Seven

Bridge Over Troubled Water

It’s not so bad. All I have to do is make sure Noah doesn’t drown or take off his swim trunks and moon everyone, which for once doesn’t seem very probable because he’s way too preoccupied with the little fountains of water coming out of the ground.

So I snag a chair, put my headphones in, and take out my book. I don’t want to go into the water just yet. That would be too sudden. I have to be in the presence of the water first. Then I have to watch the water, and then I have to listen to the water. And finally, when we’ve become acquainted enough, I can feel the water. But it’s a very delicate process and it’s not to be rushed.

I’m determined to make this trip different than all the rest. Not just different. Better. Memorable. Fun.

Yes, the f-word.

“Would you like a towel, Miss?”

I look up to see a young man, eighteen maybe nineteen, smiling down at me with a few towels in his hand. The first thing I notice about him is that he’s Mexican. And it’s sad because I think he’s the first Mexican I’ve seen in our hotel. What ever happened to culture?

He’s wearing a white polo shirt that says MARIO right above the pocket. The white only makes him look tanner than he already is and it matches his perfect white teeth. His hair is a short brown, but spiked up a little on the top. Everything about him screams total babe.

And now I think, this is my chance. Better. Memorable. Fun.

So I attempt to flirt with him.

“Not right now, but I might need one later,” I say with a sweet smile.

Or what I hope is a sweet smile. Really, I don’t have a clue what I’m doing. I don’t flirt with guys. Guys flirt with me, and I ignore them. I’ve never felt the need to flirt with them before, but forget about the past, this is all in the name of fun.

His eyebrows go up very slightly, it's almost unnoticeable. But I notice it. I guess he did catch that I was insinuating that he come by later. He looks like he didn’t expect it. But I guess the book isn’t helping? Or maybe it is? Who knows.

But then he smiles even more, winks, and says, “Sure thing, Miss.”

Miss.

I like that.

And I’m surprised I’m not blushing like mad, because usually, I would be beet red by now. Maybe Mexico will be good for me.

--

I’m contemplating whether or not I should go in the pool. It’s hot but I don’t think it’s quite hot enough to go in. The sun is beating down on me but there’s a slight breeze that cools me down a bit.

My parents have come down and Noah is still in the pool, splashing about. He seems to have found a friend who he keeps dunking under the water. I suppose I should tell him to stop, but now that Mom is down here, I don’t feel obligated. That’s her job. But she’s just soaking up the sun in a swimsuit that shows way too much skin. There’s a margarita in her hand and she seems to be thinking she’s twenty years old again. My dad, on the other hand, is talking to some old guy with gray hair. They seem to be in deep conversation about who knows what. Dad’s planner is on the table next to him.

Noah dunks the poor kid under again and I sigh.

“Noah! Stop that!” I yell to him across the pool.

Either he doesn’t hear me, or he’s ignoring me. So I get out of my chair and march over to him, standing on the edge of the pool.

“Noah,” I warn.

He splashes me. Just a little bit. But it’s enough to send me back to my chair. He’s not my kid, after all. At least I can say I tried.

The sun is soaking into my skin. I can feel it seeping into my muscles and bones, relaxing me. Sleep is creeping into my head, my body. I keep dozing off for a minute or two, then waking when someone walks by or a little kid starts crying.

The sun has never been a problem for me. Despite my pale skin, I don’t burn easily, but I know that if I stay out here all day, I definitely will. Yet I can’t seem to get myself to open my eyes and haul myself up to room 514.

After dozing off for the umpteenth time, I’m awoken by feet slapping against the pavement. I don’t open my eyes, thinking it’s just another kid running by. But a second later, I’m dowsed in freezing cold water and I hear Noah snickering as he stands there with an empty bucket in his hands, watching me jump out of my chair in shock.

I look down at him with daggers in my eyes and he runs away. I’ll get him back later.

I’m just about to go back to our room when a voice from behind me fills my ears.

“Miss? I’d say you need a towel right about now.”

I turn on my heel to see Mario, the towel boy, standing in front of me holding a crisp, white towel.

I gladly take it with a smile as I shiver from the cold. I wrap it around me and say, “Thanks.”

“No problem, Miss,” he says with a bemused smile.

“Violet,” I say. “My name is Violet.”

He nods and says, “Mario.”

I point to his shirt. “I know,” I say with a laugh.

He looks down as if it just occurred to him that his name is stitched on his shirt. “Oh, right.” He grins. “So where are you from?”

I should say something clever, something witty. “Michigan.”

Very clever.

“That’s a long ways away,” he says. His eyes run from my eyes all the way down to my toes and back up, then he grins. It is very deliberate and I don’t know if I should feel flattered or disgusted.
I clear my throat. “Yeah, but I’m glad I’m here.”

“Me too,” he says. He tilts his chin at me a fraction of an inch and then takes off toward the hotel.

Well.
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I feel like this is moving slow, but maybe that's because the chapters are very short compared to what I usually write

Let me know what you think about this story so far! I'm getting self-conscious (which always happens after the initial excitement of posting a new story wears off, usually around chapter three or four, so it's to be expected but I still want to know what people think).