3 - SAND

Disclaimer: not mine.


She is fit and fast. He is persistent and catching up. The rising waves push and pull against her legs, and his shoes are filling up with wet sand.

The odds are evening out.

She hears him yelling but can't make out his words. He hears her laughing but doesn't quite understand her happiness – nor the thrill that's taken hold of him amidst this pain- and joyful beach sprinting madness. He's never felt anything quite like this before.

As the waves retreat, he gets closer again. He lunges for her. She screams and laughs, avoiding his hand by mere inches. She playfully splashes water at him and he recoils - a little too late -, stumbling backwards.

At least he manages to retrieve his balance.

With a sleeve still dry, he wipes water off his face and she laughs. 'Just wait until I get you,' he yells over the loud sea, pointing a finger at her.

'Oh, I'm waiting,' she yells back, toying with him - merciless, laughing, infuriating, and beautiful.

Another fat wave creeps in, forcing him to back away even further. She starts running. Barely, but he keeps up. He will chase her around Saint Marie if that's what it takes. What it is, he's no longer sure. His lungs hurt but his heart refuses to forfeit. He tastes salt on his lips and her laughter rings in his ear, mixing with the noise of green waves, rushing blood and drum-like heartbeats. He keeps crossing the ever-moving, messy line between sand and sea, but she always seems to be just beyond his reach.

He's too cautious. Too afraid.

After a few yards, however, he decides to chance ending up in the water – or worse. There might be an army of toothy, spiky, deadly things lying in wait but she will be there with him, too.

And with her around, anxiety no longer gets to grasp him so tightly.

All of a sudden, luck and the elements side with him. She lets out a joyful scream as his arm hooks around her waist. He lifts and pulls her away from the water. But he's exhausted. And he trips.

He stumbles, he falls, pulling her with him.

He lands on the mushy ground with a muffled, wet thud and a groan. She lands on top of him with a sharp cry of laughter. He's desperate for air and, at first, doesn't seem to take much notice of the gross amount of nature surrounding him – nor the body pressed against his.

She is giggling uncontrollably. He is breathing hard, his chest rising and falling beneath her. 'I…' he tries to speak but can't.

Playfully, she leans closer. 'What? I can't hear you.'

'Switch… it… back!' he demands weakly, his words and cluttered breaths mashing together like sand and sea.

She looks down at him, her breathing already normalizing. 'No,' she refuses. It's a "no" full of smiling and teasing.

Sharp green meets soft brown.

Then his head falls back on the sand. He closes his eyes, trying to catch his breath. 'I won,' he squeezes out.

'Oh, I beg to differ.'

She's got a point – one which he's only beginning to fully comprehend. She's shifted a bit to let him breathe freely but she's still straddling his thighs and pinning him to the sand.

Sand.

His eyes pop open. He is starting to freak out. 'Camille…'

He doesn't have to say more. She already knows. 'It is just sand.' He opens his mouth to voice his disagreement but she cuts him off. 'Or shall I call an ambulance?' Her mocking appears to resonate with him and he swallows his bitter complaints with a frown. Besides, there's another priority.

Air. He needs more air. A lot more.

His hand reaches for his tie. 'Let me,' she tells him and after a moment of hesitation, he lets her. Their hands brush and her fingers pull apart the knot. The tie slides off from around his neck and she undoes the top two buttons on his shirt. 'Better?' she asks.

Yes. 'No.'

'Liar.'

They are two tangled bodies glued together by sand and a new-found peculiarity: an unwillingness to move. He's exhausted, he tells himself but it's not the only reason keeping him stuck in wet dirt. A pleasant, warm weight helps, too. His right hand rests on her left calf. He might not be aware of it but she most definitely is. His fingers lightly stroke her skin.

Or maybe he is aware of it.

He glances up at her and her giggling quiets down. It's a brief moment full of sand, breathing and wanting. He watches her. Studies her with a mixture of mild apprehension, hesitant need, and keen interest. Slowly, her hand touches his face and she gently tries to brush some sand off of his cheek.

She ends up smearing it with even more.

And he freaks out. 'Camille!'

'I'm sorry.' She isn't really. She's giggling again. Her focus wavers and he doesn't hesitate. He grabs her wrists and with one swift move, he rolls her over.

Now it's her turn to get pinned between a warm body and the soft ground but she isn't complaining. Her laughter retreats into a quiet, bright smile. 'Not bad,' she compliments him.

'When you're the smallest in school, you pick up some skills,' he explains, still somewhat breathless. She could flip him back to his back but decides to let him enjoy this little moment of triumph.

He's earned it.

But he doesn't abuse her kindness. Soon he's back on his feet, offering her his hand. She takes it with a grin – never one to miss an opportunity to touch him. He pulls her up but his sandy grasp lingers – as does his gaze. For a short while. Then he pulls back his hand and glances away, clearing his throat. 'We should probably head back,' he says, looking in his shack's direction.

'Yes,' she agrees, brushing some sand off of her clothes. 'Here.' She hands him his tie and he accepts it with a small nod.


When they get back, Fidel and Dwayne are nowhere to be found. She walks up to the veranda with him in tow. There's a small piece of paper pinned to the door. He takes it off and reads it out loud. '"Went to get more beer." Hm.' He notes it with pursed lips, then glances at her. 'Well, another mystery solved,' he declares. She chuckles and starts to walk inside.

'No, no, no, wait! Wait!'

She turns back. 'What?'

'I'd prefer it if most of the sand stayed outside,' he explains.

She rolls her eyes but indulges him. She starts brushing it out of her hair and off of her clothes and skin. He takes off his shoes and socks, then untucks his shirt.

She goes still with surprise. 'What are you doing?' she asks, a grin already forming on her face.

He stops, too, and looks at her with furrowed brows. Then he gets it and rolls his eyes. 'Don't worry. I'm not undressing.'

Teasingly, she raises an eyebrow.

He gives her a pointed look, then proceeds to shake sand out of the creases in his shirt, demonstrating why he needed to untuck it. She steps closer and brushes off his shoulders, then playfully ruffles his hair and chuckles - it's quiet and soft like the fingers combing through his hair. Sand is everywhere. He hesitates at first, then his hand reaches for her. She's missed a few spots, too. Carefully and awkwardly, he helps to clean off those sandy parts. Her shoulder, her arms, then… his hand freezes for a brief moment but a smile lets him know it's okay. His thumb caresses her cheek, then the back of his index finger gently trails down and along her neck, making her pulse quicken.

'We're back!' Dwayne yells from a distance.

Richard withdraws his hand but his eyes remain on Camille, and Camille's on him - both trying to enjoy this moment for a little while longer.

'We bought more beer.' Fidel's voice is coming from somewhere inside now.

Camille runs her hand along Richard's arm, giving him one last caress, then turns to join the others. He follows her with a slight frown on his face.

A frown that now hides a smile.