Page 85 of No Place Like You

“Hey.” He reaches for my hand, and my fingers slip through his easily.

Why are we doing this? Why are we torturing ourselves? I ask myself these questions at the same time I shove all of the rational reasons away. Somewhere where I don’t have to be reminded that even this is temporary. After this week, once my sister is officially a married woman, I really won’t know when I’ll see Dexter again. It could be when Nat and Hayden have their kid’s first birthday or some other milestone-type celebration. Or never. I could never see Dexter again. There’s always the possibility of that being true because whatever future meeting we may or may not have will be through chance. Fate. And as Dexter guides me, tugging at my hand through our linked fingers and veering toward the sandy beach less than half a mile away from the hotel, my heart feels like someone placed a heavy rock on it. Just so I can feel it, the ache, the dull pressure, the heaviness.

Once we reach the sand, I take off my shoes, sinking my feet into the cold ground and letting it fill the spaces between my toes. Dexter follows suit, bending to remove his flip flops before taking my own shoes along with his and reaching for my hand with his free one.

We stay quiet, the sky slowly lighting up and warming the air in the process. When our feet sink a little less into the sand with each step and we reach the water’s edge, we stop. We still don’t say anything, but I hear our shoes drop with a clack and a thud. And Dexter’s hands are on me. One in my hair, the other around my waist. And he kisses me.

I kiss him back, my arms wrapping around his neck. His tongue dips into my mouth, and I whimper, making his hands rough and urgent.

“I’ve been wanting to do that since dinner,” he pants.

“I’ve been wanting to do that since I got in that cab.”

He smiles against the corner of my mouth. “It’s not a competition.”

“If it was, you’d be losing. Miserably.” I laugh, something weak and morose. And I remind myself I shouldn’t be having those thoughts. Wantingto kiss Dexter. Wanting to sink right here into the ground until we’re a hot mess of sand in places it shouldn’t be. But what if we discussed this? Maybe I could move to Brooklyn. Maybe decline the job offer from Elevate, start fresh in a new city. But what about everything I worked for? The past three months would be for nothing.

“Are you okay?” he asks after I’ve stood there too long, silent and brooding, while he holds my face in his hands.

I nod.

“Are you sure?”

I contemplate staying quiet, keeping from him the one thing that could send our reasonings and too rational decisions off-kilter to one side where we could be reckless. But that doesn’t feel right. Because he should know. He should know that when we both go back to our respective homes, it’ll be because we chose soundly. We did the smart thing and let our brain take the reins instead of our hearts. “I got a job offer,” I blurt out.

Dexter looks at me with wide eyes. “What?”

“Um, yeah. Ryan called and told me Elevate is going to send me an official offer letter soon,” I explain. “It’ll be at the LA headquarters, but nothing’s been made official so…”

“When did this happen?”

“Yesterday. On the way to the hotel. Ryan called me up personally.”

“So you’re moving to LA?”

I nod. “Looks like it.”

The realization settles over us, and the silence feels loud. After what feels like eternity, Dexter smiles at me. “That’s great, Lucy,” he whispers, his voice hoarse and heavy. “I’m so proud of you.”

“Dexter…”

“Um,” he interrupts, clearing his throat. “We should get back. With the time difference, everyone might already be up.”

“Yeah,” I agree meekly.

He picks up our shoes and links our hands together again, and we turn our backs to the ocean. We trudge because one cannot simply stroll or amble gracefully through sand. And when we reach the concrete where the sidewalk begins and the area is slowly filling with hotel employees organizing beach chairs and early risers enjoying their first day of a Hawaiian vacation, we pause, looking at our linked fingers. As if we’re taking a moment of silence before we step through the portal back to reality.

Dexter turns to me, pulling me into him for a long, tight embrace. “Thank you for agreeing to see me,” he whispers into my hair. “Can we just…make the most of this? I know we don’t have much time, but whatever moments we can have, can I be a little selfish with you? And I promise I won’t be all clingy from across the country once we go back home.”

He pulls away to look at me, and a tear slips from the corner of my eye. I silently nod, and Dexter swipes his thumb across my cheek.

“Dexter, I…” My voice sounds shaky and wet. And whatever I was going to tell him is stopped by the gentlest kiss. One that lingers on my lips and mixes with the saltiness of my tears.

“Come on,” Dexter says, letting me go. We quietly dust off our feet and put on our shoes before we continue back to the hotel in silence, keeping a good amount of space between us as we make our final steps into the lobby. Dexter taps my forearm, and I wiggle my fingers in his direction. And we part ways.

“I swear, Nat is going to give my dad a heart attack.”

“I don’t know who’s more scared,” Dexter whispers. “Your dad or Nat.”

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