into the ocean.
But she’d think that’s weird…
I’m weird.
Like on autopilot, Julian took the cool beer from the bartender and turned in the direction of the water. He imagined the water to be cold, hoping it was as freezing as the arctic. Cold enough to give him hypothermia. Just the thought of it all was enough to slow the nervous tremors within him. It was enough to calm him down so he could eventually face Stephanie.
She had an eyebrow raised, and her lips were no longer on the straw. This time, only one hand wrapped around the glass and her other was by her side. He ignored every warning his brain gave and let his needy heart win. Julian reached over and took her hand in his. He didn’t say anything. He only smiled as he led them towards the shore and away from the party.
Where they ended up sitting was secluded. The party and tourists were far away. The only sound they could hear was the approaching waves. They said nothing as they drank their beverages and watched the water almost reach their toes before it retreated.
If he could, he’d keep her right here—on this beach, at this moment, with the stars as their witnesses and the moon giving them its blessing. One perfect night in Thailand.
“J’aime ce moment avec vous. C’est la perfection,” she whispered when they had placed their empty glasses beside them.
Julian took his eyes off the blinking star he had been gazing at and looked at her. Stephanie didn’t turn his way as a contented smile overtook her beautiful face. He’d never paid attention in French class. He had only done a compulsory year before doing home economics. Where else could you eat your A+? Not in bloody French class. And now, having just heard Stephanie speak it, he wished he understood.
“Look at the stars, Julian,” Stephanie instructed softly.
And he did. Each one twinkled brightly but not beautifully. Not with Stephanie out tonight. She had stolen the stars’ gleam.
Suddenly, Stephanie leant closer to him until her arm touched his and her head was resting on his shoulder. The small sigh she made had his heart doing wondrous beats and stretches. So new. So painful. And so wanted.
He knew instantly that friends were out of the question. He wanted a lot more than just hand-holding. A lot more. And tonight was the start. After his own contented sigh, he wrapped his right arm around Stephanie’s back, scooted her in closer, and settled his palm on her thigh. She didn’t flinch or move away. She seemed to want those things, too.
“Say it again, Stephanie?” he asked. Then he closed his eyes, allowing himself to feel each French word she spoke burn themselves into his soul.
“J’aime ce moment avec vous. C’est la perfection,” she repeated in that same soft tone.
He didn’t hold back as he kissed the top of her head and whispered, “C’est la perfection,” ready for the sun to chase the moon.
The ceiling fan continued to spin, and Stevie continued to watch it. Round and round it went. It also made a noise. One that should have made her nervous as to whether it was actually bolted securely to the ceiling. Death by a falling fan was better than hearing her roommate having early morning sex. There was nothing more cringing than hearing Roxy moan ridiculously. It didn’t even sound like pleasure. It sounded like someone was cutting her from head to toe and then sewing her up wrong. It was seriously off-putting. And then there were the giggles. Terrible, horrible giggles.
Though Stevie had no clue about the actual physical act of sexual intercourse, she knew that Roxy and the Scot were doing something wrong or abnormal. Was sex all about the ear-deafening moans and cringe-worthy giggles? She hoped not.
For some reason, Stevie had always believed there to be more. The emotional connection in sex. Something the boys she had dated in high school hadn’t been able to give. Eric Jacobs had gotten close, but Stevie had just wanted to break the cherry and be done. Then Eric had said that he wanted to fuck her good, but she had wanted to throw up the moment he had tried to touch her. That was when she had realised she wanted more than just a fuck.
However, there was one man’s touch she wanted. One she craved, and when the slightest contact had occurred, she’d almost melted. The desire was embarrassing. The neediness was worse. But cool was her