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Miah Bitsie knew she hated Paul Lahote ever since they were three years old. All it took was him stomping on the pile of sand which she had painstakingly decorated with rocks, sticks, and strands of dried grass and was calling a castle. He hadn’t done so maliciously, however, three-year-old Miah, who had spent an hour perfecting her creation, felt that he had wronged her immensely. And despite being such a small, young child, Miah got her revenge by shoving Paul to the ground and stomping on him until he cried and ran away.
While her mother claimed that she had overreacted, Miah disagreed. Why did Paul get to run around tromping over sandcastles without a care in the world while she had to watch something she had carefully built with her bare hands get demolished and not get angry about it? It was unfair and even as a toddler, Miah recognized this as an injustice and had vowed to never let anyone get away with doing shitty things to other people without being held accountable—especially boys like Paul Lahote.
With a short temper, little patience for suffering fools, and the ability to hold onto incredibly long grudges, Miah grew up without friends—not that she minded. Miah liked her solitude since it gave her time to explore her creative genius and cultivate her artistic skills. You see, Miah may have started with a shitty pile of sand that she called a castle, but over the years, she had progressed her skills to what she considered to be an almost professional level of sand sculpting. She would spend hours, and sometimes all night, digging, piling, and wetting sand and then pounding it into a densely packed mass that she could carve with the makeshift tools she had jimmy-rigged from a few of her mom’s kitchen utensils and some of her dad’s tools from the work shed.
She would often sneak out in the early hours to her little secluded corner of La Push beach for maximum peacefulness. Miah loved being on the beach at night under the light of the moon that glittered on the rhythmic waves of the ocean. It always seemed to calm the rage the boil inside of her during the day that was usually caused by the other kids in school or her mother.
Miah sighed as the cool ocean breeze ruffled the strands of her hair that had fallen out of her messy bun. It was a full moon on a hot summer night which equaled the perfect conditions for a late-night sandcastle and Miah knew it would be her last chance to carve for a while with the upcoming rainstorm that was predicted to hit in two days’ time.
She wiped the sweat from her brow as she finished heaping the sand into a mound that was as tall as her, tossed her shovel to the side, and filled her buckets with water from the shoreline. It had been a while since she had made one this big, but Miah had always liked a challenge. She would be out all night, but the end result would be worth it—she could feel it in her tired bones. That was one of the things she loved the most about this beach, the sand practically demanded her to pour her creativity into it, and Miah was more than willing to give into the call.
For hours she circled the mound, slicing away chunks and packing sand into places until the shape of a large castle with broad arches and spires took shape. Miah then began to tweak some of the features and the sun started to rise just as she was almost satisfied with the result.
It was magnificent.
As Miah gazed at her work in the bright, warm light of the rising sun, it was like she became entranced by it. The castle was realistic, yet it held an almost whimsical quality. It was definitely her best carving yet, at least, it would have been if a soccer ball hadn’t flown at Mach five into the side of it, blasting the castle apart like a cannon ball and breaking the spell.
Miah’s mouth hung open as she took in the carnage. Everything had crumbled. The masterpiece that she had slaved over all night gone in a matter of seconds and the calmness she had gained seemed to crumble with it as the soccer ball rolled to a stop at her dirty, bare feet.
With a growl of rage, Miah gripped the sharpened fork she had been using for the finer details in a tight fist as she plucked the ball from the ground and stomped angrily in the direction from whence it came—emerging from her corner of the beach like an angry, sand-covered gremlin.
She could hear the offending party searching for their ball before she saw them. It seemed someone had booted the ball from the main part of the beach all the way to where she had nestled herself in her rocky nook—which was an incredibly impressive feat, but Miah was a bit too angry to marvel at the person’s strength.
As she approached, Miah was able to recognize one of the bare, muscled figures searching for the ball in her possession.
“LAHOTE!” She bellowed, the wind ripping through the loose strands of her black hair dramatically. Everyone turned to look at her as she approached Paul with a vicious expression on her face that betrayed her murderous intent.
“She found it!” Someone called out in the background, but Miah paid them no mind as she stopped in front of Paul and proceeded to plunge her sharpened fork into the ball as she glared into his eyes—the ball slowly deflating as she maintained eye contact.
“Noooo!” Someone cried mournfully. “My ball!”
“Who is that?”
“Isn’t that itsy-Bitsie?”
“Where did she come from?”
“What the hell?”
Murmurs rose from the group around them, but Miah paid them no mind. For some reason, she just couldn’t seem to look away from Paul’s dark brown eyes. Had he always had that freckle on his cheek? She hadn’t noticed before.
“Miah.” Paul whispered as if her name held all the answers in the world and Miah found herself taking a step towards him as if she were pulled by a magnet.
“Oh god, not another one!” Someone groaned.
“Seriously, Paul? It’s not even seven thirty.” Another voice complained. “It’s too early for this shit.”
Miah didn’t know what they were going on about, but Paul seemed to brush them off so it couldn’t really be that important, right? Wait. What was she doing? Why was she no longer glaring at the sandcastle-stomper?
Miah took a step back at glared again and felt a rush of satisfaction when Paul had the decency to look upset. She yanked her fork out of the skin of the ball and tossed the limp remains at his chest before turning and heading back to gather her things and head home.
“Wait!” She heard him call out from behind her, but Miah was having none of it. She didn’t want apologies, or excuses, and Miah certainly didn’t want to be around Paul and his gang of CrossFitters any longer than absolutely necessary. She just wanted to go home and sleep for twelve hours.
…
While she didn’t get twelve hours of sleep, Miah did manage to squeeze in a half hour before her mother told her she needed to get ready for school or she’d be late. With a groan, Miah reluctantly rose and got dressed, grabbed her bag, and began the long, scenic walk to school.
“You shouldn’t walk alone.”
“Gah!” Miah swung her backpack at the stranger who had appeared from the edge of the forest, hitting them on the side of their head before the voice registered as Paul’s. “Paul, you idiot, don’t sneak up on people like that!”
“What the hell do you have in there? Bricks?” Paul rubbed the reddening half of his face.
“There’s only like two textbooks in there.” Miah shrugged and continued walking as if nothing had happened. “God, Paul, don’t be such a wuss.”
“Wuss?” He scoffed as he fell into step with her. “I barely felt it.”
“I suppose you’ve always been hard-headed.” Miah teased before realizing that she was being playful with the destroyer of all sand creations. This was Paul Lahote of all people. He may have gotten tall and was now chiseled like he had been sculpted by Michelangelo himself, and he might have brown eyes that she could get lost in, and maybe that freckle on his cheek was kind of cute, but he was still little boy who had been the first to wreck her sandcastle without so much as an apology.
“I suppose you’ve always been this hostile.” He teased back which took Miah by surprise. Paul was notorious for his temper—almost as notorious as she was for hers—and he despised being teased about anything. “You know, you’re kind of cute in a grumpy, mess-with-me-and-I’ll-cut-you way.”
Miah stopped dead on her tracks. Was he…flirting with her? Did he have brain damage?
“Are you high?” She frowned. This was not the Paul she knew. “What’s the matter with you?” The Paul she knew would be aggressive and seething at any remark that sounded even vaguely like an insult and he wouldn’t bother talking to her of all people.
“What? I can’t give you a compliment?”
“No, you certainly can’t.” Miah started walking again. “It doesn’t suit you.”
They walked in silence for the rest of they way and it seemed like Paul was at a loss as to what they should talk about. It’s not like they had anything in common nor was Miah in the market for friends. She, quite frankly, was hoping he would get bored and leave her be, but when they reached the school parking lot, they were immediately accosted by his band of hooligans.
“Well, well, well,” a tall, gangly boy who Miah recognized as Embry Call drawled as he approached with Jacob Black, Quil Ateara, and Jared Cameron, “if it isn’t Paul and little itsy-Bitsie.” Miah frowned at the nickname. She had always hated it, but since she was short and unfortunate enough to have the last name ‘Bitsie,’ the name stuck.
“Don’t call her that.” Paul growled, a slight tremor passing through his body like a quake before a volcanic eruption. It seemed the old Paul had returned with a vengeance.
“Someone’s touchy.” Jared teased. “Did things not go according to plan?”
“Shut up, Jared. Your advice was dog shit.”
“I thought you said all it would take was one smile and she’d fall at your feet.” Embry butted in. “It doesn’t look like she’s very smitten to me, don’t you agree, Jake?”
“She looks a bit like she just bit into a lemon, but itsy-Bitsie always looks like that.” Miah turned her sour expression to him and sneered as he and Embry laughed and playfully pushed each other.
“I said,” Paul shoved Jacob hard, “don’t call her that.”
Miah was kind of surprised that he was actually defending her—getting in Jacob’s face like Jacob had insulted him. No one had ever done that for her before and no one had ever really cared that she hated that nickname even when she had told people to stop calling her that. And while it was nice to have someone on her side, she didn’t particularly like that it was Paul of all people.
“Calm down, Paul, you wouldn’t want to scare Miah.” Jared put some space between Paul and Jacob, glancing at Miah almost nervously.
But Miah wasn’t scared.
“I don’t know what has gotten into all of you,” she said as she inserted herself between Paul and the other Neanderthals, “but whatever this is, it ends now.” She gave them all a hard look before heading towards the school so that she wouldn’t be late, but as she walked away, Miah paused. “And leave me the hell alone.” She added for good measure, not bothering to turn around to see if they were listening. “I don’t associate with people who knock down other people’s sandcastles.”
And while she thought that would be the end of whatever this strange infatuation Paul had for her, but when lunchtime rolled around, she found herself looking at his broad chest when she went to go sit in her usual, quiet spot near the trash can. “What is it now?” She raised a disapproving eyebrow. “I thought I was clear this morning when I told you to stop bothering me.”
“What did you mean by what you said earlier?” He said, and she gave him a look that questioned his intelligence.
“To stop bothering me.” She reiterated, quickly losing patience.
“About the sandcastles, I mean.” Paul clarified.
“You don’t remember?” Miah wanted to throttle him. “When we were kids, I spent at least an hour building a sandcastle and you literally just trampled all over it. You didn’t even apologize!” She exclaimed with a wild hand gesture with the hand that wasn’t holding her tray of food, almost smacking him in the process. “So, I stomped on you until you cried and ran to your mom.” She heard a burst of laughter from the table occupied by Paul’s group of muscle-bound dumbasses, but she didn’t think too much of it since they were far enough away that they wouldn’t have heard what they were talking about.
“What?” Paul’s face reddened as he gave her a look of confusion, and then recognition lit up his dark brown eyes. “Oh my god, seriously? You’re still mad about that?” He let out a strangled noise as if she had actually throttled him. “We were like three years old, Miah. Don’t you think fifteen years is a bit of a long time to hold a grudge?”
“I’ll stop holding a grudge when it stops making me angry.”
“Is this why you have never liked me? All this time…just because of a stupid sandcastle?” Paul said with a goofy grin as he looked down at her and then took one look at the utter rage in her expression and the smile immediately dropped from his face.
“A stupid sandcastle?” She seethed. This was the same argument she constantly had with her mother whenever Miah was caught trailing sand all over the house after completing a new carving or caught sneaking back into the house late at night when she had told her mother that she was studying all night.
To everyone else, sandcastles were fun little things to build and then destroy—they were meaningless and insignificant. But Miah didn’t see it that way. To her, it was a form of art that was beautiful like a flower in bloom—it’s majesty short-lived and a melancholic beauty as it became weathered at the end of its life. While it might sound sad, there was something satisfying about seeing something with grandeur and complex structures that slowly succumb to nature’s whims, returning to the beach like crumbling ruins of an abandoned castle.
“It might have looked like an insignificant pile of crap to you, but it meant something to me.” She bit out before turning and heading outside. Miah didn’t want to feel his apologetic gaze on her, and she definitely didn’t want to talk to Paul anymore—not when she felt the urge to smack him in the face with her lunch tray.
…
Luckily, Miah was able to avoid Paul for the rest of the day or maybe he had finally decided to leave her alone. Either way, she put him and his stupid brown eyes out of her mind. Paul Lahote was definitely not someone she needed to think about, however, after sneaking out that night, Miah found herself carving a sand sculpture that looked suspiciously like a familiar set of well-defined abs.
“Gah!” She stabbed the tower of sand she had spent an hour packing down with the trowel she had been carving with. Why couldn’t she get him out of her head?
“Are you okay?” She heard from somewhere behind her. With a yelp of surprise, Miah whipped around, throwing the trowel blindly in the direction of the voice.
“Ugh, it’s you.” She grunted unhappily as Paul hopped off the rock he had been perched on, handing her back her trowel. “How did you find me?” Not even her mother knew the exact location of her special corner of the beach.
“I followed you here.” Paul stated as if his answer was obvious and not totally creepy. “What are you doing?”
“Sculpting.” Miah responded defensively. “It’s art which is something you and your fellow gym rats wouldn’t understand.” Paul eyed the messily jabbed mound that she gestured to emphatically.
“I see.” But from the look on his face, it was obvious he didn’t.
“It’s not done yet.” She rolled her eyes.
“But you’ve been out here for literal hours.”
“The base takes a lot of work.” She shrugged. “I haven’t really even started the carving bit yet.” He gave her a surprised look, so she elaborated. “I’m usually out here all night and possibly part of the morning depending on how many intricate details I want to add.”
“Do you do this every night?” He looked at her as if he was concerned, she wasn’t getting enough sleep.
“Only when the weather allows and I’m feeling like I need to get away.”
“Away from what?”
“Everything.” She sighed.
Miah would be graduating this year and her mother was placing a lot of pressure on her to apply to colleges, but truthfully, Miah didn’t want to go off to school. She would rather spend the rest of her life on the beach. But ‘playing in the sand’ didn’t pay the bills.
“I get it.” He sighed as well. “Responsibility just gets dumped on you when you get older. It sucks ass.”
“You got that right.” She chuckled and before she could over-think it, the words flew out of her mouth. “If you’re quiet, I’ll let you stay and watch me sculpt.”
The offer was met by a moment of silence and then an almost frantic nod. “I won’t say a word.” He vowed and Miah found herself suppressing a smile. Maybe it was because she was in her element or maybe he was better at conversing than she had initially given him credit for, but Paul didn’t seem that bad—for a sandcastle-trampler that is.
…
True to his word, Paul was absolutely silent and stayed out of her way as Miah worked. She had never sculpted with an audience before, but as long as she pretended that he wasn’t there, it felt like any other night.
Miah lost herself in this piece like she did with all her other ones. The curves of the arches and sharp angles of architecture were starting to come together, the different surfaces being smoothed to perfection. She even added a winding staircase and some pillars to this one—experimenting with a couple new techniques.
She was almost satisfied with how it looked when she felt the first drop of rain. It spurred her on, but Miah didn’t rush the process. She pressed on with vigor, fixing a few stairs before taking a step back and looking at the completed sculpture. Even in the dim light of the cloud-covered moon, it was beautiful.
Miah turned to Paul with a questioning look, feeling strangely vulnerable. “Well? What do you think?”
Paul opened his mouth, but no words came out for a moment as he took it in.
“Miah.” He turned to look at her. “This is incredible.” His gaze was intense as if he needed her to know that he was completely serious. “I didn’t know something like this was even possible. I mean, it’s sand. How did you do that without it falling apart?” Paul asked, eyeing one of the more impressive arches and Miah felt her heart swell in her chest.
“You really like it?” No one had even seen her work before.
“Like it? Are you kidding?” He scoffed. “I’m still not entirely sure how you did it. It’s amazing.” A blinding flash of lightning painted the sky followed by a loud crash of thunder booming overhead. The rain began to pick up, falling steadily now. “Aren’t you worried about the rain? Won’t it be ruined?” He looked around as if he was going to try to fight the weather for daring to harm her art and Miah found herself grinning at him like an idiot.
“Just wait.” She spoke softly as the rain began to pour steadily, drenching her baggy, sand-crusted T-shirt. “This is the best part.”
They watched as the rain pelted the sandcastle, peppering it with small divots and eventually causing the tallest spire to collapse. The intricate staircase was next to go, the stairs washing away the water ran over them. It took a total of fifteen minutes before the whole thing was reduced to a mound of incomprehensible shapes that hinted that something had once been there.
“Wasn’t it beautiful?” Miah whispered and turned to find Paul staring at her. She probably looked like a shivering, drowned rat, but then again, he also was soaked to the bone with rivulets of water trailing down his face and bare chest. How was he not shaking from the cold?
“Yes.” He answered, but Miah couldn’t seem to remember what she had asked.
“We should probably go home.” She broke the silence, her teeth chattering. Her lips were probably turning purple, and she would probably get hypothermia if she stayed out here much longer.
As the words left her mouth, the wind picked up and the rain pelted down even harder somehow, reducing the visibility significantly and saturating the ground. The walk back to her place would be difficult since she had to go up a hill that would no doubt be slick with muddy water, but it would be worse to stay out in the rain.
“Follow me.” Paul grabbed her wrist with a warm hand and pulled her in the opposite direction of her house. “You need shelter.”
He led her to a small rocky outcropping and ducked beneath it and looked at her expectantly. Miah eyed the small space warily before tucking herself next to him, her side pressing against his warm one. Seriously, how was it possible for him to not be even the slightest bit chilly in this kind of weather? Totally unfair.
“We’ll wait until it dies down a bit and then I’ll carry you home.” He said softly from beside her, twisting to meet her eyes. “Until then, we’re trapped here.”
“You don’t have to do that. I’ll be fine, really.” Miah insisted, not particularly liking the idea of being carried to her house by Paul.
“You’re not wearing shoes, Miah.” He pointed out and Miah winced. He made a valid point. The water on the ground would make it hard to see rocks and her feet were also ice-cold.
Miah pulled her legs to her chest tighter and tried to rub warmth back into them unsuccessfully. “Fine.” She agreed somewhat reluctantly, her teeth still chattering.
“You’re cold.” Paul stated with a look of worry crossing his face. “Come closer.” He wrapped his arm around her back and practically placed her into his lap. Miah was about to complain, but the heat that seeped into her body quickly stopped the words in her throat. This was definitely for survival. Yes, survival.
“You’re so warm.” She muttered as she pressed her cold fingers to his chest. Paul was almost like a heated blanket, the water on his skin almost seemed to turn into steam and evaporate off him.
A flash of lightning illuminated his face, emphasizing the contours of his cheeks and revealing the intricacies of his normally dark eyes. Miah couldn’t help but let her eyes drop to his lips, tracing his cupid’s bow with her gaze and imagining what it would be like to trace it with her tongue instead. Stronger than the pull of the beach, Paul’s lips called to her, and Miah didn’t want to resist.
She felt him hug her closer and his grip tighten on her waist, her eyes flying back to his as thunder crashed in the distance—the rain slowing to a sprinkle yet neither of them moved from their embrace. In that moment, Miah had never wanted anything more in her life than to kiss Paul Lahote of all people.
He leaned in and his lips softly brushed hers in a sweet peck and Miah pulled away with a glare sliding easily onto her face. The audacity of this man to kiss her first, when she had been planning to kiss him. How dare he.
“I’m sorry, I should have asked—!” She cut him off by slamming her face into his, kissing him with a fiery passion fueled by a mixture of anger and desire. It was the kind of kiss that was earnest and all-consuming, but before she lost herself in its entirety, Miah pulled away.
When she opened her eyes, she found Paul blinking at her with a dumbstruck expression.
“Huh?” He spluttered after a moment of speechlessness.
Miah nestled her face into his chest to hide the goofy grin that weaseled its way onto her face.
“Hey, Paul?” She muttered, trying to sound angry, but failing to keep the smile out of her voice. “You still haven’t apologized for destroying my sandcastle.”