Amy had been planning on swimming that day, but when she finally opened her eyes, several hours after she first lay down, she found that the sky had darkened and the beach was almost empty. She hadn't noticed the time pass by, hadn't noticed the people on the beach, hadn't had a care in the world; it was the most at peace she had ever felt in her whole life.
She sat up with a contented sigh and looked around. Some people were still on the beach, she could count four by eye, but they were couples, cuddling and cosy, making the most of the romantic resort. She sighed again, less contentedly, and stood up, slightly dizzy, and brushed herself down. She was covered in sand, who knows what state her hair was in right now, it would be hell to wash out.
After a few seconds she heard past the waves of the ocean and heard people, noisy people, happy people. She turned round and looked up the bay, seeing lights and movement. It was in walking distance, and although she felt she should probably go back to her room, to be a girl in mourning again, curiosity got the better of her – as it often did.
The destination was in easy walking distance, and within five minutes she found herself in what appeared to be a small party district. She could see pubs, clubs and bars, all along one promenade, with no other apparent commercial options. She smiled to herself, feeling like a teenager again.
As a Scottish girl with a long lost imaginary friend, Amy hadn't had much of a social life as a teenager. Sure, she had had Rory, but that was all; he was her only friend, and he never went for the clubbing scene. But she had seen it, on television, the lives of conventional teenagers, who went on holiday with their friends, who had fun, and danced, and drank, and did everything that she never had the chance to. Rory had never understood, everything he had ever wanted was right there in that village, he had always told her, they never needed anything outside of it. He had wanted a quiet life, she had always wanted to go out and see the stars, from a very young age.
And here she was, sans Rory, on holiday with a friend, with her pick of clubs and bars to choose from. She swallowed, despising herself for the way she was thinking of Rory, the strong feeling of guilt that was accompanying the sense of...
She pushed it away, and squared her jaw. "I can do this." She said to herself. "I am Amy Pond, and I can do this." She nodded to herself, confidant, and chose a door at random, the nearest to hand, and went inside.
Did I mention recently how much I love all you guys? No? LAAAAAVE YOU!