Lilah dragged him out to the beach one day, late August, nearing the time when the streets near his apartment would be flooded with young children climbing on busses and packed off to school. He looked at her with disbelief, pointing out that going out in public was not only a terrible way to keep a secreted relationship from being discovered, but if she hadn't noticed he had absolutely no tan whatsoever. She just smirked at him and yanked him out the door.
It was funny how it was getting harder to say no to her.
The beach was crowded with mostly-naked young women vying for a piece of the sun and the attention of any even remotely attractive men. Wesley surveyed the scene, sitting down on the towel Lilah spread out, and proceeded to rest his body on his elbows. Lilah pulled the cooler she'd brought with them, and pulled out a beer. Wesley popped the can, looking at it with mild disgust, and took a long sip.
It was noisy, stereos warring for dominance and the mixed talking and laughter floated through the air, a droning backdrop for their people-watching. It occurred to him that this was quite possibly the first time he had ever come to the beaches for something similar to recreation. There had been a few cases that led out here, but it was usually the middle of the night, winter, and sludge was involved. Rarely picturesque.
Lilah slipped sunglasses over his eyes, and he snorted with bemusement at her. Oh, how his classmates would laugh at him now--a true Los Angelite, complete with sparkling oceans and sunglasses. They helped with the glare, so he didn't remove them, though he felt quite ridiculous. It was becoming something of a regular experience for him.
It was all too easy to roll over slightly when Lilah ran a hand up the back of his thin button-up. He rested his head on his arm and let her trace patterns on his back, the sunshine beating down on him--though it wasn't unpleasant, the heat. Soothing, really. Wesley figured it was easier to give in to this strange semblance of trust rather than question it; they'd spent three months nearly beating each other bloody, trying to prove to each other and themselves that they were the stable one in their admittedly fucked-up relationship. It didn't work; now they were at something of a stalemate where he could buy her half-caf vanilla macchiatos and she could bring her fingernails to his skin without flinching. Wesley thought this might be the healthiest relationship he'd ever had.
He dozed, then, for awhile. When the sun was setting, Lilah woke him up; and groggily he righted himself, pushing his sunglasses up on top of his head to watch the red-orange glow disappear on the horizon. It was pretty, and his hand seemed to slip into Lilah's of its own volition.
Tomorrow they would fuck against a wall, and there would be deep scratches where her kind hands were earlier, rough bruises on her hips from where he would brace his hands against her thighs, her hands grasping the wall scone for support. But that was tomorrow.
words © SA. characters, show, and people not mine. no infringement is intended.