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The storm clears surprisingly quickly and we change back into our original clothes.
“You wouldn’t even know there was a storm.” I look around, shocked by how suddenly the sun has come back. Not a cloud in sight.
Aaron looks up at the sky and shrugs. “Passionate weather.”
“I’ve never heard of that,” I say. I guess it makes sense, though. Weather can be unpredictable, messy, unforgiving. It can wreak havoc.
In my previous relationships, I don’t know if there was passion. There was lust and intensity, but it was also toxic.
My general taste in men is those that are unavailable, which is probably why I suddenly feel drawn to Aaron. He’s unattainable.
I like that there are no strings, no expectations, no commitment. That’s where things go wrong.
We make our way to one of the restaurants on the beach and are led to a table.
The waiter sets down a plate of fried plantains for us to nibble on, and I feel my stomach grumble. “I’m starving.”
Aaron looks at me with a playful grin. “It’s tiring losing to me.”
“Wow, rewriting history.” I throw one of the plantains at him.
He catches it and puts it in his mouth. “I feel like your wild side might be coming out.”
I take an exaggerated sip of my drink. “You have no idea. I once pressed all the buttons on an elevator, just because.”
He chuckles. “I shouldn’t be hanging out with someone who can lead me down such a dangerous path.”
“You’ve never done anything stupid? Impulsive?” I mirror his raised eyebrow.
Aaron leans forward. “That’s an entirely different conversation.”
I bite my lip. His husky tone is doing things to me.
Our food arrives and the energy between us dissipates.
“What did you get?” He leans over to look.
“I’m not too sure. It’s a combination of dishes, I think.”
He stabs his fork onto some of the food on my plate and takes a bite. “Ooh, that’s good.”
“Hey! Paws off.” I swipe my fork at him.
He raises his hands in surrender. “Wasn’t me.”
I roll my eyes. “Who was it, then? Casper the Friendly Ghost?”
He smiles, a dazzling smile that momentarily takes my breath away.
I look over at his plate, but it’s got a lot of seafood on it.
He offers a fork full of food and I shake my head.
“Are you sure?” he says. “I swear I don’t have cooties.”
I screw my face up. “I had a bad experience with seafood once. Can’t do it again.”
“Fair enough. I went off chicken for about a month after eating something in Greece that, well, I’m not entirely sure was chicken.”
