I grab my wallet from my back pocket and pull out my driver’s license, handing it over. He glances at it, not even really looking. Just before he goes to hand it back, something catches his eye and he snaps the little plastic card back a few inches in front of his face, examining it intently. Something actually seems to start churning in his empty brain, making me uneasy.
“Any day, pal,” I snap, wondering why he’s staring at my ID like that.
He blinks and reluctantly hands me back my card. I slide it into my wallet and pull out my credit card, shoving it in the card reader before he can rattle off the total. As soon as the transaction is approved I gather up my things, not bothering to stay a second longer to ask this weirdo for a bag.
I jut my hip into the handrail of the door, pushing it open and getting the hell out of there, that guy giving me beyond creepy vibes. As quietly as I can, I open the back door of Olivia’s car and dump everything into the back seat before jumping back behind the wheel.
As soon as I turn the key and the engine rumbles to life I hear Olivia take in a deep breath through her nose, and look over to see her stir. Tiredly, her eyes flutter open, and she sits up straight, getting her bearings. Her eyes flicker over to me, and I can’t help but chuckle at how adorably sleepy she looks with the small red mark on her cheek from it being pressed against the window.
“What?” she asks through a yawn, stretching a bit, her stiff bones cracking.
“Nothing. You’re just really cute.”
She blushes slightly, rolling her eyes.
I grab her chin and pull her lips to mine, kissing her longingly. I only cut the kiss short because I still feel perturbed by the creepy gas station guy, needing to get as far away from here as possible.
“How much longer?” Olivia asks as soon as we pull onto the main road.
“We’re about thirty minutes out from the hotel,” I inform her, reaching over to grab her hand and bringing it to my lips.
“When we get there do you want to unpack and rest before grabbing some lunch? Then maybe we can head to the beach?” she asks, and I can hear the excitement in her voice. She’s been dying to go to the beach, talking about it nonstop for the last couple of days.
I can’t help but smile against the back of her hand. “Whatever you want.”
>> <<
Her caramel-colored hair flies in the wind and the skirt of her navy dress whips against her thighs in the slight breeze, flaring out when she twirls around in a circle. Pure happiness is written across her face as her bare feet pad around in the wet sand, the waves lapping at her feet whenever the tide rolls back in. She looks so effortlessly beautiful, her head carelessly thrown back as a wide, blissful smile consumes her face.
The sun is setting around us, the blue sky streaked with various pinks and oranges. Behind her, the ocean and the sunset create the perfect backdrop. I don’t know if I’ll ever see or experience anything as beautiful in comparison again.
She straightens, smiling at me over her shoulder while holding out her hand, beckoning me closer. So much life lights up her eyes that looking into them I feel like I’ve hardly lived.
More than willing, I walk up behind her, wrapping my arms around her waist and resting my chin on her shoulder. I kiss the shell of her ear, and she leans back into my chest, a content sigh leaving her lips.
“Is it everything you dreamed it would be?” I tease, knowing how excited she had been.
“Definitely,” she says, a lazy smile gracing her lips.
I plant a series of kisses along her neck as she watches the ocean and the sky changing colors beyond it.
“Did you come to this beach often?” she asks, and I know she’s lightly probing me for answers about my childhood.
“Once or twice,” I admit vaguely, my lips still attached to her neck. “I rarely ever came to the beach.”
It’s true, I’ve only been to the beach a handful of times. Most of those were when I was in high school, sneaking out to attend parties late at night that were typically busted by the cops. None of my foster parents were fans of that. But I imagine in Olivia’s head the experiences I’ve had here are filled with family fun and sunshine.
She hums in acknowledgment. “Maybe one day you could show me around all the places you used to go to. Your house, school, wherever,” she says, and I can hear the hesitancy and nervousness in her voice, knowing I won’t be too keen on the idea.
I sigh into her shoulder and gently spin her around to face me, brushing her hair out of her face. “I wish I could, but I can’t even count the number of different houses and schools I was shipped off to when I was a kid. I never stayed in one place for long, and all the houses I stayed in with my mother were either abandoned or shitty apartments owned by her lousy boyfriends. I don’t want you to see that,” I admit shamefully.
I watch her eyes fill with sadness. She takes my face in her hands, standing on her tiptoes to place a tender, understanding kiss on my lips. “Okay,” she whispers, resting her cheek against my chest, her arms wound tightly around my waist.
I stroke her hair, resting my chin on top of her head. Heavy silence falls between us; the only sounds are the waves crashing on the shore.
“Do you want to see your grandmother at all?” she asks, breaking the silence.
I close my eyes, holding my breath. “Would you be mad if I didn’t want to see her?”
