Somehow though, this place couldn’t seem to get away from the threatening clouds that seemed to hover around night and day.
“Hey Jazz you having fun yet?”
“I am.” I shielded my eyes from the sunlight’s glare as Mark’s hulking body dropped down on the sand next to me.
“So, what made you change your mind about coming? You didn’t say.”
I shrugged my shoulders because there was really nothing much to say on the subject; nothing that anyone would understand anyway.
“Well, whatever it was I’m glad you came; I’m surprised that your friend didn’t tag along.” He looked around as if searching for someone. I knew exactly whom he meant, but feigned ignorance.
“Who’re you talking about? I just moved here, I don’t know anyone, not really.”
“You know, your new boyfriend.” He smirked and brushed my shoulder with his, but I could see it in his eyes that he was serious.
“What’s with Azarov anyway?” I played with the sand at my feet so that he couldn’t read my expression and see the hunger there, the need to know. Once again I felt that strange breeze against my nape and ear, but ignored it this time.
“No one knows, he and his family showed up here just a few months before you did. Everyone thinks he’s hot shit because they’re rich and he’s some type of boy genius or some shit from Europe somewhere.”
So I’d been right when I’d been trying to place his accent. Something niggled at the back of my mind, but like a leaf in the breeze it escaped me and as usual, I let it go.
We exchanged small talk about the area and school and what else the kids did for fun. I didn’t feel any danger from Mark, but there was something there beneath the surface, almost as if I was doing something forbidden.
By now the others were eating and drinking and horsing around. We’d been here for a few hours already, but it felt like time had flown by without me noticing.
If I were honest with myself I’d admit that I kept expecting him to show up here. With each hour that passed with no sign of him, the day lost more and more of its pleasure.
I’d become a junkie, but this junkie had only been teased with her drug, only to have it snatched away without warning.
Now I spend my days and nights fiending for him, just a look, a touch, even just to hear his voice one more time.
I fought back unnecessary tears and concentrated on Mark and what he was saying. That…man-boy, or whatever he was, is of no interest to me and I hope he stays out of my stupid dreams from now on too, the jerk.
“Say you want to come out to my place later, we’re having a bonfire?”
“Sure that sounds like fun I...”
A strong gust of wind kicked up the sand around us and blew hats and umbrellas across the beach. My heart went into overdrive and I looked around frantically, but of course he wasn’t here.
I felt like bursting into tears for some unknown reason, the joy of the day now gone completely. Not only because of the sudden dark cloud that covered the sky, but also because I knew that somehow, he was so near and yet so far.
I bit my lip in frustration, as I got to my feet ready to take flight. Maybe the pixie had been right after all; maybe I should’ve obeyed.
“Um maybe some other time Mark, thanks anyway.” I brushed the sand off as I tried to make my escape. My heart was heavy and I felt like screaming, but what would that solve?
“Sure Jazz, I guess I’ll see you around.” He headed back to his friends who’d been off by themselves doing something with a monster of a kite.
I gathered up my stuff and prepared to go, the others planned to be here for a while yet, but the joy had gone out of the day for me, so there was no use staying.
I said my goodbyes amidst a few mumbles of protest, but I made my escape without too much ado.
What was really going on with me anyway? And how was it, that I could feel his presence, when he wasn’t even there?
I’ve read of strange phenomena occurring in the world, in fact I’m obsessed with stories of unnatural happenings. But I’ve never been on the receiving end of anything even remotely supernatural.
And there I go getting fanciful again. I thought I’d put those days behind me, but I was wrong. Days of make believe and pretend.
Hours spent creating a world from my own unlimited imagination. When you were raised practically as a reclusive nomad, imagination was about all you had.
Chapter 7
All the way back I couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched, which spooked me, since most of the drive was on another deserted stretch of road, with nothing but tall trees on either side, and there was no car behind me this time.