2. familiar face

I avoided the beach like it was the plague. I stayed in my bedroom, lying in bed, for the majority of the next few days, just thinking about nothing, everything, and something. There were too many thoughts going through my mind at once so I tried to sleep. It was hard to pick one thought, process it, file it away, and repeat the process all over again for the next one. It was better – and easier – to ignore everything. When that didn’t work, I simply laid in bed with my earphones plugged into my ears, blasting my music until I was uncomfortable.

I don’t like confrontations. I don’t like being put on the spot, nor did I like putting other people on the spot. Confrontations made me feel uncomfortable, stressed, and anxious. Which is why I avoided thinking about my failure that night and focused on literally anything that caught my attention. I had no energy to socialize with anyone, including my family, but I did have the energy to clean my room, rearrange it, and redecorate it.

It’s weird how the brain functions. It’s weird how I could be on the precipice of suicide but I could simultaneously put my old posters of One Direction onto the opposite wall so that the pictures wouldn’t fade from the sunlight hitting it.

I finally made my way downstairs. It was a quiet afternoon with both my uncle and aunt gone at work. My uncle owned his own garage shop and spent the majority of his time there, even when there weren’t many cars to work on. His shop was his second home. My aunt, on the other hand, worked at the local high school as an English teacher. It was almost comical how my aunt, a petite, bubbly and sweet person, ended up with my burly, emotionless uncle. They were complete opposites yet they both suited each other.

I guess that’s what it’s like to be in love.

I stepped into the kitchen and grabbed my mug and began making a cup of coffee. The house was quiet but the world outside seemed boisterous and loud. The storm had passed, disappearing after two days of torrential downpour. People were back outside, enjoying the day. It wasn’t entirely too sunny but it wasn’t as cloudy either. The beach, surprisingly, wasn’t all that packed either, which was definitely a rare sight.

Once my coffee was ready, I threw on my trusty black cardigan over my spaghetti strap and flannel pajama pants and made my way outside after pocketing my phone and keys. I found myself walking back to the pier, sitting down at the edge.

It was weird to be staring out at the same space I almost died in. Unlike the previous time I was here, the waves weren’t as rough. Everything was calm and breezy. The waves danced to a slower tune this time. I let my legs dangle freely as I let myself reminisce about that night as I took a few sips of my coffee. The familiar feeling of heaviness in my chest returned, but not as hard.

I didn’t know what I was more upset about, the fact that I was saved or the fact that this makes it the third time I failed.

“Are you planning on jumping again?” a familiar voice interrupted. I jumped in surprise, nearly splashing my coffee onto my skin.

I let out a sigh and didn’t turn to face him, simply shaking my head. “If I was, I wouldn’t do it in broad daylight,” I mumbled, more to myself than him.

He came over and sat down next to me, his hand gripping onto the pier tightly, as if he was afraid of falling in. The thought brought a faint smile to my lips ironically. The same guy who had jumped into the ocean to save me during a storm was afraid of accidentally falling into the same ocean on a day where the waves moved like leaves in a breeze.

“Roman,” he said. I glanced up at him with a questioning gaze. “My name.”

“Abigail,” I said. He nodded.

I sipped my coffee slowly, taking a moment to savor the bitter taste as I watched the water move. He didn’t say anything and neither did I. I wanted to question him, ask him why he’s sitting with me, if he was trying to protect me again, if he was waiting for me to do something; but I refrained from doing so. He wasn’t doing any harm or annoying me.

“What’s your favorite color?” he asked, breaking the silence.

I was quiet for a moment, pondering the question and the randomness, but I went with it anyway. He began picking at the board, playing with the wood. He rain his fingers through his hair, glancing at my occasionally as he waited.

“Black,” I said, taking a sip of my coffee. He nodded slowly.

“You know,” he mused, “My grandmother used to say that black isn’t a color.”

“It’s the absence of light, I know,” I murmured in response.

He was quiet for a moment before he turned to face me. I set down my nearly empty cup and retuned his faze.

Roman was quite attractive. It was easier to see him now that there was light out that wasn’t from an iPhone. You could easily tell that he was sporty based off his toned body that was out on display. He was in just a pair of red shorts, similar to the type lifeguards wear. His eyes were a striking shade of blue with grey flecks swirling around. There was a faint scar right above his left eyebrow you wouldn’t be able to notice unless you were standing or sitting as close as I was to him. His chiseled jaw was covered in a faint stubble that trained down his neck a little.

“Why are you here?” I asked.

Roman raised an eyebrow. “It’s the beach.”

I briefly shut my eyes. It was like he was taunting me. “I mean why are you here, sitting with me? Is this going to be your thing now? To follow me and make sure I don’t jump again?” I couldn’t help myself. Something about Roman irked me and it wasn’t entirely because he ruined my plans. However, he didn’t seem fazed about my little outburst, which kind of annoyed me.

“You intrigue me.”

I sat there for a moment, stunned. I blinked before grabbing my things. I got up and walked away. Something about his answer had made me feel entirely uneasy. Something also told me that if I stayed any longer with him, I’d be in trouble. So, I left. I went home and locked myself back into my room like I should’ve done.