The Unhoneymooners

I hear the wet splat of his board shorts just as I’m working my bikini bottom down my shivering legs, and am highly aware that Ethan’s butt is probably only inches away from mine.
I experience a moment of pure terror when I imagine how mortifying it would be for our cold, wet butt cheeks to touch.

I slide open the door as quietly as I can; he looks pretty relaxed.
I’m sure he’s thinking about drowning puppies, but I’m not here to judge.

I’m so used to seeing our faces together, so used to how she fits against my shoulder. I love her eyes and her skin and her smile. I love our wild moments and our quiet ones. Love fighting and fucking and laughing with her. I love how easy we look side by side

It’s right then that I hold my phone up, snapping a selfie of Olive and me on the beach. The sky is a calming purple-blue. Her hair is blowing across her face, we’re both a little tipsy. Our feet are bare, toes digging in the warm sand, and the happiness in our expressions is palpable. It’s a great fucking photo.

I stare down at it, spinning a little inside

That really is a terrible color,” I say.

He laughs, giddy. “I know.”

“Like, it says a lot that even someone as cute as you can’t pull it off.”

I watch his smile turn into something heated and seductive. “You think I’m cute?”

“In a gross way.”

He laughs at this, and it honestly sends a sharp pang through my chest how much I love that smile, on this face. “Cute in a gross way. Okay.”

“You’re the worst,”

Of course I am. The only thing better than you in that dress was you out of it.” Ethan stands, and now everyone is really looking at him.

I did,” he says. “And I miss you, so much. I wanted to tell you how sorry I am.”

“Here?” I ask.

“Here.”

“While I’m working?”

“While you’re working.”

“Are you just going to repeat everything I say?”

He tries to wrestle his smile under control but I can see how much this exchange lights him up inside.

You fell in love with me?” I whisper

You fell in love with me?” I whisper

“Did we just decide something?” he asks.

I squeeze my eyes closed, grinning. “I think so.”

“Good. Because I’m sort of crazy about you.”

Holding my breath, I quietly admit, “I’m crazy about you, too.”