Jasmine Henry Week 36: Sugar Crash

A newcomer to the flash fiction scene, Jasmine Henry is graciously stepping in today. Jenn Baker will be back on her regularly scheduled Thursday on March 14th. Now that Jasmine has drank the kool-aid, perhaps we will see her more often.

Picture 1


Jasmine Henry’s Picture Choice: 1

Title: Sugar Crash

I’d never seen anyone wearing so many clothes for an August afternoon at the shore. Her shimmering silver pants were even more distracting than the way the sun played off the waves. Even though she probably didn’t weigh more than 110, maybe 115, her black platform boots sunk nearly up to her ankles as she walked across the sand towards me. She squinted at me, and her eyes slid toward my surfboard. The vibes she sent were stronger than the wave that had knocked me on my ass 15 minutes ago. Ten days remained until I left my high school life for college in Nashville, and all I knew was that I had to ask this girl out. I was so busy being intrigued that her words knocked the wind out of me.

“Nice board.”

I snorted. “Do you always greet guys that way?”

Her eyes took in my long hair, faded board shorts and the flesh-colored band that covered the insulin pump on my arm. I braced myself for the inevitable concern, but it never came.

“Only the ones carrying a surfboard. What is there to do in this town, anyway?”

She had a trace of an Eastern European accent. Like a cute, teenaged Dracula wearing shiny pants on the beach. The day just kept getting weirder.

“Ice cream. Oh, I’m Declan. Are you in?”

She didn’t hesitate for even a second, and I threw my shirt on.

I offered her my arm as we walked across the sand, and toward the boardwalk. She ignored me at first, and then accepted as her boots kept sinking into the sand. I still didn’t know her name, but I didn’t need to. I was hooked.

She ordered the largest cone on the menu, we took a seat, and she threw her legs across two chairs. I’d never seen anyone eat an ice cream cone like she did. I wasn’t sure it would be legal to watch this girl eat an ice cream cone if I hadn’t turned 18 back in July.

I reached for my insulin pump, knowing the sugar high would be crazy, and I’d never ridden a wave yet that would prepare me for the inevitable crash.

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Jasmine Henry is a copywriter by day, and fledgling fiction writer by night. A new resident of Nashville, she always Tweets back: @JasmineHenry10

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