Page 59 of Chasing Clouds

“Like what? I feel like you know most all of it by now.”

“Do you have a bucket list?” She kicks her legs up behind her and my eyes trace the curve in her back to her ass.

“Not really.” I lie down next to her on my side, propping my head up on my hand.

“That can’t be true. Everyone has a list of things they consider to be their dreams and goals in life.” Between the hat and her sunglasses, I can’t really see her face, but she’s shaking her head like she doesn’t believe me.

“Okay, dreams and goals,” I repeat, thinking about her words and how they apply to me, my life. “Goals I’m on board with. I guess you could put winning the Super Bowl on there for me, but as for dreams, why are the things we most desire to do in life dreams? Dreams are fake, not reality. If something is important enough to me, I’ll make it happen. It’s as simple as that.”

She rolls on her side to mirror me as she contemplates my response. The top of her bikini gaps a little, and I desperately want to push her onto her back and lick from her navel to her throat.

“All right, wise guy. What about someone who wants to visit Italy but doesn’t have the money? Wandering through small villages, eating amazing pasta, drinking wine from the vineyards, seeing famous structures from the past like the Colosseum—this is on their list to do in their lifetime, a dream for them.”

She has a point. I understand wanting to do things but there being a lack of money. Look at where I’m from and how my mom worked to provide for us, even if we didn’t have a lot.

“Okay, I’ll give you that, but not everything on everyone’s list should be focused around the fact that they don’t have enough money. Think about those who want to run a marathon, hike the Appalachian Trail, or write a book. It’s free to run, free to hike, and free to write. These would be goals. These things are obtainable, and if they mean enough, a person will make them happen.”

“So terrible.” She shakes her head. “A bucket list is supposed to be romanticized and admired by the individual creating it. You make it sound like a to-do list—so uninspiring.”

“I don’t mean to. Like I said, I’ve never really thought about it. I like setting goals for myself and achieving them.”

“Agree to disagree. Now tell me what’s on your life to-do list.” She smirks, and behind my sunglasses, I roll my eyes.

“Obviously win the Super Bowl at least once during my career. I plan to buy my mom a home and have her accept it. Soon, I’d like to buy myself one, and after having Zeus around, maybe even get a dog.”

“That’s it?” She frowns. “Isn’t there anywhere you’d like to go, something you’d like to see?”

Picking up some sand from the ground between us, I rub it between my fingers and watch as it falls. My answer to her question feels personal; it makes me feel vulnerable, and I’m not sure I like it. If anyone else were to ask me this, I wouldn’t answer, but I know sharing thoughts like this, sharing parts of me with her—it’s okay.

“There’s never been one particular place I wanted to go. I just want to go everywhere. That was the goal growing up—to get out of the Bronx and see the world, the world being anywhere other than New York City. You would call it a childhood dream to play in the NFL, but I saw it as my ticket out, a goal. If I worked hard enough, I could make it happen, and I did. From the moment I stepped onto that first plane ride in college till now, I’ve been everywhere. Every game in every city was a new adventure. Do I have dreams of going somewhere far away and exotic? Not really. If the opportunity arose, great, I would go in a heartbeat, but it isn’t anything I sit around and think about. What about you? Clearly you’ve thought long and hard about this.”

Watching me, she reaches over and swirls her finger in the sand pile I just made. She smashes it down and I shake my head at her silliness. She giggles.

“I want to own my own store. It doesn’t even matter where, I just want it to be mine and I’d like to call it Vintage Soul. I want to see the Northern Lights in their full brilliance. I want to take a hot air balloon ride.”

Is it wrong that as she talks about the things on her list, the wheels in my brain start turning as to how I can make all of them happen? That would imply that we are going to be together longer than the two months, though, something neither one of us has talked about.

“A hot air balloon ride—aren’t you worried about falling out?”

She laughs. “No! It’s a big basket. There’s no falling out.”

“Hello.” I wave my hand over my body. “Big guy here. Basket won’t be that big if I get in one.”

“Wait.” She sits up. “Are you scared of heights?” She’s grinning from ear to ear.

I sit up with her and start packing up our things. “No, I’m not afraid of heights. I just don’t see the need to put myself in a situation where I could possibly die. Admit it, plunging toward the earth after falling out of a hot air balloon would be a really dumb way to die.”

She throws her head back and laughs even louder this time. I love her laugh. “Reid, if you fell out of a hot air balloon, people wouldn’t say, ‘Wow, what a dumb way to die.’ They’d say, ‘Wow, that guy is a dumbass for falling out.’”

I can’t help but laugh along with her. She’s right, and I would be the first person to say that too.

“Speaking of rides, our half-day rental is probably getting close to being up.”

She frowns, but her skin is already starting to look pink. I run my finger down her shoulder and she sees it too.

“Come on, princess. Time to go.”

Together we wade out to where the boat is anchored. I toss the food and beach bags onto the back then position us so we’re right next to the motor. The water comes up to my chest, and she has to hang on to me to prevent herself from going under. We’re still close to the island, not out in the open water, but we’re mostly concealed from anyone who might see us.