‘I thought you said you hated doing the opposite of anything?’ He smiled at me, and I felt a warm rush up my neck.
‘Seems that I was wrong aboutcertainopposites,’ I said, smiling at Andrew in a way that could not be misinterpreted.
‘You’re making this so much harder – UH, NO,worse, I mean so muchworse!’ he said, now crab-walking sideways along the bedroom wall. ‘I’m going to stop talking and shower now,’ Andrew said, disappearing into the bathroom. Moments later, the water turned on, and a few moments after that, all I could think about was his naked body standing under the water. And when he emerged ten minutes later with nothing but a towel around his waist I was nearly apoplectic. I shot up off the bed and dived into the bathroom myself. I peeled my own clothes off, only too aware that he’d probably dropped the towel and was also naked in the other room. The warm water rushed over me, and it felt amazing on my skin, as always. I loved the feel of water, but I think I would have loved the feel even more if Andrew had joined me. After the shower I got dressed, did my hair and we headed downstairs.
Cousins, aunts and uncles had all started arriving by the time I was there, and soon I was caught up in a Christmas cyclone. Greetings, presents and baked goods, lots of cinnamon-flavored things, and paper being ripped off presents. Ribbons littered the floor and bits of tape that had once held presents together stuck to the bottom of your foot wherever you walked. It was loud and busy, but not as unpleasant as I usually found it. And I think that had everything to do with the fact that Andrew sat next to me the entire time and, every now and then, as if he knew when I needed it, he made that slow, soft circle on my lower back.
‘That was a lot,’ I said, when it was finally all over.
‘At least nothing caught fire,’ Andrew replied.
I looked at the time on the wall. ‘I need to get out of this house and go for a walk on the beach.’
‘Alone?’ he asked.
‘No, you may come, if you want.’
‘Why thank you,’ he said in a formal tone. ‘I feel honored.’
We walked onto the beach; it was late afternoon. The sun was lower and the weather was cooler. Nonetheless, I had saturated my porcelain skin with SPF100+ anyway, and was wearing the biggest beach hat known to mankind. We walked up the beach towards the rock pools in relative silence. Andrew commented on the flora and fauna a few times, and on the temperature of the water, and pointed out a crab. But other than that, we’d fallen into this glorious, comfortable silence. A silence that I didn’t feel the need to fill with something completely unnecessary, and a silence that felt like the ultimate palate cleanser after a day that had been filled with so little silence.
We arrived at the rock pools, my favorite part of this beach. These pools were their own unique ecosystems and a treasure trove of shells and other interesting finds. I could spend hours exploring them, getting lost in pleasant thoughts and enjoying the wonderful sensations of cool water on my hands, or sea anemones tickling my fingertips.
‘When I was a kid we didn’t go on that many holidays, what with my moms’ jobs and finances, but my favorite holiday was by the coast. My sisters and I spent all our days catching these little crabs in the rock pools.’
‘What did you do with them after you caught them?’
‘Put them back so we could come back and catch them again the next day.’ He smiled at the memory.
‘I like collecting shells,’ I said. ‘They wash up onto the rocks and collect in the pools and crevasses.’
‘You like collecting things full stop,’ he said, walking onto the rocks and looking around. ‘Lots of pools to look for shells in.’
‘Come on, I know the best one.’
I walked over the rocks; I knew them so well. I knew exactly where to put my feet and where not to. Where the barnacles congregated in clumps, ready to pierce your soft sole, and where it wasn’t slippery. I made it to the large, shallow rock pool and, as always, the floor was covered with shells. I walked over to the edge, sat down and lowered my feet into the cool water. I ran my toes through the sand and shells, a feeling that I loved. I didn’t like the feeling of grass prickling my feet, or soil, or a sticky floor, but I loved this feeling. Cool and comforting and reminiscent of so many holidays well spent. Andrew lowered himself onto the rock next to me and also dangled his feet into the water.
‘And now what?’ he asked.
‘And now dig.’ I stuck my hands into the shallow water, ran them through the shells, taking in all the textures. Most of the shells were broken, so you needed to be patient and thorough when looking. Andrew’s hands also moved through the shells on the floor. He methodically searched a grid, like a crime scene, pushing broken shells off to the sides once he’d inspected them. Our hands worked close to each other and, every so often, they would brush together as they went. But soon shells were forgotten and our hands simply tangled together. He pushed my palm into the shells and ran his hand over the back of mine. I spread my fingers, letting his slide between mine. He closed his fingers around my hand tightly and squeezed until it was almost sore. And then he was gentle again, picking up a pointed cone shell and tracing the palm of my hand with it.
We became transfixed by this little game of ours, hardly noticing that the tide was creeping in. Not noticing that the water lapped higher and higher up our legs, climbing our calves and reaching for our knees. The spray from the waves wet our hair and faces, but still, our fingers tangled together in a dance that was slow and soft and so, so intimate.
CHAPTER43
I woke up in the middle of the night and the bed was empty. I turned the bedside light on and noticed that the curtain to the outside patio was open. But the patio was empty.
I walked downstairs, looking for Andrew, and when I got to the lounge I noticed that the patio door had been slid open wide enough for a person to exit through it. I walked out of the door, across the lawn towards the beach. The gate at the bottom of the garden, the one that led onto the beach, was open. I walked through it, walked up and over the sand dune until I reached the beach. And there he was. Sitting alone on the sand, lit only by the light of the moon that was wrestling the clouds for space in the night sky. I sat down next to him in the sand.
‘It’s really beautiful here,’ he said, not looking at me.
‘It is.’ I pushed my hair behind my ears. The cool breeze coming off the waves was pulling at the strands.
‘I always think a beach looks better at night, don’t you?’ He looked at me. His hair was ruffled, his eyes were lazy and hooded from sleep. God, he looked so sexy right now with that sliver of silver moonlight cutting his face in half. I leaned towards him.
‘Most things look better at night,’ I said. ‘It’s the play of light and dark, shadows.’
‘Like what?’
