away and spent the rest of the night groping my ass. I had ended up punching him. Reggie and Stu laughed, I had shrugged it off, and Shane had left Woolly’s with a black eye.
The night had deteriorated after that. Some chick had claimed I was flirting with her boyfriend, so I had yanked a chunk of hair out of her head. Reggie had joined in and the place had gone nuts. The boyfriend had tried to pull me off his girlfriend and Stu had jumped him.
The police were called. Stu had thrown a barely conscious Dania over his shoulder and we had taken off out the back door and down a side street to evade arrest.
We had ended up back at my place where the party had continued. And by the time I had helped Reggie finish off a bottle of vodka, I had forgotten all about Freaky Flynn’s return.
I put my shoulders back, my chin high. I was a pro at looking confident. I was tough as nails and everyone knew it. Messing with me was a bad idea. I had a reputation in Wellsburg. Particularly after my stint in detention, people tended to stay away from me. Those with good sense anyway.
I used my fists first and my brain later. My mouth often landing me in trouble that I took care of with my steel-toed boots. I never shied away from confrontation. The scars underneath my chin and at the hairline by my ear proved that.
I didn’t like feeling uncomfortable. I didn’t like feeling anything. This guy needed to get what he came for and get out.
“Can I help you?” I asked belligerently. The man stood at the end of the aisle putting things in a basket. His back was to me and all I could see was the stooped bend of his shoulders beneath a long sleeved blue shirt, which seemed strange in the middle of July. His hair was dark and messy and he looked to be of average height. He wasn’t overly muscular, nor was he slight. He seemed to have a medium build with a nice definition to his arms.
He didn’t turn around at the sound of my voice. He continued to choose items from the shelf and carefully placed them in the basket, ignoring me.
“Hey! I asked you something!” I called out walking toward him. The man shuffled away and slipped into the next aisle, his sneakers shrieking against the smooth flooring. Why did I get the feeling he was running away from me?
Well, I did have that effect on people.
My general sense of disquiet increased as I followed him. He was still putting things in his basket but I noticed his movements were now jerky and less controlled. But he kept his face turned away from me.
I reached out to take the basket from him. “What the f**k is your problem?” I barked, giving the basket a hard wrench.
The guy ripped it out of my hands and then promptly dropped it on the floor with a loud clang. It tipped to the side. Tubes of toothpaste, a box of crackers, and several sleeves of chocolate chip cookies rolled across the floor.
“You need to pick that up, you know,” I commanded. The guy was already hurrying out of the store.
Forgetting about the spilled groceries, I scrambled after him.
He pushed his way outside and practically ran down the sidewalk. I stood in the open doorway, watching him, bewildered by the strange encounter. The hot summer air was suffocating in its warmth. Humidity bearing down on me like a blanket.
The dark haired guy waited for a car to drive past and then crossed the road. I thought about yelling after him. Maybe following him and making him clean up his mess. I was feeling edgy and wanted to take it out on someone. I wasn’t picky whether it was a stranger or not.
But then the guy stopped and looked back at me.
And I froze.
I knew that face.
It was a face I had hoped I’d never see again.
The face I hated, blamed and missed in equal measure. A face I hadn’t seen since that night six years ago when my entire life changed.
Why had he come back here?
I didn’t really care.
All I knew was that Freaky Flynn was back in Wellsburg.
The man who had ruined my life.
2
-Ellie-
My head felt like it would split in two. Welcome to hangover hell. I rolled over in bed, the small action making me groan. Every. Single. Part. Of. Me. Hurt.
Seeing Flynn Hendrick last night, after six years of trying to forget him, had served as a catalyst for some good ole fashioned self-destructive behavior. Something I was extremely good at.
I had closed up JAC’s and headed to Woolley’s bar, where it was packed with the drunk and stupid crowd. Of which my friends were the leaders of the bunch.
Dania was slumped over in a booth, her pregnant belly poking out from underneath a shirt that was way too small for her growing body. Her eyes were closed and a bottle of beer had tipped over into her lap. Craig, the sleaze, was nowhere to be found. I guess he had gotten what he wanted and f**ked off. Such was Dania’s way with the opposite sex.
I had joined the rest of the group, my nerves jangled and my anger piping hot. Shane Nolan, the guy who had taken my virginity when I was fourteen and had been trying to get in my pants ever since, was making out with our friend Regina, aka Reggie, Fisher on the other side of a passed out Dania.
I had sat down beside Stu Wooten, a guy with a police record to rival mine¸ and stole his beer. He didn’t blink, only raised a hand to get the waitress’s attention and ordered us a round of shots.
I got drunk. Really, really drunk. And then I had gotten rowdy. Shane, once he realized I was there, had shoved Reggie away and spent the rest of the night groping my ass. I had ended up punching him. Reggie and Stu laughed, I had shrugged it off, and Shane had left Woolly’s with a black eye.
The night had deteriorated after that. Some chick had claimed I was flirting with her boyfriend, so I had yanked a chunk of hair out of her head. Reggie had joined in and the place had gone nuts. The boyfriend had tried to pull me off his girlfriend and Stu had jumped him.
The police were called. Stu had thrown a barely conscious Dania over his shoulder and we had taken off out the back door and down a side street to evade arrest.
We had ended up back at my place where the party had continued. And by the time I had helped Reggie finish off a bottle of vodka, I had forgotten all about Freaky Flynn’s return.
