“There are things that feel as good, though. Better, even,” I say.
Lines have her brows furrowed, searching for the meaning of the words I just unleashed. I think we both realize that maybe I’ve stopped talking about flying and shifted things to be more about us. She leans forward and kisses my chest and then jumps up, pulling my arm forward.
“Swim with me, flyboy,” she yells and then cannonballs into the pool. I laugh and jump in after her. I realize maybe she wasn’t ready to hear that, but I’m not holding back. Not anymore.
We swim for at least an hour, or rather I swim, and she clings to me like a barnacle. We get lost in conversations about Strutt’s Peak. The cold weather that’ll stay until early May. The chaos that will be waiting for both of us when we get home.
We eat fruit, and she draws a tattoo design across my blank shoulder with a black marker that she found when we fired up the frozen drink machine. Two piña coladas later, a massive graphic of a plane similar to the one I flew here in, adorns my shoulder and upper arm. It’s incredible.
“You were meant to do this,” I say as I look at the marker in her hand.
She smiles and just says, “Yeah, I was.”
As the sun finally moves down to the horizon, she asks about the winter events I’m missing while being here, and I ask how many tattoos she’ll do this month.
“How many clients will you need to reschedule when you’re back?”
She adjusts herself on the bar stool. “I’ll have to push out ten clients, but that’s—” She huffs, and I can pick up her shift in mood right away. “That's if I can even go back to my life.”
Pushing her stool away from the bar, she says, “I need to go for a walk.”
I give her a couple of minutes before I follow. I know where her head went, and I realize we’ve been so wrapped up in each other that she hasn’t thought about what she’s going back to. If she’ll have to leave. That leaving and starting over somewhere new is always hanging over her, but now, leaving seems more possible.
My feet hit the sand, and she’s easily twenty steps in front of me.
“I’m fine. You don’t need to follow me,” she shouts over her shoulder.
I give her the space she needs, but I’m not about to let her out of my sight. Not after hearing exactly the kind of trouble that could be looking for her.
I take a deep breath and the salty air clings to me. A constant breeze keeps my body cool, but the humid air hugs my skin. I can’t decide if I like it. As much as this is paradise, I miss the crisp air of home. I don’t want to think about what might wait for us there, but I miss the bite of winter after sweating all day. I love summer, but I know when it's coming, so I can prepare for it. This was a jolt.
The dark stretch of beach holds a different kind of calm than it does in the daytime. Waves and moonlight to my left, sugar-fine sand beneath my feet, and the warm glow of lights from the lines of villas to my right. I throw a few rocks that I’ve picked up into the water folding onto the shore.
Maybe I need the space too. Absorb what's happened between us.
When I look ahead, I see that G is a bit farther up, her long blonde hair being whipped around in the breeze. Legs and curves, highlighted by the moon. Even when she’s prickly, she turns me inside out.
I hear music up ahead and laughter from a group of people. Steel drums popping off, the bump of an underlying bass, and a woman’s voice singing. It must have caught G’s attention too, because she stopped walking.
“I think it’s a wedding,” she says once I catch up, her eyes fixed on the commotion up along the lit pathway. We watch the crowd of people dancing. Celebrating. Lights strung above the dance floor, and small tables set up around the space flickering with candles. Without a word, she continues walking toward the party.
“Woah, where are you going?”
She doesn’t stop as she looks back at me over her shoulder with a smirk.
“Stop walking, Pixie.” I start following her. “No!” I whisper-shout, but as we get closer, I know it’s no use. The laughter and the music gets louder. She’s already made up her mind. She’s going to crash this wedding whether I go with her or not.
She slows down when she gets to the opening where the wall and bushes separate the property from the beachfront. I see her smile as she watches. If we’re going to do this, then we might as well walk in like we own the place. As I come up behind her, I don’t slow down, instead I grab her hand, lace my fingers around hers, and then take the lead, dragging her to the dance floor. Her smile as we move among the guests knocks me back.
I pull her body closer to mine and she turns around so that her thick, round ass nudges against my thighs, grazing my hardening dick. Leaning into her neck, I kiss behind her ear before saying, “One dance and then we’re leaving, G.”
A minute later, the band changes beat, slowing down from a calypso island sound to something more sensual with a Latin influence. Bongos and guitar that subconsciously make me roll my hips and erase any space between my Pixie and me. She leans her head back, dropping it to my shoulder, and says, “I love this. It feels, it feels so good with you. To be with you like this.”
She turns around in my arms, and I swear it’s like I’ve been slapped by the universe. I’m so in love with this woman, it’s almost funny. As she loops her arms around my neck, she’s so much shorter than me that I have to lean down to wrap my arms around her back. I smile and give her a quick kiss.
“Did you just say something sweet to me, G?” I smile, teasing her, as she leans her forehead against mine.
“If I say another sweet thing, you can’t hold it against me, Hanky. Weddings make me mushy.”