Dora had believed it completely. Alexander was an excellent liar ( a rather excessive one as well ). The two of them had reassured Eliot when he had woken up at 8am and when Alexander explained to him what had happened he had believed it as well.

After that Alexander had driven him home, and whilst he was gone the rest of the family had woken up and begun breakfast. When he returned he hadn't come to breakfast. He parked the car and proceeded to run down to the beach along the main road and then back up to the top of the mountain. Elodie had watched him do this for 45 minutes now, as she perched comfortable upon a sun chair on the grass lawn.

he was relentless, climbing at a steady rate and then descending with a sprint, as if he were some type of wild cat with unwavering stamina. he would leave her sight just before he reached the beach but it was seconds before he turned back and she could watch him take on the steep road. he repeated this again and again. he didn't stop to have breakfast, or to check on Dora.

She didn't question it. Her mind wasn't willing to provide an explanation, so why bother? She would stop watching him soon. he seemed as relentless as the sun. and who would watch the sun?

with his route tickling the back of her consciousness she decided to go to the beach. she left the house just as he passed it on the way up, and skipped downwards at a speed so that he would see her reach the end of her walk. it seemed as if her mentality of not caring was slowly rotting away into a state of mind that was contaminated and corrupted. she was becoming aware. she was becoming enlightened in the cruelest of ways. the prospering of her thoughts had caused a self realisation.

the concrete of the road was excruciatingly painful to walk on if it wasn't in the shade. she wondered how he did it barefoot. she wore only a swimsuit. she skipped, her plaits slapping her back every time she landed a step. she reached the end of the road and the shade of the canopy  dissolved into harsh sunlight. nevertheless, she continued.

she began to hear what she presumed to be him. he panted, like a dog, but the increasing volume of his 'thumps' made her picture him as a horse.

"Elodie," he called out from behind her. She hadn't talked to him since the night earlier, only watched.

She turned. He had come to a halt, hands on knees, hunched over as he refilled his lungs. he was wet, the sweat clinging onto his skin, glistening, like honey, under the sun. for some reason he hadn't taken off his shirt, and so it stuck to him, revealing veins that bulged in his upper arms.

"Yes?"

It seemed to much of an effort at that very moment to be sinister towards him, despite his previous violence.

"Can I talk to you?" he asked as he smiled at her, standing up straight now.

What harm could it do to talk to him?

"Yes. Where would you like to talk? "

"Are the rocks okay?" he asked her, seemingly interested in her opinion. "I think it would suite the conversation."

He pushed his damp hair out of his eyes.

"Will your feet be okay?" she asked back.

He looked down as if they could answer the question for him.

"Yes, I believe so."

He jogged up to her side and walked next to her, saying nothing until she dispersed the silence.

"Why were you running?"

He chuckled quietly under his breath.

"Just exercise."

"Just?"

"Yep."

He kept enough space from her body to make her comfortable, and acted politely and kindly towards her. Perhaps last night had been a sort of self realisation for him as well.

"What did you do this morning?" he asked, looking at her whilst she looked ahead.

"I read," she replied.

"And what did you read?" he asked inquisitively, as they reached the rocks and began to climber over them.

"Wilde."

all of this was a lie. she had spent the morning watching him, had she not?

" I quite enjoy Wilde. Have you seen any plays of his?"

"There isn't a theatre on the island," she laughed, amused at his 'city antics'.

"Oh silly me."

He smiled. He seemed pleased that she had broken her streak of being hateful towards him. Although it might not be as entertaining as her attitude, he had to relish it now, who knew how long it would last.

"Let's sit here," he said to her, and she plopped herself down on a rounded and smooth white rock. He sat opposite her.

"So last nigh-"

"I don't really want to talk about it."

"I was in the wrong."

"Maybe you weren't."

"I should have stopped earlier."

"He might have raped me."

There would have silence if the waves had ceased to crash on the beach behind them.

"Can we go back to talking about Wilde?" Elodie proposed.

"Yes, Yes, of course." He seemed nervous.

"Actually, why don't we talk about your writing," she said with a cheeky grin, as a sort of attempt at banishment of any awkwardness.

"Oh I don't talk about that," he chuckled, wiping his forehead.

"Oh come on."

"What can I say about it?"

"I don't know, write me a poem why don't you?"

He rubbed the back of his neck.

"I don't just do that."

"Why not?"

"It's a private thing for me. A self-fulfilment. A release."

She rolled over onto her stomach and looked out over the small bay, the crests of incoming waves sequins in a blanket of blue velvet.

"Am I not worthy of reading your pretentious poetry?"

He laughed.

"Sadly not," he replied. " I haven't really shown it to anyone."

She wondered if he was looking at her body as she was turned away.

"I'm going swimming. Shall we try this again?"

She began to stand up and he did so as well.

"Try what again?" he said in his deep luxurious voice.

"Last time we were here together you threw me in and I was quite vexed."

"I promise I won't. At least you're not being a little bitch this time around."

"Hey!" she protested.

"I'm just kidding."

She clambered clumsily towards the edge.

"Even I know you're not."

She didn't get a reply, because he had sprinted past her and leaped into a dive. He emerged and grinned at her. She dived like he had, with legs clenched together for an entry that cut the water in half like jello, swallowing her up.

She swam upwards, piercing the surface next to him.

He was back under when she had done this, and so she followed him as he descended towards the bottom in search of coral that adorned the sand like expensive jewellery would a girl's neck.

He ignored her, instead focusing his energy and eyes on the nature that engulfed them. he neared the shore with each stroke, and the creatures that would have embellished the sea bed began to turn to sand. he stood up and waited for her for a second. She fumbled for footing on the floor and steadied herself.

"Do you want to get out?" he asked.

"I quite like it, don't you?"

He sunk to his knees so that he was closer to her eye level.

"Of course I do. I was just asking."

His eyes now rested on her level. The pupils contained in them flicked back and forth as they searched her for face for an expression.

"Want to play something?" she asked, almost mischievously.

"Play what?" he queried, evidently interested in her suggestion.

She thought for a moment, twiddling her hair between her second and third finger in a playful manner.

"Wrestling."

He let out a subdued titter.

"There is no way that would be a game. I would crush you, literally."

"Try me," she challenged, coquettishly.

She bounded exuberantly up onto the beach and he followed, although unsure about he following activity.

She positioned herself two meters away from him and began to count down.

"3."

"2."

"1."

She ran for him and he held his place defensively. His body hit hers like a barrier, and before she knew it he had grabbed her hips and was about to throw her back into the shallow water.

She hit it with a slap, but he wasn't done. Picking her up yet again as she floundered and flailed he turned her on her stomach and held her to the floor.

"1,2,3,4,5-"

She wiggled her way out for a second before he had her down again, this time on her back as she looked up at him with puckish eyes.

"Why are you being so nice to me suddenly?" he asked her, as she thrashed beneath his muscular grip.

Her reply came out in splutters.

"Why not?"

"It's exhausting being surly."

"I just thought i would try it."

He released her, and she scrambled up into a standing position.

"And how did it go?"

She brushed her legs down from the sand. It hurt. It scratched her skin, her doughy, milky, smooth smooth skin.

"It was better than I thought it would go."

He sat down on the beach, looking out onto the bay. She didn't, but remained standing.

"I should go," she decided, as she started up the beach.

"Can I ask you one more thing?"

"Go ahead."

He didn't turn to her to ask the question, nor did he offer her his elusive gaze.

"Do you want something from me?"

Behind him she stopped in her tracks. But only for a moment.

"Want what?"

Her voice was drenched in innocence, her mind embroidered with indelicate thoughts and skittish exhilaration.

"Never mind."

What she wanted was to get away from him in that moment. She wanted to be alone, like she was allowed to be for most of the time. Free to be admired not interrogated.

And so she walked away, leaving him on the beach to ponder what she might have answered if he had let her.