8
RAVEN
The breeze rollsover my face, the scent of the ocean filling my nostrils, a calmness that has eluded me for the past few hours finally settling inside me.
The sky looks beautiful, with streaks of light on the horizon. Maybe there’s a storm brewing. Regardless, it looks beautiful, the vast space helping me clear my mind. So many things have happened.
Too fast.
My mind wanders off to New York. My little house with its old stuff in the attic and Kai’s house across the road. The nights I’d spent with him there, and mostly our first night together.
It was a week ago… Almost. And it feels like it’s been years.
How can we move through life at such great speed? How can we fall through time frames as if we’re different people?
Francisco comes to mind with his magnetic eyes and fiery touch. A smile tugs at my lips. Taking these snippets and reliving them for what they are helps me have those perfect memories logged in my brain.
Morsels of wild love.
Natural wonders, like the astonishing underground caves of Mexico, filled with water––miraculous sinkholes of unimaginable beauty.
That’s how my moments with them were. And then came the harsh reality. Not what I’d expected it…
I wonder how this night would’ve been if I hadn’t left. Or Francisco wouldn’t have come to my room. Or Kai wouldn’t have talked to that woman.
I wonder what would’ve happened if I didn’t run into Isla.
I would’ve been at the hotel for sure. I wouldn’t have wanted to talk to them, though.
I start to feel uneasy.
It was better in New York. I felt better. Because my place was there. I had my own safe zone. A refuge.
This… As beautiful as it is… It only makes things more fluid and uncontrollable. It’s like a drug navigating my system.
I move my focus away from the story and focus on the view.
The ocean glints in the distance, oblivious to the stories living and dying on the shore.
“I thought you left,” a masculine voice echoes behind me.
I turn my eyes to the man.
Em’s cousin closes the space between us, holding two glasses of wine. He offers me one.
“And yet you were looking for me,” I say, smiling, convinced he’s drinking wine because of me.
He strikes me as a beer guy more than a wine connoisseur.
“That’s why I said what I said. I’ve been looking for you for the past few minutes.”
“Hmm…”
I taste the wine, smiling, his eyes not peeling away from me.
“Good?”
“It’s perfect.”