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When I spotted her out of the rearview mirror, she was wearing jeans and a cream-colored sweater in a cable knit, snug around her feminine figure.
Amelia opened the car door and settled into the passenger’s seat.
Theseat.
“Hi,” she said, her big green eyes bright with energy and her face fresh and supple, wearing no makeup. She looked so pretty au natural. I was enchanted by every freckle, every small beauty mark.
“Hi,” I replied, feeling a little dumbstruck by her loveliness.
Amelia glanced around, looking a little too alert, on the edge of paranoid. She must have been worried that her roommates–one of whom I knew was her sister–might be getting suspicious.
“Hey,” I said, trying to be reassuring, “nobody saw us. We’re fine.”
“Okay,” she replied tentatively, a smile forming on her face.
“I just needed to see you. To touch you.” I ran a hand up her thigh.
She let out a puff of air, moving her leg into my touch. Then she looked down at where my hand rested, and a little giggle escaped her lips as she pulled her thigh away just an inch, batting her eyelashes and playing coy.
“Maybe for once, could we do something together that doesn’t involve taking our clothes off? You know, to see if it’s even possible?” Her sideways grin and her deep dimples made my chest thump.
“And why would I want to do that?” I asked playfully. Her face fell slightly. I might have hurt her feelings; made her feel like I was just using her for sex. “Hey,” I said, voice gentle and conciliatory. “I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just that you’re gorgeous and I can’t keep my hands off you.”
She nodded, accepting my explanation, her smile returning.
I had an idea. “How about this,” I proposed. “Why don’t we take a day trip. It’s Saturday, after all. Let’s head up to San Clemente where nobody will recognize us. We can get something to eat, walk along the pier… how does that sound?”
Her eyes lit up. “I would love to.”
– – –
The drive up to Orange County was beautiful as the clouds burned off from the morning marine layer. A crisp, bright November day greeted us when we parked near the little downtown area, boasting a strip of restaurants and shops selling seashells and surf gear.
We stopped at a juice place first, then walked down to the main beach and strolled along the pier. Amelia laughed graciously at my jokes about seagulls, and I put my arm around her shoulders when she shivered from the ocean breeze. Our conversation was all over the map–music, movies, favorite beaches and travel. She told me more about her job as a radiation therapist and I described how I had gotten into surfing once I bought my place in La Jolla.
Amelia was a curious person. She listened to some of the more technical, nerdy things about surfing and asked questions, wanting to understand more. I liked explaining the exciting parts to her, but it was even more fun to watch her wheels turn when I told her about how tranquil and calming it was. How inspiring. I could tell she understood the desire for quiet and oneness with the natural world. The feeling of peace.
There was much more to Amelia than just a hot body. I had known she was smart and capable, but it surprised me just how compatible we were beyond sex.
Even if it was the best sex I had ever had.
When lunchtime rolled around, we were both famished. We stopped at a little restaurant serving fresh, locally caught fish sandwiches, and sat on a picnic bench near the water. Kids played nearby on a grassy area next to the sand, and people tossed Frisbees back and forth with their dogs.
“It would be nice to have a schedule that allowed me to do this during the week,” Amelia said, looking longingly at the water, the families, the fun.
“I guess your job isn’t that flexible,” I said, realizing that the nine-to-five life was something I hadn’t done for ages. Real estate kept me extremely busy, but I had the flexibility to surf when I wanted, travel freely, and make my own hours, even if that meant working late into the night or on some beach halfway across the world.
“Yeah,” she nodded. “It’s rewarding and I love helping people, but if I’m being honest, the whole thing was sort of an attempt to get my dad off my back,” she said, bending her drink straw back and forth. I waited for her to elaborate, and after another moment, she did. “It’s just that he expects a lot from me. My whole life, I’ve been under so much pressure to be perfect. I’ve always been the daughter who has it all together, who has her life sorted out, you know? Even though I’m the youngest. My dad has always told me I’m so hard-working and bright. I don’t want to disappoint him.”
“He loves you,” I said. My own story was much different–my parents never pressured me, and I found my way professionally only after floating around for years, directionless, when they had passed. But I knew David was proud of Amelia, no matter what she did. “He just wants you to be happy, I’m sure of it.”
“I know, I know. He does; he’s the best dad. He cares so much. But choosing a career is so overwhelming, and I really didn’t know what I wanted, so I picked the thing that sounded most practical. I still don’t know what I want.”
“Well,” I said, “if it makes you feel any better, I didn’t have much ambition until I was almost thirty. I worked hard, but it took my parents passing away for me to change my life and make something of myself. That, and your dad’s friendship, of course.”
She smiled, then her expression turned thoughtful. “Yeah, I know not everyone has it figured out at twenty-one. Although, I guess it’s not exactly true, about not knowing what I want. It’s just that what I really want is so out of reach.”
She could do anything she set her mind to. Of that, I was sure. So I pressed her. “Amelia, tell me. What is this mysterious goal of yours?”
