Page 99 of Terms Of Un-Endearment
We break apart long enough for me to set Piper on the wrought iron table. She drops her legs, and with a smile that takes my breath, grabs my shirt to pull me closer. Our lips meet again. Softly at first, then with all the longing we’ve held back. We deepen our kiss. I explore every part of the mouth I’ve been dreaming about for months. The reality is so much better than the dream.
“Archie! Mate!” Dex yells behind me.
With my hand still cradling Piper’s cheek, I pull away and glance at Dex.
“This is a family establishment.” He waves his head toward parents with a baby in a stroller at the table next to us. An older couple at a nearby table both clap and whistle. I hear more clapping coming from inside.
The baby’s mother rests her chin on her hand. “Baby’s asleep. You go right ahead.”
Piper and I both laugh uncomfortably. I take her hand to help her off the table.
Piper waves to a dark-haired woman behind me. “How about we start tomorrow, Anna?”
“Fine with me,” the woman says, looking a little shell-shocked.
I hold Piper’s hand and walk her to the used sedan I traded in the Sprinter for. The day I handed over the Sprinter was almost as rough as waiting to kiss Piper, but then I bought roof racks for my board and discovered the bench seat allows Piper to sit right next to me.
“Where are we going for our date tonight?” She asks as I open the door for her.
“Surfing?” I have everything we need to surf, which means we can do it for free. And free is all I can afford at the moment.
“Or,” she says after I slide into the driver’s seat. “Hear me out—we don’t get in the water and focus our energy on the activity we were previously engaged in.”
“Brilliant. But let’s make it a lunch date.”
“Excellent idea.”
I twine my fingers through hers and drive the couple miles to my favorite beach which is more secluded than the main beach near Frothed. Luck shines on us, and I find a spot to park right away.
Our hands stay locked as we slide out of the car and find the bougainvillea covered gate that opens to a steep paved path toward a small cove. A gentle breeze rustles palm leaves together in a soft shushing sound that echoes the blood pumping through my ears.
Piper’s hand is small in mine. I brush my thumb across her knuckles, dipping between each one, reminding me of the rise and fall of a wave. When we reach the bottom of the steps, I lead Piper to an outcropping of rocks that provides us some privacy.
She leans against the rocks and takes my other hand to pull me closer. My fingers brush the sun-warmed, water-smoothed formation as they curl around her waist. Her long, bright skirt swirls around my legs when I step between hers.
“You don’t need this, do you?” she tugs at the hem of my shirt, and I answer by letting go of her long enough to pull off the T and toss it to my feet.
The collarbone hugging tan line that’s tempted me for months peeks beneath her cardigan. I trace my forefinger over the line, then slide back her cardigan and trace the line again with my lips.
Piper sucks in her breath and walks her fingers around my waist as I work my way from her collarbone to the hard line of her jaw just below her ear. My journey continues all the way to her lips. I take my time, because we have it now. I promised her I would make up for lost time when I finally kissed her, and I do.
After our explosive first kiss, these are slow and quieter but still burst with color, like fireworks mid-show. We’re building toward a grand finale, but that finale will only be the beginning.
Like surfing, kissing is a free activity, and one I plan to engage in with Piper as often as possible, even after we have the money for more expensive activities. I’ve already decided I enjoy kissing Piper more than surfing. And that’s saying something.
I’ve kissed a lot of girls, but I’ve never been able to say I enjoyed it more than surfing. Enjoyed it very much? Yeah. But surfing issurfing.
Then again, Piper’s…well, she’s Piper. And I reckon nothin’ else is ever gonna come close.
The End…
Almost. Keep reading for the Epilogue.
Epilogue
18 months later
Frankie and I are met with the sounds of sewing machines as we walk toward Piper’s office at the far end of her rented workspace. The building used to be a garment factory owned by a fast fashion brand, until they went out broke. Now it’s been turned into large lofts that serve as live and workspaces in the Arts District.
