“I actually want to hear more about our first date, if that’s okay.”
“You sure?” A pair of seagulls chase each other overhead. In the distance, a rainbow kite darts though the sky, its colorful tail fluttering behind it.
“Yeah,” he says. “We’ve had some pretty intense getting-to-know-you time already this morning. Let’s lighten the mood and talk about being horndogs.”
I laugh. “I know at some point we’d mentioned we were both living in California, but the morning we were supposed to head home, we were in your hotel bed and realized we didn’t just live in the same state, we were going to the same airport.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Let’s just say we didn’t spend much time talking.”
He lifts a brow, impressed. “I see.”
“Your flight was a few hours before mine,” I say, smiling as I remember his sweet impatience, the stream of texts he’d sent detailing exactly what he was going to do once he had me in bed again. “But you insisted on waiting at the airport once you landed.”
“Wow, calm down, Luca.”
“You’ve never really been one to play hard to get.”
“I’ll say. What happened when you landed?”
“You came home with me and we—”
“Didn’t talk some more?”
Laughing, I nod. “We do a lot of not talking. We are very good at not talking.” I swallow, realizing this is exactly why I was able to keep things from him for so long. Our eyes meet and he searches my gaze,looking for something. He seems to find it, because understanding clears his expression, awareness of some shared culpability.It wasn’t only you sweeping things under the rug, his eyes seem to say.
And then the expression shifts, turning playful.
“So let me guess,” he says, leaning in and lowering his voice. “We came here because we thought a crowd might keep us in line?”
His proximity sends a wave of warmth over my skin. “Pretty much. Itisa family beach, after all.”
“Did it work?” His smile is flirtatious, a glimpse of my Luca making an appearance.
My voice comes out unsteady. “Not particularly.”
He makes a show of looking around. “I was going to say, it’s not very crowded today. Were we just walking?”
“Mostly. But we ended up over by some trees.” I watch as he turns away from me. “Where are you going?”
Tilting his chin, he motions for me to follow. “Come on,” he says, and walks to the base of a pair of palms growing in the sand near the cliff.
Even with the wind, I am immediately sweaty again. Luca doesn’t remember what we did. But I could never forget. I move to join him.
“Now what?” he says expectantly.
I look around before pressing my back to the rough wood of the trunk. “I was here.” The sky has become slightly overcast, just like he predicted. Not unusual in San Diego, when the marine layer hangs like a fog until early afternoon, but it could mean rain, too. The shadows blur together as the sun slips away. It feels darker, more private.
“And you—” With my hands on his forearms, I guide him to stand in front of me. Toe to toe.
“Like this?”
I nod, though it’s not completely true. That day there was no space between us. Today our hands are carefully at our sides, not barelyrestrained over fabric, fingers teasing at hems with whisper-soft caresses and promises of what we would do when we were alone.
Luca swallows, his eyes glued to my lips, his voice hoarse when he asks, “And then what?”
Saying we made out isn’t even close. We practically had sex with our clothes on. I’m surprised the lifeguards didn’t escort us out. My face heats at the memory.
