"Those are different words for the same thing."
"Keep moving," I say. “You'll get used to it."
He doesn't look convinced but he keeps moving. We wade out until we're deep enough to swim and then I push off and he follows. The cold hits everywhere at once and I stop thinking about anything except the water and my own arms pulling through it.
We swimparallel to the shore, careful not to go too far out. The beach lights from the houses above are small and warm from here. I can hear the group of people around the fire laughing somewhere behind us. Phoenix is a better swimmer than I expected—strong, economical, not wasting energy. He catches up to me without trying.
"Race?" I say.
"You'll lose."
"We'll see.”
I push off before I finish saying it, which is cheating and I don't care. For about five seconds I'm ahead. I’m a decent swimmer, always have been. I spent my summers at the public pool. Then I hear Phoenix behind me. For a few moments, we’re about the same level and then he wizzes past me and it’s not even close. He touches the buoy we picked as the finish line a full three seconds before I do and turns around treading water with an expression that is insufferably calm.
“You cheated,” I say.
“No, you did.” He laughs.
I splash water at him and he catches my wrist before I can do it again. He pulls me closer and I collide with his chest, both of us breathless.
His arms go around me. My legs wrap around his waist and he holds me up. We bob there in the dark water for a moment, his face close to mine, both of us wet and shivering and not doing anything about it.
"Hi," he says.
"Hi," I whisper.
Phoenix presses his lips to mine. They are cold but warm underneath. His hand grips my waist and I kiss him back, tasting salt water and feeling his heartbeat through both of our chests.
When we climbout of the water and make it to the blanket, it’s not particularly graceful. There's sand everywhere, and we're both cold and wet and he pulls me down. I land half on top of him and we're both laughing again for a second before it becomes something else.
Phoenix rolls me onto my back and looks down at me. His hair is wet and his eyes are dark and he's not laughing anymore. Neither am I.
His mouth finds my throat and I tip my head back and look up at the sky. It’s actually dark now, stars twinkling. The horizon is a deep black line where the water ends. His hands pull at my swimsuit and I help him out. His hands make their way down my bare skin and the blanket is rough beneath us.
Phoenix takes his time. Out here in the open air with the sound of the water and the distant voices and the dog barking somewhere further down, he takes his time—not building toward something, just being here, his mouth and his hands moving over me until I can't think about anything except where he is and where I want him.
“Phoenix.”
He looks up at me.
"Now," I say.
He moves over me and I pull him down and his hand slides between us, positioning, and then he pushes in slowly and I feel every inch of his penis. My breath catches and he watches my face while he does it, dark eyes steady, waiting until I've adjusted before he moves. I exhale. He drops his head and kisses my throat. Then he starts to move and I dig my fingers into his shoulders and hold on.
It's not urgent or desperate. It's not about crisis or any of the things that have driven us toward each other for the last several months. It's just two people on a beach who have been through a lot together. His forehead drops to mine and I feel him exhale and we move together in the dark with the water behind us and the stars above and nobody watching.
When I come it's quiet. I let out a small exhale, my hands tightening in his hair. He follows and goes still after a big thrust.We stay there for a while, lying tangled on the salt-stiffened blanket in the sand under a star-studded sky.
When we getup a bit later, the group down the beach is still going, voices and laughter carrying across the sand. The couple with the dog passed us a while ago heading back toward the stairs, the dog trotting ahead, hopefully oblivious to what we have just done under the blanket. The beach is mostly quiet now.
Phoenix puts his arm around me. I lean against his shoulder and look at the water.
“What are you thinking about?”
“Work … I’m sorry. I shouldn’t, but all of my thoughts keep returning there.”
“No worries.”
