“Are you from around here?” Rick asked. Miami was such a mix of people from all walks of life, even my accent didn’t surprise anyone.
“No, I’m just here until the end of December. Then I’m going back home to Greece.”
Rick’s expression fell, but he masked it by taking off his Vans as we reached the sand. “What brought you here?”
My sneakers in hand, I led us towards my favorite spot. “I wanted hands-on experience at a restaurant other than my father’s. Writing about it would be too subjective. I’m finalizing my thesis for my Restaurant Management degree and my focus is on touristy places. It took some convincing, but my professor let me send my chapters as I write them and meet him online. That way, I could get away and come here for two months.”
“How are you liking it?”
“I’m mostly bussing tables, but the deal I have with the owner allows me to see the business on the inside. I’ve learned much more than I expected to, actually.” I shrugged. It was a great experience, but I was reluctant to fake enthusiasm in front of Rick. “Santiago opened my eyes to the many differences between running a restaurant in the USA and in Europe. Then there is the issue of tips and so on.” I waved a hand, closing the topic. “I’m nearly done with my thesis at this point, so I can spend more time enjoying the city.” I plopped on the sand, near the bushes I usually hid my clothes behind when I went for a night swim.
“So your dad owns a restaurant? That’s pretty cool. You must really love the business to travel so far for research.” Rick sat next to me and used his backpack as a table for his box of quesitos.
I laughed, and if it sounded bitter, then it was honest. “Just the opposite. Traveling, yes. The restaurant stuff? Not really. My dad is a self-made man and I love that for him. But he pressures me to take over the restaurant and even though I’m so close to doing that, I’m still not convinced that’s my life’s path, you know? And the research is not the main reason I came all the way here.”
“What is it then?” Rick offered me a pastry while taking a healthy bite of another one.
I took it and bit into it, savoring the creamy filling. “It was one thing to try to score tickets to see my favorite rock band live, quite another to arrange work and travel to catch them at the biggest Christmas festival in the South.” I winked, proud of my resourcefulness.
“You’re here for Winter at the Beach?” Rick looked shocked as he put his food aside.
“Yeah. My plan is to finish my thesis and wrap up my job to fully enjoy it before going back home for New Years.”
“I’m going to the festival, too.” Rick sat up and fingered his hair back. “My band—the band I’m helping is playing.”
“Really? It must be someone big if you can’t say.” I lifted my hands up. “I don’t have to know, don’t worry, I still wanna help you find the sound you want.”
“Thanks.” He bumped his shoulder into mine.
“Do you travel with the band or live here?”
“I live here. The band—” He shook his head, his locks bouncing around his face. “Despite the humidity everyone complains about, I like it here.”
“I love the heat and humidity, actually.” I waved my upper tentacles and plopped them on my lap instead of wrapping around my arms. “Keeps memoist.”
Rick snorted and patted my tentacle. It was a casual gesture, like touching someone’s forearm, but it sent shivers through me and the suckers expanded, craving more.
“I’m used to it too.” Rick cleared his throat and took his hand away. “I’ve been here for years, but I was born in Puerto Rico.”
He stuffed the last of his pastry into his mouth and pulled out his laptop. After booting it up, Rick squinted and scowled. “Shit, I didn’t think this through.” he said. “I can’t see anything with all this glare from the sun.” He huffed, closing the laptop once more. “Sorry for wasting your time.”
“You didn’t.” I smiled trying to come up with an excuse for us to chat for longer. Between work and not knowing anyone in the area, this had been the best day I’d had in Miami so far.
“We can go to my place, if you’re game.” Rick stood up, patting the sand off his jeans.
“Hmm.” I tapped my chin pretending I was considering it while my insides lit up with excitement. “You’re not a serial killer, are you?”
“No.” Rick chuckled. “Not Bay Harbor Butcher, nor any other kind.”
“Sure, then lead the way.” I took the hand he’d offered and he pulled me to my feet. The breeze from the ocean carried Rick’s scent, and I inhaled the perfume of his clean sweat and a whiff of sugar. Gods, I wanted to lick him.
Chapter Four
Nereus
AshortUberridelater, we entered a gated community. The villa wasn’t Hollywood-style fancy but I still questioned if Rick wasn’t pranking me. The plates in the sink and the vacuum haphazardly left in the middle of the living room gave the place a lived-in feel enough for me to put my doubts to rest.
“You want something to drink?” Rick propped his backpack against the wall and entered the ample kitchen.
