I glance at her and my eyes retreat down as she crinkles her own, smiling at me and sipping a margarita. Her lips curled over the edge of her drink like it's sour. Must be hard not laughing at me. After all, I have a big red splotch of red on my pale face, maybe she's comparing me to a mandrill. That would be fun. I sigh. She perks up. "C'mon you don't look too much you got pinched my a granny. You look more like a... hrm," she pauses, thinking carefully. "... A cockatiel!" She sits up towards the coming waves, happy about her statement. Suddenly she changes her position, her hands behind her, holding her up. The dent of her elbow looks at me. Her long straight hair hangs behind her as she leans her head back. I stifle a sigh. She slowly turns her head and rests it on her shoulder. I look quickly at the waves. I hope the sunburn hides my reddening face.

I stare hard at the ocean until my face feels cool and I can turn back towards her.

"Wanna swim, Dix?" she says with an edge of worry on her voice. I swallow. She does not know what she does to me. Just thinking about her taking off her shawl makes me cringe at my red hot face. I try to push down my words to say something else. "No thanks, I'm fine." She sighs and I look back at her. I wish she hadn't dyed her hair. Red-orange and dark gray streaked on her fluffy blonde bangs and gray continuing on the front sides of her hair. The salt air waved in between her locks, showing me the second layer of a striped mixture of blonde and red-orange. It looked so great on her and it made my torture almost complete. It made me me think about her whenever I see those colors, and other guys also noticed she looked great too.

"Dix, I'm bored." Her words snap me out of my thoughts. The beach chair creaks as I place my margarita down on the sand. "That dude over there asked for my number." She pointed to a man without a shirt. He had short black hair that was fluffy. It stinged, she loves black hair. I try to make a cool reply, "Are you going to?" A moment of silence filled our small space. A few people chattered down the beach. She was laying down, looking up at the clouds. "He gave me his before I could, so I didn't have to." I squinted at her, surprisingly, I couldn't read her. I shifted uneasily. The chair creaked.

The beach was so uncrowded that I could hear her words clearly, "I mean I would of. He seems really nice, but not like creepy. I don't know." My shoulders rubbed against my chair and scratched on the brittle bands of fabric. I don't like this feeling.

I'm Dix to her. She didn't give me that nickname because I was ever her boyfriend. Her best friend. That's what I have been for years, through high school. She uses that name to make me feel better, she knows it makes me feel better every time, she just doesn't know the actually reason, she thinks it's because I had never been a best friend to someone before and I like to be reminded of it. But that's not it at all. I own it. I own something of her's, and that's a good feeling, a favorite feeling of mine, in fact.

She invited me on this trip as her best friend like the countless other times she has, but this time, I want to come back as something better.

"Mary and Dix..." I whisper to myself.

"What?" Crap, I forgot. No one is around us, she can hear me! I freeze. This is not the way this should go!

"Mary?"

"What?"

"I.." I stop, there's a better way. I stand up, full of courage. I quickly whip our my hand, offering it. She hesitantly, but gracefully, accepts and elegantly stands up. She looks ready to do whatever I want but not how I want. She expects me to say we should do something dumb or crazy, like a race to the water. She stares at me, waiting. Perfect.

I exhale quickly. No backing out, you coward. It's been six years, it's finally time.

I kiss her. Slowly I stop, pull my face away, and look at her. Her eyes are still closed. She looks like a rock. I smile. Her eyelids flick open. Written all over her face is fear. Wait what? Is this good? I think this is good. My smile gets bigger. She looks so sweet like always, and now I own more of her. A moment.

Pain, excruciating pain. My vision floods. She kicked me in the crotch! What the heck, Mary?! She steps back, sobbing, her hands covering her quavering open mouth.

"No, no, no, no, no, no..." She keeps repeating it. I think my heart is being pulled more and more out with every step she takes back. I see her fear and horror etched on her face. I cough and collapse on my knees, the sand surrounding me as I hit it. A new emotion sweeps over her face, terror. I wish with all my soul now that I couldn't read her so well. I wish I could kill myself. What was I thinking of? "There's a better way." you idiot!

She whispers a single word. "Coward". She turns and runs and I feel ready to die. That's not the way I used that word.