She was absolutely stunning. Walking down the beach with an air of casual confidence, she let her feet taste the water first. Her sundress flowed with the wind showing emphasizing her small frame and long legs. I was lucky that her attention was directed at the boats so she didn't realized I was staring. For a moment she just stared out at the horizon and creating small circles with her feet under the water. Slowly and completely distracted I began rubbing the sunscreen on my right leg and then my left. Looking back at her, she had moved deeper into the water and was weaving her thick, curly hair through her fingers. She secured her loose french braid with a dark hair elastic and swiftly removed her dress.
With the grace of a ballerina, she threw her dress onto the sand, straighten the straps of her turquoise bathing suit top, and dived into the water. It was obvious she was a strong swimmer from the beginning. Each stroke cut through the water and her breathing was rhythmic. She reached the bouys and then swam under them and for a few moments she seemed to have disappeared until I saw her climbing onto a blue boat sparkling under the sun and swaying under the gentle waves. Dripping wet, she climbed into the boat and reemerged with a long white towel. After allowing the towel to blow freely in the breeze, she smoothed it out onto the glistening front nose of the boat and laid under the sun.
Remember my novel lying in the sand, I picked it back up and relaxed back into my green beach chair. Two pages later, I realized that although my eyes were scanning the words I hadn't actually read anything. I knew that boat and belonged to Mark, the campground heartthrob. She must be his girlfriend then to be so comfortable climbing onto the boat that he prized so dearly. Considering the size of the tiny, private campground and the fact that Mark was a "weekender" like myself, it was strange that I'd never seen her before. Having admired Mark from afar as he worked on his boats or practiced tricks on his jetski, it was hard not to pay attention the beautiful girl who was currently laying on his boat.
Redoubling my efforts upon reading my book, I tried to force her out of my mind. Of course she would be someone he'd go for; her grace, poise and beauty would be hard for anyone to resist. Not to mention her body. It was impossible not to think about her and unable to even pretend to read, I looked back up. She had positioned herself into the warrior pose; one leg was bent at a ninety degree angle while the other stretched straight behind her and she was reaching toward the sun with both hands causing her back to arch slightly. She looked positively picturesque as if she were posing to be on the cover of some Yoga World magazine.
My initial admiration had quickly turned into jealously. What a show-off posing like that on the boat so that everyone on the beach could see her. It was something I could only wish was possible for me. Closing my eyes, I saw myself as her. Being watched with rapt attention, captivated by the beauty of my figure. She was able to move herself into yoga positions that I had only fruitlessly attempted but unable to keep my balance would always end up on the floor. I envisioned myself moving from one position to another on the bow of the boat; Mark completely captivated as he worked on restoring another watercraft. What a life she must have; able to get anyone she wanted.
A quiet splashed caused me to open my eyes with a start. She was no longer on the boat and the white towel, which I now realized was a yoga mat had been put away too. Although there was relief that she was gone, I couldn't help but enjoy my fantasy inspired solely by her. In the distance, I saw her make her way out of the water, grabbed her dress, and race to the back of the beach where her bag sat under a tree. With a carefree air, she quickly stopped the water from dripping with the towel, slipped on her flip flops, and made way to cross the street back toward the campground.
Turning back toward the lake, it was my turn to stare out at the horizon. The feeling of annoyance seemed to linger with me more than any other. Mark was dating her; the girl who was everything I want to be. It's no wonder he hardly ever speaks to me. Every time I've made eye contact with him this year, I felt a rush of hope that maybe he'd talk to me, but all I ever received was a short "hi" as he sped past or looked away. How could he be interested when he had her? The waves no longer felt comfortable and sitting on this chair for any longer now seemed impossible. I shoved my feet into my sandals and my book into my bag. Thankfully, it was still early enough that I didn't have to bring my stuff back to the campsite just yet. I just wanted to walk, get out the frustration. Carry a bag full of beach supplies and a large bulky chair just wouldn't do.
Storming up the beach, I ran across the street. The simple run in this heat winded me and I felt the energy drain as I continue to walk toward the campground. The grains of sand stuck to my feet like salt on a french fry and after only I few steps, it became clear that I was too upset for it not to bother me. I got to the washroom which served as a community bathroom and shower with a foot washing station in center. Just as I turned on the water, I saw her again. She had clearly just taken a shower as her long curly hair now hang wet and dripping over her shoulders and her dress was back on.
This time, she caught me looking and smiled, "Hi, how are you?" she said brightly at me. I felt my throat constrict and suddenly it felt like I was unable to speak. For a few seconds, I stood like staring at her like an idiot before finally croaking, "um... hi.. I'm okay, you?" Apparently used to people staring at her mindlessly, she responded, "Oh, it's just gorgeous here. I'm so glad my cousin invited me up. You might know him. He's a regular here. His name is Mark" Before she finished her sentenced I blurted out, "I know him" and felt my ears getting warm from embarrassment. "Oh awesome!" she beamed. "What's your name? My name is Miranda."
Was she seriously his cousin? I could feel my anger and resentment slip away as I reached out to shake her now extended hand, "Annabel." She pulled back in excited surprise, "Annabel Watling?" she asked curiously. Completely taken aback, all I could do was nod. How'd she know my name? "Yes, I see now why Mark talks about you all the time, you're gorgeous! Oh, but don't tell him I told you, he'll kill me. Anyway, I really must go, our grandparents are expecting us for lunch. It was great meeting you!" Then just as quickly, she turned and ran up the hill toward her grandparents' trailer.
Stunned, I felt unable to move. Was she for real? Did she really think I was "gorgeous?" But then, she wouldn't have any reason to lie. Thinking back, I did remember her vaguely. She had come up a few years back with her family and it suddenly all seemed to come together. My heart seemed to flutter within my chest and I felt my self-consciousness melt away. Someone who looked like her called me gorgeous and indicated that Mark might actually think so too. Forgetting about the sand on my feet, I continued on toward our campsite excited by all the new fantasies that were beginning to take shape within my head.
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