After an hour of quality time, we spent the rest of the day on the beach consuming copious amounts of alcohol and talking about a variety of subjects. School, my family, Mark. Such mundane things to the average person, but so critical to our fragile relationship.
“Why don’t we all have dinner?” London asks as Kayne and I stand to leave.
Both Kayne and Jett look at me. No pressure or anything.
“Um, sure.” I smile as genuinely as possible. “That sounds fun.”
I think.
“Good!” London responds excitedly. “The sushi restaurant here is supposed to be amazing.”
“Sushi it is, then.” I pull on my cover-up.
“You eat sushi?” Kayne asks me.
“Of course, I do. I’m from New York. It’s one of my five food groups.”
“Perfect! Mine, too.” London’s big blue eyes sparkle. I stole glances at her and Jett all throughout the day. They make one beautiful couple. “She could live off the stuff,” Jett chimes in.
“Eight o’clock?” I ask.
London nods zealously.
“See you then,” I say as Kayne laces our fingers together and leads me away from the beach. I tighten my grip, still getting used to him holding my hand. Still getting used to him holding me period—not ashamed to admit that I like the way it feels.
“Do you eat sushi?” I ask him, realizing I have no idea if he likes raw fish or not. Or if he has any allergies or likes to sleep on the right or left side of the bed. Besides how he takes his coffee and his sexual preferences, I really don’t know much about him.
“Yes. If I’m forced to.” He grins down at me.
“Oh, no.” I stop walking.
“It’s fine, Ellie.” He tugs me along. “There will be something on the menu that I’ll eat. I’m not picky. Trust me. It’s a meal, I’ll never pass it up.”
“Okay. Well, what do you like to eat?”
“Simple stuff. I’m a meat and potatoes guy. I could live off rare steak and cold beer.”
“I’ll keep that in mind. Is there a preferred dessert I should know about?”
“Cupcakes, of course. And before you ask, my favorite flavor is between your legs.” He informs me lewdly.
“Kayne.” I smack him playfully right on his washboard abs.
“It’s the truth.” He hugs me against him as we walk toward the long line of bungalows stretching out over the water. Ours is far off in the distance.
“Where did you grow up?” I ask.
“Detroit.”
“Tough city.”
“You have no idea.”
“Tigers fan?”
“Not in the least.”
“Yankees fan?”
