Slither - Edward Lee [47]
Asa breeze began to dry her skin, she tried to reflect on herself. Is it me? There are lots of assholes in the world. I can't get this bent out of shape every time one crosses my path. Maybe this was why she'd chosen an academic-based career instead of something more socially connected.
And she knew she had to consider something else, too.
Deep down, in her most hidden subconscious fibers, was she actually jealous of the more attractive woman?
Hell no, she decided. And what was she talking about with Trent? Like now that she's "had" him first, it's okay for me .. .
The notion just infuriated her more. Trent was a dullard.
She took a few more minutes to shake it off. She was sitting right in front of a vinyl beach bag ...
That's Annabelle's bag, she realized. It contained towels, flip-flops, sunglasses, and the like. And right next to it lay a tube of sunblock.
What was Nora thinking?
She looked to the water. Annabelle and Loren had already gone under. So she picked up the tube of sunblock and without even much forethought, scooped a hole in the sand, emptied the lotion into the hole, and covered it. The tube read SPF 45.
Nora refilled it with her own SPF 2.
She looked up to the blazing sun and nearly giggled. Now the bitch can go back to New York barbecued!
She felt like a juvenile delinquent pulling such a prank, but she figured she deserved it. It had been the comment regarding Trent that bothered her most, Like he's her property that she's giving me PERMISSION to use! Yeah, she thinks she's the queen of the hive, all right. Like she's on some horse's ass reality show. Annabelle Island. And Trent's one of her puppy dog grunts.
Nora was discovering her very own Peyton Place.
She pulled off her flippers and mask, then lay back on her towel. The sand beat heat into her back. In spite of the sour mood, she admitted, the water was perfect-clear as gin and just a degree above cooland she did enjoy snorkeling. She was trying to motivate herself to do something-go back on the worm hunt, catch some lobsters, anything. Or she could return to their makeshift examination lab and make some more notes on the strange yellow ovum they'd found in the shower stall. But a sudden fatigue hauled her down. Not enough sleep last night, she realized, eyelids drooping in the sun. She began to nod in and out, the mildest surf-sounds rocking back and forth in her ears...
When she roused herself, it seemed like she'd been sleeping about fifteen minutes. Then she looked at her watch.
"Oh, for God's sake!"
The sun had moved halfway across the sky. It was past noon. Annabelle, lying belly-down on a towel, turned her head to look at Nora. Loren knelt at her side, slowly applying more suntan lotion on the photographer's back.
"Look who's awake," Annabelle said.
"Hey, Nora. You slept the morning away." Loren looked over at her quite sheepishly, while his hands tended Annabelle's back.
"Hope you don't mind me borrowing your associate, Professor Craig. Loren, if you ever decide you don't want to study worms anymore, you'll make a great masseur."
Nora frowned, watching Loren spread more lotion on Annabelle. Look at him. He's getting his jollies being her personal cabana boy. At least there was a tiny satisfaction, though. She thinks he's using heavy sunscreen but it's really only SPF 2. She'll look like a fire truck by the end of the day. The bitch.
Annabelle and Loren suddenly seemed to be squinting over.
"Nora, did you forget to put on sunblock?" Loren asked.
Then Annabelle: "You're looking pretty pink, come to think of it."
An alarm shrieked in Nora's brain. She'd been too busy sabotaging Annabelle, she'd forgotten about herself. She looked with dread to her arms, then her legs, and found herself pink as deli ham. Oh my God! How could I have let this happen?
"I did," she finally admitted. "I forgot to use my block." Then she held up