So funny story: I set the beach scene blogfest thinking I would certainly have a nice beach scene by now. After all, my current project takes place at a lake resort with a beach. A beach scene is inevitable.

But…so far there is no beachiness in So97. So I sat down this morning and took about 15 minutes to pound out a scene specifically for this. It uses the characters from So97 and at some point might make it into the actual manuscript (I am sure some seriously edited variation of it will), but for now it is just a free-standing scene.

Enjoy!

“We’re almost there.” Weston looked over his shoulder at me, his grin like a little kid’s. I had never seen him like this before; normally he was all business and propriety.

I stepped over another log – probably the 5th in as many minutes – and checked my watch: 11:15. “Um, where is there exactly? We have a ride in half an hour and we still need to saddle up.”

Weston laughed. Really? Mister We-have-to-make-this-place-more-professional laughed at me wanting to be on time? I will never understand some people. He hopped onto another log, nestled between two bushes, and turned to face me.

“Relax, Sam. The Worthingtons cancelled. We are free for the afternoon. Thus,” he held his hand out to me, “a picnic. I found this little place when I was surveying the grounds last week and thought it would be perfect.”

I took his hand and followed him over the log. Past the bushes, it was like entering a different world; in one stride, we put the forest behind us.

The sun glinted off the water, making each ripple glitter. The beach itself was only about twenty feet wide and completely surrounded by bushes, but the sand was pure and golden, like it had been untouched. I looked around, but from the beach I see no boats, no cabins, nobody. It’s like we’re completely alone in the world.

My gaze followed Weston as he crossed the beach and sat on a sun-bleached log. Wait. I recognized that log. I looked around again, and it slowly came back to me.

“Dead-Fish Beach.”

“What?” I looked at Weston, who was looking at me like I was crazy.

“Dead-Fish Beach,” I repeated, more loudly. “When we were little, we would all have competitions to see who could find the most fresh-water clams. One year, Rory and I sneaked off into the woods and found this place. We totally won – there were so many clams out there.”

Weston looked a little crestfallen. Was he trying to show me something new here? I realized then that it must be hard for him trying to fit in with a group of people who practically grew up here. It probably didn’t help that Rory and Karissa treated him like a total outsider. And, okay, so did I.

He cleared his throat. “So, um, why Dead-Fish Beach?” His smile looked forced. Did it really upset him that I had been here before?

“When we first found this place, there was a dead fish on it.”

“Creative.”

“Whatever. We were eight.”

He laughed, and suddenly he was back to normal. Maybe I had been imagining that he was upset. We sat together on the log and ate the lunch he brought – egg-salad sandwiches, chips, watermelon, and (I couldn’t help but notice) two fruit roll-ups for me.

When we finished, Weston gestured toward the water. “I’ve decided we can’t go back until you find me ten clams.”

“What?” He couldn’t be serious.

“Hey, you are the one who was bragging about how many clams are out there. Prove it.” His smile held a hint of a challenge.

“Okay, fine.” I kicked my shoes off and rolled my pant legs up to my knees. I loved wading in the water; if we didn’t have to work, this was a pretty good way to spend my time.

Seven clams later, the wind picked up. My hair blew around my face – why did I grow it long, again? – and stuck to my lip gloss. Seriously, I am talking half a head of hair stuck to my mouth here. And my hands totally covered with mud. After a few attempts of brushing the hair away with my shoulders, I admitted defeat and turned to Weston.

“A little help here?”

He was already taking his shoes off.

He waded out to me, and stood a little closer than necessary. Not that I minded. He swept my hair out of my face, but didn’t take his hand back. He locked eyes with me, that look of hunger I am so familiar with on his face, as he cupped my neck in his hand. His warmth radiated around me, and the old tingling sensation began in the pit of my stomach. I forgot how much I loved that feeling.

I took a step closer to him, letting our bodies touch just barely. The tingling left my stomach and traveled through my whole body; my skin buzzed with goose-bumps. Did he feel it too?

Weston lowered his head to mine. We stood there, forehead-to-forehead, for almost longer than I could stand. Each breath he took caressed my skin, and my body screamed for him. I lifted my head to finally take the kiss I needed so badly.

Our lips brushed slightly, and then it was over. Weston’s hand was no longer on my neck, I couldn’t feel him near me at all. I opened my eyes to see him backing away from me.

“Rory,” is all he said. He was stopping because of Rory? Sure, maybe there was something between Rory and I, but we definitely weren’t together. I was free to kiss anyone I wanted. I opened my mouth to tell West this – to tell him that I wanted to kiss him, but he motioned with his head to a spot behind me.

I turned around to see Rory coming around the bend in a canoe.

Now go read everyone else’s scenes! I am going to work on editing this beast.