18. No. 18 Swim in the sea
eighteen
August
It’s been a week, a really fucking busy week.
Bea’s been opening the café every day with limited food and drinks options, and of course, the whole village has been showing their support and probably falling in love with Bea as they do.
I’ve had a packed work week, travelling out of the village every day to take on good paying jobs that have kept me out until late.
Bea and I have seen each other, I’ve eaten dinner with her, we went to the pub for a drink, and Mum insisted Bea join us for Sunday dinner again.
But I’ve spent each of the last seven nights alone in my own bed—apart from that one night Darcy decided he was going to try his luck and sleep with me and I was too exhausted to argue with the stubborn mutt.
Eli has been ribbing me all week, jokes about me having an extra pep in my step, not recognising me with a smile on my face, that kind of thing.
He’s a dick. But I love him. I didn’t need to tell him what had happened between Bea and I, he knew the moment I saw him the next day.
Joanie took longer to figure out I was apparently acting differently but made a comment yesterday that leads me to believe she suspects something.
When I popped in the café to get a coffee on Tuesday and Bea and I got trapped in a smiling stare off, Connor made a comment that earnt him a smack upside the head, but suffice to say, word has got around that Bea and I have passed the line of friendship and, of course, the gossip has been rife.
Even that hasn’t wiped the smile from my face.
“How is dear Bea?” Ruth asks with a smug smirk over the rim of her steaming mug as I rig up the new laundry hanger she bought; it’s one that suspends from the ceiling, and she can lower it to put the clothes on and pull it up and out of the way while they dry.
It’s old fashioned and vintage looking, and I really like it; I might have to get one.
“How would I know?” I grumble even though the cat was let out the bag days ago and pretending is pointless.
“Because you’ve been spending a lot of time with her.”
“Not a lot,” I lie. “Just a normal amount.”
“Are you being purposefully obtuse, August?” Ruth sighs.
“Yes,” I admit. “It serves you right for partaking in gossip.”
“I’m eighty-two years old, dear boy, gossip is the only hobby that doesn’t risk a broken hip.” She flicks an imaginary crumb from the countertop and gives me a pointed look.
“Try knitting,” I gripe, screwing in the last screw and giving the pulley a little tug to demonstrate it does work.
Ruth claps once. “Excellent, thank you, dear.”
I throw my screwdriver back into my toolbox and take my own mug, wincing at the taste of Ruth’s high quality but still instant coffee.
A week of Bea making me the proper thing with that fancy machine of hers and I’m now a snob.
Ruth, not missing a thing and seeming to understand the nuance of that one micro expression, grins smugly.
“Ruth,” I groan. “Stop.”
“I didn’t say anything,” she hums, trying to hide her smile behind her mug again.
“And you’re not saying it very loudly,” I complain.
“August, you are beaming,” she says seriously. “People are happy for you, we want to see you happy, dear. After what happened with—”
“No,” I say sharply. “We’re not talking about that.”
“Have you told Bea about that?”
“Christ,” I groan. “We’ve only been…spending time together for a week.”
“Oh, you’ve been spending time together for longer than that. I assume you mean you’ve been screwing for a week.”
“Jesus,” I bury my face in my hands.
“It might not have been long, but it takes mere moments to know when someone is going to be special to you. Bea is special.” She says it so matter of fact, like she has decided for me.
“I’d like to come to that conclusion myself,” I say, wearily. “I don’t want whispers around us determining what we are. I don’t want to feel like I’ve let everyone down when I do something to mess things up.”
“What makes you think you’ll mess things up?” she says gently.
“One of us will.” I shrug. “That’s the way most relationships go.”
“So, you admit you’re in a relationship?”
I glare at her, and she cackles delightedly. “You’re insufferable.”
“And you’re too serious. Lighten up, boy. The village loves you, we see you, and we’re behind you. Just relax and enjoy your time with the girl. If the whispers get too loud, I’ll silence them.” She winks at me, and I can’t help the smile she draws from me.
“I’m not sure about this.” Bea’s face scrunches, her jaw working over her cheek.
“What exactly aren’t you sure about?” I push my sweats down my legs.
“Umm,” she hums, frowning at the view. “I’m not sure I’ll like it rough.”
“I’m afraid rough is all I can offer right now.” I tug my shirt up and over my head.
Bea still doesn’t look at me, her eyes trained on the horizon as she unbuttons her denim shorts and slowly pushes them down, her hips shimmying in a way my cock certainly enjoys. “I don’t want to get hurt.”
“Sunshine,” I say gently, stepping to her and curling my finger beneath her chin.
“I wouldn’t put you in any danger, I promise it’s quite safe.
” When she looks up at me with worry in those beautiful sky blues, I try very hard not to let my smirk break free.
“It’s not spiders or toilet snakes; you should be fine. ”
Steely determination takes over her features and she nods once, swiping her own shirt off and taking my hand as I lead her toward the shore. “You know, when I added swimming in the sea to the list, I had the Mediterranean in mind, not the Bristol Channel.”
I smile as we make our way over the pebbled beach toward the water. “Ah, but you didn’t specify, so we’re going to swim in the waters on our doorstep and then you can cross another item off the bucket list.”
“Fuck-It list,” she corrects.
“Right.”
“It’s going to be cold, isn’t it?” Bea says as we get to where the water laps vigorously on the shingled shoreline.
“Freezing.”
“And those waves look rather angry.” She bites her lip, the wind whipping the pink strands that have fallen loose from her braid around her face.
She’s wearing a pale-yellow bikini with cherries printed on it.
My eyes rake over all of her on display, including the small tattoo of an open book, dragons flying from the pages inked onto her leg where her upper thigh meets her hip just below the line of her bikini bottoms.
“Waves are just waves, sunshine. They can’t be angry or sad or any other emotion. I promise you’ll be fine. You can swim, can’t you?” I check, suddenly feeling nervous that I’ve underestimated what a big deal this might be for her.
“Of course I can swim,” she huffs. “It’s just I’ve only ever done it in a pool, where the water stays still and there aren’t any number of sea creatures to get between your toes.” She does a haughty shoulder shuffle that has me pulling her to me with a chuckle.
She gasps but braces herself with her palms on my pecs, looking up at me with pursed lips that barely contain her smile. “Okay,” she concedes. “Let’s do this. It might take me a while to get in though.”
“Nope,” I snip, dipping to wrap an arm around the backs of her thighs and lifting her until she falls over my shoulder with a squeal.
I smack her arse with a satisfying crack.
“We don’t have time for dawdling, sunshine, we’re having dinner together tonight and then I plan on spending all night making you come. ”
“Oh my god,” she laughs. “Put me down.”
“Nah, this way you can’t chicken out.”
“I won’t chicken out!” she shrieks as I step into the frigid waters.
Fuck my life, I haven’t done this since I was a teenager and I forgot how fucking cold it actually is.
But I march on until the water slaps at my thighs, and I bring Bea back to my front and force her legs around my waist. With a few more steps, her arse is subjected to the surface of the water.
She flinches, trying to climb higher on my body to escape but I hold her steady and laugh. “You ready?”
“No, August, don’t—” She’s shaking her head, but I just hold her tight and bend my knees until we’re both submerged to our shoulders.
It’s fucking awful. Despite the warm June afternoon and blaring sunshine, the water feels like an ice bath, but it’s worth it because Bea screams, clinging on to me so tight I can feel the decadent warmth of her pussy against my stomach despite the temperatures around us.
“You swine!” Bea wheezes, but she’s laughing too and an overwhelming feeling of joy and ease washes over me with the waves.
“I don’t know,” I say, bringing my lips to her ear and sucking the lobe into my mouth like she enjoyed so much the other night. “I’m rather enjoying myself.” I pull her down a little, thrusting my hips up so she can feel what her proximity is doing to me.
Turning her face to mine, she kisses me, the cold forgotten as we sip at each other’s lips in slow, tender sucks and strokes.
Palming the back of her head, I keep her where I want her, tangling fingers into the woven braid there while my other hand grips her arse, holding her up and pressing her further into my hardening cock.
The moment is broken with one particularly large wave that splashes between us, spraying cold water in both of our faces.
We pull apart and I roll my lips between my teeth to bite back my laugh, Bea’s eyes are closed and her face drips with sea water, those loose strands of hair now plastered to her cheeks.
“Shut up,” she says, without opening her eyes and I crack, laughing out loud and drawing attention from a couple walking their dog along the pebbled beach. I chuckle and swipe the hair and water back, until those sparkling eyes meet mine, her smile free and warming.
“Come on, sunshine, a quick swim and then you’ve said Fuck-It for the day.”