Sierra
McLaughlin meets David Anders on the plane from Hattiesburg,
Mississippi (where she's from) to Daytona Beach, Florida (where he's
from). She discovers he's a surfer and she's a photography student
who took photos of surfers in Daytona during spring break. She agrees
to show him her pictures, which she has in a portfolio.
David
took the pictures as she took back the coffee. He opened the book and
grinned. "Great shot of the Inlet," he commented happily.
"I
like to tell a story with the pictures. I took a few landscape shots
when I got there."
He
flipped through three more. The next picture was of four surfers in
silhouette, the sun and water in front of them. One was bending over
putting on his wet suit. His tight ass was nearly center of the
frame. The guy to his right was profile, looking down at him. The
other two were checking the waves, eyes shielded against the glare.
Their boards were planted upright in the sand.
David
chuckled, pointing to the ass shot. "Very nice composition.
What's this part of the story?" He mimicked a female voice. "I
got to the beach and saw this great ass and had to take a picture?"
Sierra
grabbed for her book, but he held it away from her, out into the
aisle.
"He
has a bathing suit on!"
"Yeah,
but still! I didn't think Stu had that good an ass. Mine's better."
"You
know him?"
"Yeah.
I know all of them." He pointed to each in turn from left to
right. "Tom, Stu's ass, Brent and yours truly."
Sierra
squinted at the picture. The guy shading his eyes and turned slightly
to his right, watching the waves was very familiar.
"Oh,
my God! It is you! How weird is that?"
"Not
very when you figure I spend every available minute on my board."
"But
that we should meet on a plane, when we've been at the same school
for several years. It's weird."
"When
you put it in that perspective, yeah."
Suddenly
excited to have met one of her subjects, Sierra leaned over the album
eagerly.
"Any
more pictures of you in there?"
"Let's
see." He laughingly brushed her hand away as the flight
attendant passed by.
"You'll
have to put your trays up now."
"No
problem," David grinned. He put the album in his lap and put up
his tray.
The
pictures started to fall off his lap. Sierra, not really thinking,
made a grab for the album and missed. The flight attendant looked
down at them and gave her a knowing smile. With a twinkle in her
eyes, she walked to the front of the plane. Red faced and mortified,
Sierra watched the photo album fall to the floor. Unmoving, she
stared at it until David picked it up and dusted it off.
"No
harm done," he smiled, white teeth flashing in his tanned face.
"I'm
so sorry," Sierra muttered as the plane began to move.
"For?"
"Grabbing
at the book. I missed," she whispered as she blushed a deep red.
"Not
everything," he smirked, raising an eyebrow. "I thought it
was some strange Mississippi greeting. Hi," he held out his hand
to her again. "I'm David and these are my balls. Would you like
to sample a handful?"
Sierra
laughed suddenly, realizing he wasn't making fun, just making light
of a very embarrassing situation. Putting on her best Southern Belle
accent, she replied with a flutter of her eyelashes.
"Why,
Mr. Anders, I believe you're a bit presumptuous. I never grab a man's
private parts on the first date."
"Too
bad," he sighed. "I rather liked it. You can grab my photo
anytime you want."
Sierra
giggled and nudged him playfully in the ribs.
"You're
awful. No wonder they're sending you home."
"I
can't be expected to behave," he agreed. "It's true. Cannot
play well with others is on all my report cards."
"Mine
all say, cannot be trusted with photo albums," she added.
Gasping, she grabbed his hand as the plane left the ground. "I
hate flying," she whispered and clutched his fingers more
tightly.
"It's
okay. I'm here. We'll do this together."
"Thanks,"
she murmured and closed her eyes as the plane climbed.
©
2017 Dellani Oakes
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