I need to touch her so the moment she is in reach, I grasp her hand. Shock passes her expression when my fingers wrap around her delicate ones, my hand enveloping hers. Such an intimate move but not one I haven’t done before. Perhaps it feels to her like it does for me.
So, I hold her hand as if I can tether her to me, like I can hold her permanently to me in fear that one day she may leave. And despite being the selfish asshole that I am, I know I’d let her go. But with this link, with everything I am, I hold her, I show her without words that I need her like a rope to the earth, grounding me.
It’ll only take one sharp knife to cut it. I know that. But I cling because inside, I am terrified.
Olivia demanded I take off my shoes the moment we hit the sand.
She pretended like I hadn’t been here before, hadn’t felt the sand between my toes or experienced the waves against my skin as I walked where the sea met the earth.
I didn’t have the heart to tell her no.
I thought myself heartless. Without a soul.
Until her.
She’s unearthed a precious rare gem within me, something I long thought dead. And I want to treasure it, keep it safe.
Olivia walks by my side, her own sandals, hooked by the straps, dangling from her fingers as she takes easy slow steps through the white sand beneath her feet. Her chin is angled toward the sea, where the sun is setting, casting a brilliant pink and orange glow atop the surf that rolls toward the land.
The setting sun kisses her skin, so lovinglylighting her up as if it has waited eons to do so, touching every line of her body with a stroke of pure light that makes me ache from within. I still have her hand in mine, her dainty fingers curled tight like she believes I’d ever let her go.
The sand filters between my toes, grainy and rough and yet soft, a cushion as we walk. The ocean sings the song of its tides, the foamy white edge drawing close but never touching where we walk.
“This is beautiful,” Olivia whispers above the roar of the sea.
“It is one of the only places I feel myself,” I admit.
“No weight,” she comments, “Nothing to drag you down.”
I nod though she isn’t looking, still staring out at the wonder of the sea. “I’ve only been to the beach a few times. It wasn’t a vacation our family took often but whenever I did, I always found myself near the water. It’s like music.”
“Music?” I question.
“Yes,” She answers, “Can’t you hear it?” Her deep brown eyes turn to me expectedly.
I shake my head, hating the disappointment that contorts her face. “Listen.” She says.
My breath stalls, shallowing as I obey her command.
I hear the grain of the sand shifting beneath our feet, like sugar emptying into a pot, but more than that, I hear the roar of the ocean, starting out low, an echo that draws closer before it crashes against something solid. It howls as it slams against the shore, hissing asit withdraws to try again, as if in a bloody, endless battle. The sea against the land.
“Music,” Olivia repeats, sighing, “It feels endless. Like no matter where we are, the past, the present or the future, that sound will never age.”
The ocean. The sea.
She likes the sea.
I tuck away that kernel of information, changing our direction. It isn’t dark yet, the sun is still making her descent which has set the waves ablaze, dipping beyond the horizon ready for night to reign, but she still clings on. Giving a lasting impression, a last war cry before she submits to the power of the night.
I can’t help but compare the two, the sun and moon, to me and Olivia.
“What is this?” She breathes.
I look toward the intimate table, set for two, placed beneath the clear skies and separate from the packed restaurant further up from the beach.
“This is our first date,” I say, full of confidence yet underneath, I don’t feel that way at all.
“You did this?” she asks with a breathy laugh.
