Sunkissed

My brother has convinced our parents that, although eighteen, I cannot be trusted home alone while they holiday in France. Only a year younger, he must go, so I must suffer too.

The first few days we dedicate ourselves to misery, bickering incessantly. Our parents despair. Then seventeen-year-old Lisette from the neighbouring chalet walks water-spangled from the sea and my brother is smitten.

I watch them through sunglasses, swatting away the attentions of a younger boy who prefers “older women”. Soon, I invite Lisette to go shopping in the village, then snorkelling in the clear green sea where I circle her as light beams play on her body. We swap clothes, experiment with makeup, each moment she spends with me one less with my brother.

Eventually he finds us lounging on some rocks, kissing.

“You should play with someone your own age,” I tell him later, “like the English boy.”

This holiday grows on me. Sunkissed and becalmed, I lie with Lisette on the beach. My parents are relieved, but puzzle over my brother and the English boy who kick sand around, furiously.

Image from Aleksandra at Fusion Dreams. This is an old flash fiction story I wrote well over twenty years ago.