Page 59 of Diverge

“Quit being a fucking prick. No one likes you. Don’t mistake people’s fear of you as respect because they don’t respect you either.”

He gathers my books and throws an arm around my shoulders as we walk out into the quad. Finn has always protected me, even when we were little. Once when we were ten, he built a sandcastle around me, trying to shelter me from the water because I feared the possibility of a jellyfish stinging me. He’s always been my protector since we met, and it makes me adore him even more for standing up to my bullies and trying to protect me from the world.

*****

The waves crash ontothe sand as Finn’s fingers curl into mine. We sit as we admire the beauty of the ocean under the sparkle of the moon, the sand between our toes. He pulls me in closer to his side as the wind picks up speed. We used to come here in the summer as kids, build sandcastles, run on top of the slippery rocks when our parents constantly told us not to. The memories make me smile as I look beyond the water to the horizon.

“I think I want to quit my job.” I sigh. “I’m beginning to see that it makes me a bitter person.” Finn’s hand grips me tighter.

“I’m happy for you, B. If that’s what you want to do, I will support you.” He traces his thumb back and forth over my hand.

“I never thanked you... you know... for the times you protected me or stuck up for me.” I breathe in his scent, the sandalwood from his perfume filling up my lungs.

“It was unspoken. You didn’t have to...” He looks at me, and I look back at him, his blue eyes swallowed up by his enlarged pupils. “ ...and I’d do it all over again if I had to.” I smile, warmth filling my chest as I look at my best friend and first love.

“Do you think it’ll be hard? To change at this point in my life and career?” I sigh, and my breath trembles slightly at the thought of beginning a new chapter in my life.

He smiles. “There’s never a point where it is too late if that’s what you were thinking. Sure, there’ll be a point where it gets hard, but that’s with anything in life...you just have to push through it to achieve the end goal, right?”

I nod. “I guess I just don’t want to fail.”

“Failure is certain in life, B. We all fail at some things, but what matters isn’t that you failed. It’s what you do after you fail that determines the outcome.” He places a small kiss on my forehead, his warm lips leaving an imprint on my mind and soul. “If you simply give up, you’ll always wonder what could have been. You’ll always have a nagging voice in your head about what may have happened had you tried harder. Yes, we’re given a path to follow, but we aren’t given a guide on how to follow that path... it’s up to us to write that ourselves.”

I sit and ponder his words for a moment, taking a big breath of fresh ocean air.

“Do you believe in fate?” I ask.

He looks out to the ocean, and his face changes as if I’d said something to upset him. “Yes... and no.” I wait for him to explain as I watch his jaw tense. “Sometimes things do happen in our lives which we have no control over. I will admit that... but we do have control in how we respond to those events, which can alter the course of our ‘fate.’” He looks at me. “Do you believe in fate?”

I thought about this many times over the years, thinking that I was fated to live a mediocre life in the small city of Melbourne, but now, I’m not quite sure. “I think I did before, but now, I’m not so sure. I want to believe that we have a purpose but maybe that purpose is different for everyone. Maybe your fated purpose can change or shift as you grow.” He gives me a small smile as he brings his lips to mine, delicately kissing me. My breath is stolen when his tongue forces entry into my mouth as he pulls me on top of him, my legs straddling his waist. He kisses me urgently, as if we were running out of time, like teenagers as if we were late for curfew, not wanting to part ways.

He pulls away gently, and I place my forehead on his.

“One thing I know for sure, I was always fated to come back to you,” he whispers, closing his eyes, and I know that the moment we are in right now, is right where we are supposed to be. My chest booms with the ever-growing love I have for this man as my lips find his, my fingers swirl in his hair, and I feel him growing beneath me as our breathing picks up in tandem.

Letting the rush of adrenaline take me into its riptide, I grind over his pants, a moan escaping from his lips. Looking around, I make sure we are the only ones on the beach. Seizing my opportunity, I reach between us to unbuckle and unzip him until his cock is freed. His hand reaches beneath my dress, pushing my underwear aside. My thumping heart vibrates in my chest as I lick my lips, the taste of his lips still lingering on mine. Raising my hips, I wrap both arms around his neck and lower myself onto him. His head falls back as his eyes close.

“Billie...” he whispers as one of his hands steadies himself on the sand, the other resting on my hip. He takes in a shaky breath as I slowly move my hips forward and back, the feeling of fullness creating a rising heat inside me.

He sits up, placing one hand on the side of my face, the other wrapping around me, pulling me closer into him. His lips brush over my neck and make their way to my ear, the warmth of his breath sending a shiver down my spine.

“...I love you.” Happy tears threaten to flood the gates behind my eyes.

“I love you, too,” I whisper before my lips crash into his.

Our hips move together in rhythm, a moan escaping my lips, travelling into his mouth as I feel the euphoria edging to be liberated.

His hand threads through my hair at the back of my head, pulling my head back, my eyes meeting the stars in the night sky above as he lightly traces his teeth on the side of my neck, his other hand travelling up my dress to cup my breast. Sweat pools on my back as my breathing hitches, the euphoria taking over me, bursting through my pores.

*****

My focus is interruptedwhen Laura peeks over my shoulder, reading the email I’m writing to my client. I’m trying my best to stick it out until the end of the month. That’s when I’m considering giving Fiona my four weeks notice. I feel a pang of guilt when I think about some of the lovely clients I have worked with and how much I’ll miss working with them, but I’m quickly reminded as to why I need to quit. This place is not good for me. I’m not cut out for a corporate job, working unpaid overtime for a business that could easily replace me as a number as soon as I walk out that door. So, I shove that guilt right back into the abyss and continue writing my email.

“No, don’t say that. I think it’s not professional enough.” Laura grips her coffee mug as she leans on my desk beside me.

It comes out like word vomit. I don’t mean to say it, but I do anyway.

“Maybe you should write it then.” My tone is a lot harsher than I meant it to be, perhaps from the years of her just bossing me around.

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