Disclaimer: Glee is still not mine, if it was Sam/Quinn would be together.
A/N: I wanted to posted two/three more fics before my personal Glee-fic-a-thon ended, but unfortunately life got in the way and it wasn't possible. I will still post the next part in my Forwood/Pretty Reckless saga on Monday/Tuesday and go on break for a week or two afterwards. When the break ends, I will continue my Glee/Vampire Diaries/other fic writing. A lot of people asked for a continuation of Beach Day, so I wrote this. I will add parts eventually, though infrequently, when inspiration comes. It'll always revolve around the beach. So enjoy- read and review.
The sand is warm, but not scorching, beneath his body. When the tide rolls in, it licks at his feet, washing over his sun-stroked ankles and occasionally he skims his hands over the water wistfully.
The two hour drive to Lorain, Ohio isn't always fun and generally he doesn't like to make the trip too often, but atleast a couple times a year, he feels compelled to venture there. No matter the season, the day, the time. He's not quite sure why.
If he closes his eyes and clears his mind, he gets flashes of pink bows in blonde hair, the feel of sand squished between his hands and the sound of his laughter bubbling in his ears.
He isn't sure if it's a dream or a memory- he's asked his parents what it all means and they're clueless- but the sense of calmness and happiness is never more prominent than when he escapes from his life- his mediocre grades, his totally lackluster social life, his completely normal parents and his on-again, off-again girlfriend.
In the sand, listening to the water lap around him, he can be blasé.
His gaze skims around him- there aren't too many people at the beach yet, not during the early hours of the day- on a school day no less- and especially since the water won't loss its chill for hours. He analyzes them- the stoners are lighting up, a few college students are taking artist pictures and a lone girl is laying isolated from them all, writing in a journal.
He can't understand why he fixates on her, noticing everything about her. Her hair beams in the sun, her legs are curled beneath her and she looks up sporadically, searching for some meaning within the scenery before her pen continues furiously scribbling.
He stares until she can feel the heat of his eyes on her and searches him out. They simply glance at each other for minutes.
She offers him a smile.
His feet carry him off before he can contemplate what's going on. She examines him as he approaches- slightly stiff and ready to bolt if needed, assessing him like a potential threat- but her posture relaxes when he graces her with a smile and she assures herself that he's harmless.
The second he knows he can be heard over the background noise, he pauses.
He half cringes visibly at the sound of his voice, so unfamiliar to his ears. He sounds prepubescent.
She drops her pen into the journal then sets it aside. Her smile stays intact on her face.
He's smiling like a dope again- he can't help the warm shock that overtakes him at the sound of her voice.
He's shifting like crazy from one foot to the other, trying to figure out what he wants to say and she's patiently waiting for him to speak. She seems amused by his demeanor.
He motions vague to the half of the blanket she's not sitting on.
"Mind if I sit?"
"No. Have a seat."
He situates himself next to her, trying not to invade her personal space too much. He looks ahead, gaze frequently flicking back to her and noticing that she's staring at him. Still waiting for him to speak to her- hit on her, harass her, insult her, something.
He turns to her and she angles her body towards him.
"Do you come here often?"
"I do. Mostly to think, sometimes write. It's so beautiful here."
She's focused on the water, her feet burrowing into the sand. She looks back at him.
"What about you?"
He hums. "I like it out here. It makes me feel calm and collected. I can escape everything, you know."
They're back to silently reflection. The sun is beating down roughly on him- most likely painting his normally lightly hued skin cherry- the salt swirling in the air is starting to crack his chapped lips making them sting and the granules of sand are starting to warm the soles of his feet.
They talk in intervals- mostly about useless things, semi-frequently referencing their own lives. Their conversation is muted, but lively.
He glances at his watch. He's missed lunch- not that he cares- but if he doesn't leave soon he won't make it back in time and his parents will definitely know he skipped school.
He stands, wiping the sand off on his jeans.
"It was really nice to meet you, but I have to go."
He's two steps away when her voice stops him.
"Hey!" she calls out.
He turns back slightly, wondering why she's calling him back.
"Mine name's Quinn."
She's chewing on her lip, a blush spreading across her features. Her hand is out and like gravity his hand links hers.
He's looking at her through lashes, suddenly shy. They shake hands again and again, until he pulls his away embarrassed. He didn't want to release her hand, wanted to continue feeling her skin against his.
"It was nice to meet you. Maybe here again sometime?"
She bends down for her journal, writes something on the page, tears it out and then shoves it into his hand.
"Bye Sam." She gathers his things quickly and walks off, all the while throwing him looks over her shoulder.
He grips the paper tighter. He shoves it into his pocket and heads home. The paper's burning a hole in his skin the entire time.
In the privacy of his room later that night, he smoothes out the crinkles and stares at the words she wrote.
One aspect of serendipity to bear in mind is that you have to be looking for something in order to find something else. – Lawrence Block
I hope to see you again someday. -Quinn
He stares at those words forever. He expected her number, maybe an email address. This is memorable though.
He tacks it above his desk.
He can't wait to run into her again.