#matteo desousa

[i-sim-you]

I frown. I can’t help it, it’s a reflex. Maybe it’s because he makes it sound so simple. Cookie cutter like he can’t fathom why. But he doesn’t see it. All the memories. From the corners of crayon filled walls where we marked our heights  every summer, to the lush smell of freshly baked brownies from the kitchen that practically melted on your tongue, the ones that gran used to make. He doesn’t see any of it, or even that the seat across from us - the single rocking chair was grandpa’s chair and no one was allowed in it except him on Sundays.

He doesn’t see all the memories, doesn’t hear them or feel them. It’s a comfort. It’s a curse. It’s all of that and more because they’re gone and they’re never coming back.

I manage to blink back tears before my eyes dart back to him. Be cool Cora, it’s not his fault. I don’t talk about it. Not ever. Not if I can help it. When grandpa died, mom and dad were quick with getting all the furneral arrangements together. And Cal and I fell into a rhythm without talking about it. And with Gran, it was worse. We buried  her before winter ended and I still can’t believe it. All of it felt too fast. 

“Just a change of scenery can be nice sometimes.”

He hesitates, but I know he’s curious. He just doesn’t want to push it.

He wants me to talk about it. But am I ready to? Especially with a stranger? Maybe it’s the fact that he’s stranger helps...maybe he won’t look at me with pity in his eyes and ask me constantly how I’m doing. Maybe he’ll just...listen.

“Maybe I should I go,” he interrupts, bracing his hands on his knees. “I’m smart enough to pick up on when I’ve outstayed my welcome.” As he moves to stand, my hand whips out faster than I can stop it.

It’s a brief touch, just on his arm to stop him. “You’re not! “ I blurt out, “outstaying your welcome I mean.” Sheepishly, I drop my hand.  “It’s nice...to have company,” I admit slowly.  

“You mean you guys don’t this a lot?” His eyebrows lift, not sharp but firm. “Host? Isn’t this...the kind of house for it?”

“That was more of gran’s thing,” I answer without thinking. “She was the social butterfly of the group. Grandpa and I used to sit and watch cartoons together when she had people over. Cal would help her in the kitchen and - shit sorry, I don’t mean to go on and on.“ I fumble to stop, it’s surprises me how easy it is to say it. Even though it still hurts to think about.

He laughs. And it’s a genuine laugh too that lights up his entire face. “No, I get it. My abuela’s a lot like that too. She can’t sit still, especially when people are over. She kind of goes on this auto-pilot and I usually have to help her in the kitchen.”

“They’d have gotten along great, maybe like two peas in a pod.” It makes  me wonder  how long he’s lived in Sulani. Maybe they were friends already and I didn’t even know about it.

-

#sims 4 #ts4 #sims 4 stories #simblr #sims stories #ts4 story #the sims 4 stories #The Beach House #caroline dukeford #matteo desousa #sims 4 storytelling #sim stories #sims

[i-sim-you]

Dinner is going...suspiciously well. Thank the universe everyone is keeping the conversation light. There’s been no invasive questions from Kat that I don’t see coming from a mile away and nothing really embarassing from Cal either....it’s definitely suspicious.

Any moment now, I hold my breath for Cal to break into a rant about something from our childhood.  And if being brought up by a nosy grandmother’s has taught me anything...everyone has a tell, especially my twin brother.

Warily, I pass the orange juice to Matt. Our hands brush and for a moment, I’m afraid he can feel how clammy mine suddenly is. Thankfully, he doesn’t comment on it; Matt’s brown eyes simply lifts the half-filled glass to his lips as he hides a smile.

“So where are you from Matteo?”

I jolt at the sound of Cal’s brisque tone. Especially since he’s saying his government name.

Matt pauses taking a bite of apple pie as if considering his answer. “Around.” He responds vaguely at first, then seems to think about it when our eyes meet over the rim of my glass. “Sun Myshuno at some point, but I was born in Selvadorada. My mom and I moved here to Sulani this summer.”

I have nearly a dozen questions, but I manage to bite my lower lip hard to stifle them. 

“That’s really cool, I’m actually from Selvadorada too.” Cat says with a grin. Her eyes are suddenly brimming with interest before she launches into a series of Selvadoran.

Much to my surprise - Matt has no trouble keeping up. And it takes a minute before conversation dies down again. Okay...he speaks more than one language - Impressed? Yes. A little curious? Definitely yes. Although his pronunciation isn’t as flawless as Cat’s they’re almost in their own bubble until Cal clears his throat.

“Sorry,” Cat says sheepishly, “it’s just - it’s not everyday I meet another Selvadoran in Sulani.” 

As Cal’s mouth opens to say something else, I shoot him a scathing glare.  Now isn’t the time to play twenty questions - I’m sure he’s got a lot of them on my mind, but I can hold my tongue so can he.

#sims 4 #ts4 #sims 4 stories #sims 4 storytelling #simblr #sims stories #ts4 story #The Beach House #caroline dukeford #matteo desousa #callum dukeford #caterina vega

[i-sim-you]

His eyes meet mine. They’re frighteningly sincere. I don’t know what it is about them but I swear there’s flecks of warmth hidden beneath the brown. And he’s suddenly a lot closer than before.

“Yeah, I think you’re right.” He mutters the words softly, but it doesn’t matter I can hardly hear them over the sudden pounding heartbeat coming from my chest.

He props one arm against the couch, the other resting near by. I catch another whiff of the sea on him when I lean forward, wetting my lips. 

“Hey, I didn’t know we were having company.”

And just like that the world around us snaps back into focus and I feel a little  lightheaded as I tear myself away; watching in surprise as my brother plops down in the couch in front of us.

“Hey yourself, I didn’t hear you come in.” My voice is miraculously steady thank god. 

Cal looks between the two of us, making a non-committal noise before jerking his chin. “Who’s this? There’s not a lot of people I don’t recognize in Sulani.” Then he squints a little, “Although...you do kind look familiar.”

As my mouth pops open, it suddenly dawns on me that I don’t know his name either. Shit, what kind of a person invites someone into their home and they don’t even know their name? All the crime documentaries I’ve been watching lately should’ve made me more prepared than this. Rookie mistake. 

Before I can respond, he takes it in stride - springing to his feet to exchange a handshake with my twin. “It’s Matt, you might’ve seen me shredding some waves the other day. I’ve been told I’m pretty good.”

“Hell yeah! I knew I recognized you from somewhere!” Cal grins back, “you’re really good. You gotta teach me sometime.”

“Hey man, just say when.”

But then Cal narrows his eyes a little.

Between the two of us, I can recognize that overprotective brotherly glare from a mile away. It starts with some not-so-subtle eyerolling and then a full out sneer. I’ve seen other people run away from it, and maybe  for an only child - maybe its hard for Matt to recognize the signs. Better beat him to it. 

“Matt was just dropping off my phone,” I said quickly, my voice almost too high. “I left it at Cabana the other night. So I was just saying thank you.” So you can quit while you’re ahead before you give him the third degree. I add the last part silently, but I make sure to fold my arms to get the message across.

Cal definitely notices the sharp look I’m giving him, but he doesn’t back down. Sometimes I think he’s more stubborn than I am. He takes a confident step closer to look Matt up and down, and I swear a tic works in his jaw. “Since you’ve already done that, you -”

“Cal, be cool.” I interrupt, standing upright. My voice is firm, not angry. My voice is firm not angry. “He’s here as a guest. it’s been awhile since we’ve had one but you do remember how we treat guests right?” I glare at him. “We don’t give them the third degree.”

And he glares back at me. The bastard. 

He has no right to do this now - I wasn’t some doe-eyed girl crying over a broken heart in freshman year. I’m a fully grown adult, who occasionally pays taxes. I don’t need anymore protecting. I can fight my own battles.

As my mouth snaps open, another voice interrupts us. Except this time the owner comes with her own sense of attitude and sass that even Cal has to shut right up when she says her piece.

“Ohmygod! Cora! You didn’t tell me you were bringing someone home! Shoot - I would’ve gotten more for dinner.” The door closes behind  her as Cat storms inside, carrying an armful of groceries. “Cal could you do me a  huge favour and get this to the kitchen? I can have dinner ready in like an hour tops.”

“That’s not really necessary, I should probably go -“ Matt says quietly, shifting from one foot.

“Yeah, you really should.” Cal interrupts, his blue eyes icy.

“Ugh - “ Pointedly ignoring him, I saddle up to Matt. “You’re welcome to stay for dinner. In fact, I insist.”

“No, we insist.” Cat echoes my sentiment before giving Cal a you-better-not look that has him immediately shutting up. Bless her heart. 

A glare from Cat is like a glare from a thousand angry suns. Most of the time I’ve never been on the receiving end of it, but I can see Matt’s protest dying on his lips as Cal grumbles before dutifully taking the paper bags tucked under Cat’s arms.

As soon as he’s out earshot, Matt thrusts his hand out again albeit uncomfortably to Cat. “Hey, I’m Matt.” He says lamely.

“The hottie from the other night, yeah? We were just talking about you.”

“Cat!” That was supposed to be a secret. I know she’s getting back at me for practically avoiding them lately, but still.

“Oh, I’m not a handshake kinda gal, I’m more of a hugger.” And without missing a beat she wraps her arms around him in a brief but snug hug.

“Uh...” Matt glances helplessly at me.

I want to scream. The floor should really open up and swallow me.

-

#sims 4 #ts4 #sims 4 stories #simblr #sims stories #ts4 story #the sims 4 stories #The Beach House #caroline dukeford #matteo desousa #sims 4 storytelling #sim stories #sims #ts4 stories

[i-sim-you]

His lips form a quick smirk. “Those were just some buddies of mine. We didn’t really plan on meeting up but it just worked out that way,” he shrugs. 

“Ah. Right.” A hesitant beat passes before I remember, I’m supposed to be offering him something to drink. Ugh, this is why I never have guests over. Not that half of the people in Sulani didn’t already know who the Dukefords are, but its another thing to actually Invite them over for drinks and whatever. We’ve been here for almost two weeks and we’ve avoided grans old friends like the plague.

It’s not that we don’t want to have them over....it’s just, I prefer not to.

“Sorry, can I offer you something to drink?” I quip, running a hand through my hair. “A glass of water? Or juice? Or wine?” People offered wine when strangers are over right? “Maybe some crackers?” I try to wrack my brain to see if I was missing anything, but he lets out something between a snort and a laugh before he shakes his head.

“I’m good, thanks.” He rolls his shoulders before leaning back in the couch. “Really I just came over to hand you back your phone. Getting to see the inside of this place was just an added bonus.” The corner of his mouth moves, “makes me wonder what your room looks like.”

Just the thought of showing him my room makes my cheek turn pink. I haven’t really done anything to the place since the last time I saw it. All pink and filled to the brim with books and clothes; there’s nothing remotely interesting about that. Especially not my stuffed animals. “My room is boring, nothing like down here.” I reply, biting my lower lip.

“If anything, since you’ve already seen so much of where I live - I’d love to see the little corner of Sulani you’re from.” I wonder if he lives close to the beach or any of the caves? I’ve  been meaning to do some more scuba diving. Maybe he lives close to one of the spots.

He could be the type. Up this close, I can smell the sea on him - the slight tanginess of the sea. Maybe he went surfing today

Something flashes inside his eyes before he shrugs. A nervous habit maybe? It’s not the first time I’ve noticed his penchant for it whenever I ask him a question.

“It’s not very interesting,” he answers evasively. “Just surrounded by sands from all side, although the stream I live close to goes into the sea.” He suddenly smiles as if remembering something. “Caught some good waves today, but this -“ He gestures expansively to the room, even the open space leading into the kitchen. “Doesn’t even compare. Why do you bother leaving the house when you’ve got your own personal access?”

#sims 4 #ts4 #sims 4 stories #simblr #sims stories #ts4 story #the sims 4 stories #The Beach House #caroline dukeford #matteo desousa #sims 4 storytelling #sim stores #sims

[i-sim-you]

The earliest memory I had of the beach house was of Gran finding me hiding from underneath the kitchen sink. I was probably around 6 at the time, and Cal and this other kid in the nieghbhourhood broke one of my dolls after begging to play with them.

I told them no, they’re all mine. They didn’t like that. We fought over the doll, and Cal was pulling so hard that he broke it. My favourite one. Oh, that was it. I remember launching myself at him, arms poised to punch him. But he was taller and bigger. He pulled my hair hard enough for me to scream before I made a beeline for downstairs.

That’s where Gran found me, huddled underneath the sink, still crying and hugging my knees. 

Cora, we’re Dukefords, we don’t cry over nonsense. We persevere. Her words were firm but they weren’t mean. Gran’s never mean. She’s always picked me up when I fell down and reminded me to be strong. She had serious eyes and a firm voice, but a gentle smile.  I remember her smile, remembered her outstretched arms before launching into them. She baked cookies after that and scolded Cal and that other kid. They had gotten so much shit for it.

Since then, Gran and I were joined at the hip. She took me to the market every weekend, and Gramps took Cal fishing. And when our grandparents weren’t taking us into town for ice cream - we were staying up late, listening to their stories of all their vacations - hiking through Mount Komorebi, watching the latest musical in San Muyshuno and trekkin through the jungle Selvadorada. They told us all of it. The fun, the happy parts. And sad parts. Until they were gone.

“So basically, what you’re saying is your grandma pitted you against each other.” 

He interrupts my train of thought. He says it with fake seriousness, but I can tell from the way his eyes light up that he’s only teasing.

I make a noise under my breath. “Gran was actually teaching us the importance of getting along.” A pause. “Which didn’t really matter in the long run, because as soon as we got home we were back to bickering again.” I shake my head.

His lips stretch into a smile. “That’s cute. I’ve never had that,” he runs a hand through his hair. 

“A twin brother? God I hope not!” I snort. “And if you’re on the market for one - you can take mine.” 

When he doesn’t laugh, I quickly backpedal - schooling my features into a timid smile. “So I take it you’re an only child?”

“Yeah,” he nods once, then presses his lips together sheepishly. “I’ve always wished I had a sister or somethin’ - I dunno. Instead, it was just me and mom. And my abuela for awhile.” 

“Aww, do they live here too? In Sulani?” I tried picturing them; the  warm brown eyes and silky black hair. He must’ve gotten it from somewhere.

He hesitates for a second. “Yeah, they do. They’re great. I mean if you can’t already tell - I’ve had only child syndrome for pretty much my whole life.”

“I guess that explains your whole chill vibe.” I punctuate in air quotes. “If you had any brothers and sisters, your patience would have ran out along time ago.”

He chuckles lightly and the sound has my stomach doing summersaults. For a moment our eyes collide and I forget how to breathe. There’s a pregnant silence in the air where there wasn’t before. Crap, did we run out of stuff to talk about already?

I look away first, my cheeks suddenly warm. “Uh, thanks again for getting my phone back to me.” Tucking a few stray strands behind my ear, I bit my lower lip. “Seriously, I was ready to buy a new one.”

“You’re seriously welcome. Although truthfully, I was kinda disappointed you were in such a hurry to leave the other night.”

My head snaps back so fast that I nearly bite my tongue. “Oh, it didn’t seem like it.” 

His eyes are serious - seriously chill. I don’t think I’ve met a chiller guy. And despite the slight redness around the rims of his pupils, I’m pretty sure there’s a lot more chill where that came from. He angles his head to one side, his hair follows the movement.

It takes me a second to realize he’s waiting for me to explain. “I mean - you were with your friends.” I gesture helplessly. 

Though I can’t say for sure that red-head was exactly friendly, “you seemed busy when, when we got back from -” I stop short, realizing I was this close to bringing up the kiss. The kiss by the way that I haven’t gotten out of my head, like at all. “Anyway, thanks again.” I finish lamely.

#sims 4 #ts4 #sims 4 stories #simblr #sims stories #ts4 story #the sims 4 stories #The Beach House #Caroline Dukeford #Matteo DeSousa #sims 4 storytelling #sim stories #sims #reshade

[i-sim-you]

I’m nervous. I don’t know why I’m so nervous. I invited him after all. It’s not like he just waltzed in here and yet I have to fight to keep my hands still. 

We quickly walk through the hall, only stopping for me to mumble and gesture where our living room is.

I hear his whistle before my head whips around. “What?”

“Nothing.” His eyes aren’t on me, they’re wandering every few seconds to all around us - the pictures of us on the walls; when I used to have two pigtails and Cal was famous for giving bunny ears, the coffee table with gran’s favourite blanket and the littered trinkets belonging to grandpa. 

“It’s just a nice place is all.” He replies with a shrug.

And he’s right it is a nice place. Down to the wallpaper on the walls - our grandparents handpicked and built everything they could. I feel a swell of pride at his open admiration. “Thanks, our Grandpa built this place from the ground. It. We used to uh, we used to spend a lot of our summers here.” My throat squeezes tight around the words. “Anyway, about that drink -”

“What were they like?” He asks quietly. “Your grandparents.” 

There’s an openness inside his eyes that I didn’t expect. The brown flecks of gold are almost sad.

“They were the best.” I answer without thinking, “they were the best parts of my life.”

#sims 4 #ts4 #sims 4 stories #sims stories #ts4 story #the sims 4 #the sims 4 stories #simblr #The Beach House #Caroline Dukeford #Matteo DeSousa #sims 4 storytelling #ts4 sims #ts4 sim stories #sims

[i-sim-you]

“You’re not Cat.” I blurt out, not taking my eyes off him.

He arches a brow, looking almost as puzzled as I feel. “No, I’m not a small feline - but I wouldn’t say no to an offer for a drink. Milk isn’t my thing though.”

“What?” I frown until it clicks that he thinks I mean an actual cat. I smack my forehead. “Ugh, no - forget what I said. I -“ Why is it so hard to string a sentence together around him all of a sudden?

Tongue-tied doesn’t begin to even cover it. Maybe I’ll feel better if I bring up the last time I saw him. But glancing in those cool summer afternoon eyes, I quickly back pedal. “Can I help you or something?” Why are you here? How did you even know how to find me? Those are the questions I should be asking, just to make sure he isn’t a serial killer.

As if reading my thoughts, he pulls something from out of his pocket and my heart fills up like a helium balloon. Holy shit - it’s my phone. Thank god. I won’t have to look into buying a new one.

“You kind of left in a hurry the other night. I asked around, Sulani isn’t a big place - it didn’t take long before someone mentioned your grandparents owned a beach house up the hill.” He nods to the house, letting out a long whistle. “And it’s as posh as I expected.”

Posh? I wouldn’t call the house posh. I mean sure it’s nice to have big windows and our own personal view of the beach, but my grandparents bought this land and built it from scratch. It took them years to make their perfect getaway a reality. Taking a step forward, I quickly snatch the small device from his outstretched. “Thanks,” I say with a forced smile. I paused. “You...didn’t happen to check anything on there, right?” I ask suspiciously, pocketing the small device. 

“Why? Said something juicy about me?” A lazy grin lifts his lips. “Battery’s dead. I just figured you’d want it back since you haven’t been back.”

It’s only been a few days, but the thought of him...looking around for me. I place a hand on my hip, biting back my smile. “Even if I did say something about you do you think I would even tell you?”

He shrugs, “so about that drink?” 

Oh, he was serious about that? Ignoring the sudden flip in my stomach, I saunter back inside, leaving the door slightly ajar. “Well, what’re you waiting for? Come in.”

#sims 4 #ts4 #sim stories #ts4 story #the sims 4 #the sims 4 stories #simblr #The Beach House #Caroline Dukeford #Matteo DeSousa #sims 4 storytelling #ts4 sims stories #sims stories #sims

[i-sim-you]

#sims 4 #matteo desousa #caroline dukeford #sims 4 screenshots #this was just chilling in my drafts for 84 years #so I'm going to post it because i <3 them

[i-sim-you]

smooches.

#ts4 #the sims4 #the sims 4 #thesims 4 #coraline dukeford #matteo desousa #:)

[i-sim-you]

I blink, not quite sure I was hearing him right. “I’m sorry - what?”

Pretty sure there’s no way a random stranger just blurted that out. To me, of all people. I know word vomit as much as the next person - or maybe the sun was finally getting to me. Maybe I’ve concoted this sort of-handsome guy with jet black hair, a sharp jawline and obnxious piercings in front of me to deal with dehydration. 

Since my back’s slick with sweat, and the heat is still climbing - maybe its affecting my damn eyes.

“M-o-l-l-y.” He says the word slower, punctuating each letter as if I’m the fucking weird one. What’s worse is his voice is husky and gruff like sandpaper - low but still loud enough to draw a few curious looks.

Yikes, I really didn’t want anyone in town listening in. The last thing I need hear is my mom yelling at me for something like that. 

I prided myself on keeping a low profile, always had. It’s just better that way blending into the background. You can get away with a lot when nobody noticies you.

So I’m not going to let some stranger ruin that - even though his smirk is actually pretty cute.

It’s the eyes. I’m a sucker for brown eyes, especially when they smoulder over. The toned arms and sharp cheekbones don’t hurt either. 

He’s not your type. But I still wouldn’t mind running my fingers through his hair.

Glaring, I flatten a hand to my chest. “Do I look like the kind of person that would be carrying a whole bunch of molly?!” I hiss.

Instead of apologizing, the stranger’s dark eyes seemed to almost be smirking, along with the corner of his mouth. 

Damn him.

“Dunno, figured a city kid like you might’ve.” He shrugs, his slightly tawny arms bunched together with effort. Then he was shifting his hands, digging his tattoed fingers deep into his pockets.

“Well, you thought wrong.” I quip back, “if I wanted to mess up my life, there’s far easier ways to do that than drugs.”

I’m not really sure why I feel so adamant on telling him this - I don’t know him. I don’t care to know him. I guess I just hate the idea of people thinking I’d do anything so stupid. And get caught doing it.

I’m only a sophmore after all. I’ve still got two more years of college to get through - plenty of time to still screw up.

“Never mind.” His tone is dimissive as he takes out a lighter and fiddles with it.

My instinct is to put out his cigarette the moment it’s between his lips. But I squelch the urge as I turn away. “Whatever,” I mumble trying to step past him.

“Wait -“

-

#ts4 #sims 4 #sims 4 story #the sims 4 #sims 4 legacy #sims story #sims 4 screenshots #ts4 screenshots #The Beach House #caroline dukeford #matteo desousa

[i-sim-you]

I roll over in a huff, trying to blind myself with something other than the two of them macking in front of me. Eventually, the sun is too intense. Sweat pools at the side of my face and I use the corner of my shirt to wipe the worst of it. But the heat isn’t getting any better and it’s not much longer before I wiggle out of my shorts.

My top quickly follows, tossing it to the side as I reach on my tip-toes for a fully body stretch. Well, no time like the present I guess.

I tread lightly across the sand, careful not to pick up anymore than necessary - because it’s awful trying to get it all out of my toenails. I almost miss a step, fumbling at the sight of a familiar face.

My heart skips a beat. There’s a funny feeling in my chest that I can’t quite find the words to describe as I make him out in the distance - all tall, gangly six feet of him with a headful of hair that almost rivals mine. It’s the guy from the other day. The one that I thought I was drug dealer.

He looks a little different. 

Happy somehow. Maybe it’s because despite my best efforts, it’s almost impossible for anyone to remain unhappy on a beach. 

His slender lips make a slight smirk as his feet scamper closer to the shore. A brightly- white and lemon-coloured surfboard is tucked under one of his biceps.

He hasn’t spotted me yet thank god. I don’t know why - but just seeing him makes me suddenly have the urge to cove up, like there’s not enough layers between me and him - not that I care what some random stranger thanks but -

Oh shit! He’s spotted me.

I blanch. 

Unable to tear my gaze away he motions at me with his free arm, waving in a carefree way that would make anyone think we’re friends and not two people who didn’t know each other.

Shit, shit, shit.

I push back the panic, I push away the sudden and unmistakeable urge to run. Pretending not to see him would’ve been easier, much easier.  But there’s no doubting a part of me is curious. A part of me wants to hear what he has to say. 

So I smile, ignore the urge and wave back. And without thinking, my feet are already pushing past half the beach on the people to meet him.

-

#ts4 #sims 4 #sims 4 story #sims 4 storytelling #sims 4 legacy #sims story #sims 4 screenshots #ts4 screenshots #ts4 story #The Beach House #caroline dukeford #catalina vega #callum dukeford #matteo desousa #gen 2 #tw: swearing

[i-sim-you]

“Hey, you got any molly?”

_

#ts4 #sims 4 #sims 4 story #sims 4 legacy #sims story #the sims 4 #sims 4 screenshots #The Beach House #matteo desousa

[i-sim-you]

“Hey!” His mouth curves into an easy smile. “I was beginning to think you’d never show, keys.”

My mouth falls open, and I’m not going to lie - I kind of flounder a bit; not quite meeting his stare. But then I remember this isn’t a date or anything and I’ve been drinking, so I offer a small smile back. “I’ve been around- where have you been?” At least I think that’s what I said.

This time I make sure to talk a little slower. I’m trying very hard not to slur my words. “I’ve been here, where have you been?” I do a little dance, shimmying my hips and circling him as the beat drops. It takes a lot more coordination than it should, but I manage all the same. Thank god. 

He moves with me, taking me by surprise. Shit, he’s actually a good dancer. He sways his hips like a professional. “An hour maybe? Maybe two? Didn’t really keep track.”

“And you’ve been dancing here this whole time?”

He shakes his head, leaning into my orbit. “Nah, a few of us are hanging out. We’re gonna hotbox in a friend’s car, I was just getting a quick drink when you mowed me down.”

“Mowed you down?” I say incredulously, almost missing a step. The beat is easy to follow,a and I manage to catch up again. But the club isn’t as clear, and the neon lights feel a lot closer than they should. I’m starting to think maybe I drank too much. 

“I’m pretty sure it was your disgustingtly long shoulders that nearly took my head off.” Emphasizing my point I make gesture at our height difference.

A crooked smile flits by. “That’s the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me.” 

I know he’s teasing, but he keeps such a straight face that I almost want to second guess myself. Because if that’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to him then he needs nicer friends.

There’s a retort hot on my tongue, but I step at an awkward angle and my right heel protests almost immediately. My foot goes out, and I swear under my breath before my hands go flailing.

Curse these six inch heels.

But he’s there to catch me and it’s scary how smooth he makes it look. It just takes him seconds - a quick motion to catch me, to bring me close almost to the point where I can smell his after shave.

And my heart does this stupid little thing where it flips, honest to god - it does summersaults as if I’ve never been touched before by anyone. And even though he’s given me room, his hand is still on my arm and he’s leaning in so close that it makes the rest of the world feel small.

My breath catches and I can’t say anything. I can’t even look away. His eyes, his lips - it’s all right there in front of me. It’s just a few inches that separates us and for the life of me I can’t remember how not to look, how not to soak in every detail of him as if I’m some horny teenager.

What’s even worse is that he isn’t looking away either. He’s just staring down at me, not saying a word and all I want to say is kiss me. But I don’t say it, I swallow the lump past my throat and wait for him to say something.

“Hey Matt! We’ve been looking everywhere for you!” A voice calls out loudly from somewhere behind us and just like that it’s all over.

His hand releases me and the heat between us turns frigid as he greets his friend. His very pretty friend.

-

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[i-sim-you]

I fold my arms, feeling defensive. “You don’t know the type of girl I am.” I challenge, jerking my chin. “You don’t even know me.”

“And I’d like to change that,” he replies without missing a beat. “If you’re free -”

There’s a panic that starts building in my chest. A panic that spreads through out my entire body, almost to the point where I can see his lips moving but I swear there’s no sound.

“Not interested.” I interrupt quickly. The moment I find my voice again and speak, the more the panic fades - until its almost a dull roar inside my ears. “I’m not interested in dating you - or whatever it is you’re offering -“

He barks out a laugh, his entire body almost shaking from how loud he is.

I stare up at him in surprise. 

“Woah, relax keys. I’m not asking you out. No offense, you’re not really my type.” He looks me up and down as if to emphasize his point.

Okay, full offense taken. His dismissal stings, really stings. And I hate that it bothers me that it stings. Why should I care that he doesn’t think of me that way - heck, I don’t even think of him that way,

His eyes rake over me, a frown creasing between his brows. “Look you just seemed pretty cool - and I know Sulani gets boring pretty quickly. You’re a city kid -”

I bristle under his quiet inspection. “I may be a city kid but I’ve spent half my teenage years here. I don’t even know where you even appeared from!” He doesn’t remind me of any of the other kids I grew up around; and there’s an arrogance to him that I decisively do not like. “I can find my own fun.”

His lips quirk into that damning smile again, as if he knows something I don’t - which is impossible because I pretty much have always Sulani iike the back of my hand -

“Cool. I guess I don’t need to mention it’s 90′s R&B night at the Cabana Club.”

My eyes widen a second before I consciously make the effort to force them back to normal size. I try to play it off casually; scoffing as if it’s obvious. “Duh, of course I do. I’d have to be born in another century not to know where that nightclub is, y’’know it’s just up -” I whirl around and gesture airily in a direction. - It’s the busier part of Sulani that my finger points to, thank god. I can’t imagine it being anywhere else.

Instead of answering right away, he quirks an eyebrow. Something inside my gut tells me he’s not as convinced I know what I’m talking about, but gratefully he doesn’t challenege my very terrible geo-location skills. “Looking forward to seeing you tonight, keys.”

“Right back at you.” I gesture, flipping him finger guns.

..Finger guns.

Oh god, what’s wrong with me?

-

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[i-sim-you]

There’s something in voice that makes me stop. Makes me want to turn around.

I catch my breath, whirling around to face him despite knowing better than giving him the type of day. He’s not your type. A tiny voice repeats; eyeing him up and down - from his ripped jeans to the loose superman shirt covering his broad chest. Okay, eyes back up front.

I clear my throat. “Yeah?”

He doesn’t respond at first. His eyes are just watching me as his chin tilts slightly to one side. The curve of his lips turn into something close to a half-smirk. Then his eyes glaze over a little and linger on the crevice between my blouse - and suddenly I feel this overwhelming urge to cover up.

“Nothin’. See you around, keys.”

Keys? That doesn’t even make any sense. But then my fingers reach up and brush the key around my neck - the one I’ve been wearing ever since gran’s funeral and my fingers curl until my entire hand makes a tiny fist. “Whatever. Bye.” I mutter the words, storming past him.

I can still feel his eyes on my back, watching my every move but alcohol waits for no one. Especially not a girl ready to get intoxicated by her own sadness.

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[i-sim-you]

The Shack is kind of a cool place, at least it’s where all the locals hang out. 

The younger crowd is usually there in evening when the sun starts touching the horizon and the rest are a mix of the older crowd; blending into one another as they took their familiar spots along the beach.

Sand digs into my slippers as I make my over; smiling politely at familiar faces - some of which know me by name. It’s hard for them not to know who I was considering how many people knew my gran.

She spent a lot of time delivering her best baked goods to the bar and other local hot spots during the weekend. It became a bit of a tradition to which people jokingly started asking if I was going to follow in the family tradition.

Hell no, I’m not a fucking baker - which is what I wanted to say to a bunch of strangers that had no business asking me. But instead, I smiled politely and minded my own business; no longer bothering to acknowledge the old jabs.

Truth is, I’m nothing like gran.

The thought makes me falter a little in mid-stride, but I’m able to catch myself just in time before I heard a distinct pssst.

The sound startles and jerks me out of my own thoughts and right into the pair of dark brown intimidating looking eyes.

_

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