Salty Romance

Isabella Ros

The ocean scent carried far enough for it to become a permanent mark of the settlement, the salty taste in the bypassers' mouths something common, going unnoticed through daily life. The town '****' was set far away from anything people would consider a city. The only way to actually step into the ports was by boat.

Small houses built closely to each other, covered in vines and flowers, as roads squished between them. Fountains, statues, and monuments shone under the sun-filled sky as air crackled from the heat mixed with ocean moisture.

But that still leaves reasons for the newer generation to bring their families to their grandparents who still reside there and, most importantly, leaves a reason for attachments to grow beyond their control.

Every feeling might have a reason, they say.

The motor of the old, timeworn boat echoed through the clear waters as it glided through the ocean. The sharp smell of salt filled the air, leaving a taste in the mouth. The muffled voice of the captain babbling in broken English to the passengers.

Barely paying attention to whatever conversation they were trying to have, I looked over the tides. This wasn't how I was planning to spend my pre-university summer at all. Honestly, if it hadn't been for my mother dearest who walked in on me and any now-ex-boyfriend having sex while she and dad were supposed to return after midnight, I still could've had chances of partying every weekend.

Honestly, I couldn't even call myself that attractive, more to the average side of teenagers, dark brown hair in a curl-like pattern. As people said throughout my life 'features resembled more of an ancient Greek statue' rounder features with a noticeable slight crook of my nose and wide eyes. I hated that, in my eyes beauty was always those sharp featured models, not whatever I was.

I couldn't even. imagine being sent over to my grandma who I haven't seen in years. Like sure, I might've been grounded but this was diabolical. I was practically going to spend my whole summer not in London but in Spain in the middle of nowhere!

As we approached the docks, even the sailor stopped speaking, focusing solely on the approaching shore. Which by itself I found refreshing because, as a matter of fact, I had grown sick of his constant booming voice.

But the joy of silence didn't last long.

"Welcome to *****, Ladies and Gentlemen!"

Yet his elderly voice with a thick accent made it sound more like a parody rather than a heartfelt greeting, making me cringe slightly. As the boat (If it even deserved being called a boat) approached the port, I caught the sea salt smell mixed with the nose-turning smell of fish. My nose wrinkled, yuck, as I turned away, desperately trying to catch a glimpse of fresh air.

As I stepped onto the docks, the smell indeed only got worse as I tried to hurry myself up to get out of the half-naked fishermen drenched in sweat docks into some civilization. Dragging along with others towards the main road, I dragged my suitcase as it rattled uncontrollably on the uneven wooden planks as I fought the urge to just throw it into the sea.

Stupid docks, stupid fish, stupid suitcase.

Honestly, if right now anyone would dare to approach me, I might as well blow up. Attempting to drag or fling, whichever I did first, my suitcase down the crooked stairs, and almost tripping over a plank. Before I could regain much balance, someone touched my shoulder.

"Miss, do you need help?"

I turned around so fast that I barely kept myself from stumbling again. Oh. He was annoyingly pretty, unfortunately for him, I was in a state of pure emotional irritation. Probably as I realized but didn't feel like changing anything, the intensity of my stare of setting something on fire made him shift uncomfortably, or maybe he just couldn't stand still. Why is that even my problem?

"Do I look like I need help?" I spat out, not thinking much about him or how it sounded. He's a grown man, he can manage. Grown? Maybe, more like my age but seriously-

Before I could fully form my irritated opinion on him, a scoff escaped him, making my brows furrow in annoyance,

"Actually, yeah, you-" His voice didn't carry embarrassment nor shyness, more like he had never heard someone actually express their thoughts out loud and he found it entertaining.

Then he caught my stare, which indeed looked threatening from the side judging by his expression. Then, glancing back at me with the same expression that made me want to claw his eyes out. He bowed mockingly, disappearing into the crowd.

"Fucking imbecile" I muttered at him, though he was far enough to not hear the phrase.

Finally making it to the main road, I actually glanced around. Cars, where are the bloody cars?

Yeah, instead of how normally I would picture a road in London, this was certainly not THE picture. Bikes, bicycles, tricycles for fucksake, but no cars. Actually okay, there were cars but calling them that was insulting. Barely functioning bungalows with wheels. That was what that was.

Stepping onto the pavement, and looking around once again. Hell, I'm not dragging the suitcase all the way to-, actually where the hell should I be going?

With that, my hand went straight to my phone, thumb scrolling with extraordinary speed through the contacts until halting on 'Mom'. Without a second thought, I pressed dial. One ring, second one, then straight to voicemail.

"Are you kidding me?"

Annoyed. Very annoyed. I glanced up once again, this time my eyes slid over the buildings, all identical in that breathtaking manner. They stretched along the road with occasional boutiques along the road, people strolling through. That did not help.

"Isabella?"

Same voice. Same manner. Him again. I paused, then whipped around only to face him, again.

"You again?!"

Taller. Of course he had to be taller.

He didn't change in those 5 minutes at all. Staring him into the eyes, brown meeting blue in a flame. Then, almost teasingly, he smiled. "You're Isabella?”

"Do you think I turned around just because I wanted? Of course it's my name!"

He didn't look as recoiled as before, just cocked an eyebrow at the statement. "Sheesh. Okay, Ms. Brusen sent me after you; you are her granddaughter, right?"

Grandma. I paused for a second, startled by the declaration, so this imbecile knew MY grandma? Even better.

"And?"

I didn't quite acknowledge how the answer sounded; moreover, my thoughts kept dancing around finally settling into a room and collapsing into my bed, maybe even with someone- no. Not on the first day at least.

His voice snapped me back into the present.

"And, I'm the one who's driving you to her."

OKAY, IM VERY EXCITED TO ACTUALLY PUBLISH THE FIRST CHAPTER AND SEE WHAT YALL THINK.

AND YES, ISA IS A BRAT.