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She touches my arm and says, “Hold that thought.”
She walks away towards an older gentleman with his hands full of fishing gear who seems to be struggling to put on his jacket.
“Here you go sir, let me help you with your coat,” she says standing behind him. She holds his coat open to him so he can easily slip one arm at a time inside while holding his fishing gear in the other. It’s clear he wants to keep a hold of that rod and reel.
“It’s a beautiful evening, isn’t it?” she asks while he takes his time getting into his coat.
“It sure is little lady. Thanks for helpin’ an old man out. I sure do appreciate it.”
“It was my pleasure, sir. You have a nice night,” she says with that smile that lights up the night and a small wave.
“You too, my dear,” he says as he takes his thumb and forefinger and grips the tip of his hat and gives a little bow of his head.
She joins me in the same spot that she left me. The spot where I watched more of her magic take place and she asks, “Sorry about that, what were we talking about?”
Yep, she is something else. I mean who does that? Well, apparently, she does. The urge I have to grab her and kiss her is so powerful that I have to distract myself and just keep us walking.
“Dragonflies,” I remind her.
“Oh, yeah. Well, it started when I was little and my mom got me this great purple bedding and the comforter had dragonflies on it. I fell in love with them and started finding any little thing I could to decorate my room with them. It tapered off as I got older but when I got into high school I stumbled upon this website that explained all of the different meanings of the dragonfly and it made total sense that I had loved them so much. One of the reasons was that because their lives were short, they lived life to the fullest and that means they symbolize living without regrets. Another reason is that they represent change and self-awareness. At the time things at home weren’t great and it really stuck with me.” She says with a little shrug of her shoulder.
“So, do you live life to the fullest?” I ask her as we reach the end of the pier and lean on the rail and out over the dark ocean.
“I try to but don’t always succeed. Cami does her best to help make sure I do though. She helps me step out of my box and do things I might not do otherwise. Like this vacation. It’s the last thing I wanted to do but Cami made me realize that I deserved it, and I needed to have just this one last week to enjoy myself before the reality that is life sets in.”
“Well, I will have to be sure to thank Cami for getting you here the next time I see her,” I say with complete sincerity while holding her gaze.
It may be dark outside but thanks again to the overhead lights on the pier, I can still see the blush creeping back to her beautiful face. The rush I get knowing that I can bring that blush to her is addictive, and something I’m afraid I could get used to quite easily. Hell, if I admit it to myself I’m already becoming an addict and I just met her today.
She continues to stare at me and just as I start to think about leaning in for a kiss she says, “Let’s walk down to the beach.” Without waiting for me to reply she turns and starts walking.
The walk back down the pier is slow, casual and quiet, but comfortable. It should feel awkward but it doesn’t. It’s obvious we both have things going through our minds at that moment and we need some time to figure out what happens or doesn’t happen next.
We reach the beach and Emily plops down on the sand. She slips her shoes off, buries her hands in the sand behind her, stretches her face to the stars and closes her eyes while taking in a big breath. I wait for her to say something, but she never does.
I look out at the rolling waves ahead of us to force myself to stop staring at her and her long, slender neck that is begging for me to kiss it, when I notice something on her foot. Its dark out here but I am pretty sure it’s a tattoo.
“Is that a tattoo?” I ask.
She lifts her head to see what I am referring to and says, “It is. It’s just a little shamrock.”
Of all things her tattoo is a shamrock, what are the odds?
“Does it mean something?” I just have to know.
“My Granny Grace was Irish. In fact, her maiden name was Ireland. So, when I turned 18 my brother and I went and got shamrock tattoos. His is much bigger and on his arm but after I saw how much it hurt my big, tough brother I decided a little one would be enough for me.”
“It’s cool.”
“Thanks, I kinda love all things Irish,” she informs me. I try not to let out the huge laugh I am holding back. Oh God, if she only knew what she was saying.
“What?” she says as she smacks me on the arm. “Dragonflies, all things Irish and Justin Timberlake, those are my things. Got a problem with it?”
Now the laugh I was holding in comes barreling out of me as I throw my head back and bellow with laughter.
“No problem at all, Emily. You are just adorable, you know that?”
“You’re laughing at me, you jerk!” She smacks my arm again but this time she seems to be giggling as well. “What’s so funny?”
