I didn’t get a chance to ponder on that question because now he was just grappling with clothes and getting himself dressed, and there were Crocs on his feet. Yes, I grimaced. He stuck his tongue out at me.
Bewildering wasn’t even the start of this.
“I know they’re fuck-ugly, but they’re comfy. Simple.”
“Practical.”
“Absolutely.”
And then he hoisted me up in his arms and carried me out the patio doors, letting them slide shut behind us.
“Am I too heavy?” I asked. Like. Fuck. Who was I and what on earth was I letting happen here? His steady pace in the sand. Not even out of breath as I had my arms around his neck, and my head awkwardly trying to figure out where to go. I wanted to lay it down against his shoulder. Kissthe skin on his neck. Just smell him. The sun setting gently around us, the sky almost pink on the horizon.
Food. I was bloody starving, and here I was being carried…and now he was putting me down.
“You’re too heavy. My back…”
“I’ll walk,” I said, then I tried to take a step on my socked foot. Ehhr. No.
“Get on my back,” he said.
How old were we? Five? But apparently I had lost all free will and did as I was told. Climbed on so I was on his back.
Piggy-back. The laughter spilling out of my mouth was ridiculous. But…
“This is crazy.” I giggled.
“It is,” he said softly.
The thing it was? It was lovely. Because now my lips were pressed to his neck and I could smell him, and nuzzle into him and my arms were around his front so I could even stroke his stubble and he was…
Everything he was. It was a little much. Overwhelming in the ways I loved. I could even admit that to myself. And for a little while there, everything was blissful. Just him and me, walking quietly on the sandy path in the almost dark. All I could hear was him breathing to the backdrop of the waves against the beach. Lights blinking in the distance. The soft rustle from the palm trees.
And then suddenly he turned, and we were walking up towards the restaurant, the double doors wide open, a staff member in place to welcome us inside.
I didn’t want inside. I wanted to stay here, with him, where it was just the two of us and I didn’t have to deal with anything on the inside.
I meant that in every way possible.
“Do you…” he started.
“I’ll have to go see them,” I replied. Like we could read each other’s minds when we clearly couldn’t.
“Mr Fairweather,” the staff member said, looking awkward. “Your party has moved to join another table. Will you be requiring your assigned table?”
Poor Noah looked as confused as I felt.
“I’m with table ten,” I blurted out. Because I was. And I had no clue. If he had asked my name? At this point, I wouldn’t have been able to answer it, standing here, my hand sliding into Noah’s.
Like a child. I was a bloody child.
And now the staff guy nodded, and we were… Well, Noah was walking, I was hobbling using Noah as my human crutch, and it was all…
Oh.
Okay?
So. Here was the big table, and a load of people, and where I’d been sat last night was Noah’s dad, who was engaged in some kind of intense conversation with Simon, and then Pawel was next to Noah’s mum and Huw and Andy were pouring wine from a bottle…which made no sense since the wine came from a machine.
