Chapter Nineteen
David
I can’t rememberthe last time I’d had so much fun.
After exploring the historical part of Óbidos, we’d looked for a shop where we could get a few souvenirs because Joel wanted to buy his granddad a bottle of ginjinha.
We’d found this tiny shop that sold ginjinha exclusively from Óbidos. The shop was manned by the grandson of the owner, a young guy named Carlos who was in his mid-twenties.
Carlos talked passionately about the sour cherry liqueur and gave us some to try in the traditionally small chocolate cups. Joel loved it and cheekily asked for a second serving. After many questions and five ginjinhas later, we left the little shop with three bottles and felt just a little warm inside from the alcohol.
Afterward, we’d found a nice restaurant where we had dinner and then decided to have a quiet night in. Or so I thought. In fact, after finding a deck of cards in a drawer, Joel decided we should play a game neither of us had played since we were kids called fishy.
It was a simple game where we had to request cards from our opponent until we had all four suits for each rank. In the end, the one with the most complete ranks won the game. The twist in our game was that each time we completed a rank, we had to take a swig of ginjinha, and in each game, the loser lost an item of clothing.
It didn’t take us long to get drunk on the strong liqueur. I can’t remember who won because, at some point, we gave up on the game and just got naked instead.
We were too drunk to have any kind of sex but not enough to suddenly find every single part of our bodies funny.
“You have a tiny heart,” Joel had said, pointing at my chest, his words a little slurry.
“No, I don’t,” I’d said in outrage.
“Yes, you do. Look.” He pointed at the tiny mole on my chest and looked closer, his nose nearly touching me and his breath tickling my chest hair.
“Oh! Now there’s two of them!” he exclaimed.
This carried on until we eventually made it to bed and fell asleep all tangled up in each other.
Of course, seven hours later, I couldn’t quite see why yesterday had been so much fun when my head was pounding and I felt like I could be sick at any moment.
“Stop moving so loud,” Joel groaned.
“Ugh, I’m not moving. You’re moving.”
“Shit. We drank too much last night. I haven’t had a hangover like this since I was in college.”
“Shh,” I whispered and put my arm around him to pull him closer to me. Even with my eyes closed, my mouth found his for a soft kiss.
Our host had left us with a carton of orange juice in the fridge, which we downed as soon as we were well enough to be vertical. Once we had a shower, we checked out of the accommodation and went in search of a café where we could have some breakfast.
It was midmorning by the time we arrived in Ericeira, a fisherman’s village on the coast. The area was known for its surfing waves and seafood, but first and foremost, we were interested in just lying on the beach soaking up the sun.
On our way, we’d stopped at a supermarket and bought some ice for the cooler, soda cans, and some food. Our moms had come to Ericeira in their late teens on a beach day out with some friends, and that’s what we were doing, enjoying a beach day before going back home.
I had mixed feelings about going home. Despite the hangover, I couldn’t remember when I had felt this happy, and I knew Joel was the sole reason for it. I would have carried on traveling with him, having fun, enjoying his company, and for once, acting my age, but reality was going to come crashing in soon, and I’d need to be prepared for it.
Still, right now I was far too happy to worry about real life. We were both lying on our beach towels side by side. We’d remembered to bring a beach umbrella, so our food would remain in the shade while we were in the sun, enjoying it before it became too hot.
Joel was lying on his stomach, his arms supporting his head, facing me. The curve of his body was so inviting, all I wanted to do was run my tongue over it from the back of his knees, then up his butt and back.
“Stop looking at me like I’m a meal,” he said, squinting from the sunlight with one eye open and the other closed.
“What can I say? You’d make a fine meal.”
I scooted over to his towel.
“Hey! Who said you’re allowed on my towel? This is private property—ouch!” he squeaked after I slapped his butt.
