Page 334 of Eternal
“You’re so cold,” I say.
She laughs. It’s quiet, almost tired. “Guess that makes us even.”
We go quiet again for a bit, letting the waves move around us.
I press a kiss to her temple, then murmur, “Come on. Before you freeze to death.”
She doesn’t argue. I grab her hand and pull her with me, back toward the shore. We’re soaking wet, her hair’s stuck to her face, and mine’s a mess, but she’s smiling like we got away with something. She tugs her shirt back on over wet skin, and I hug her without even thinking.
“Your teeth are chattering,” I say.
“I’m okay.”
Then, we drop down on the blanket, wrapped in each other and damp clothes. Her legs are tangled over mine, and I’m holding her close like it’s the only thing keeping us warm, or sane.
She kisses my jaw, and I kiss the edge of her mouth.
Even the sky seemed to hesitate when it touched her face, as if afraid to brighten what was already inside me when I looked at her.
I don’t know what she does to me, but it makes me want to look at her when I’m supposed to be looking away. It makes me want to stay and kiss her even when all I’ve ever wanted was to leave this whole life.
I never cared before, not like this. I kept my heart out, in a box hidden underneath so many layers of indifference because it was easier, safer. But with her, the layers feel fragile, like they’re collapsing every time her eyes meet mine.
My hands want to take it out, hold it and see if it beats with her name as its rhythm. We don’t even talk for a while. Just hold each other andbreathe. The waves formed a background soundtrack to the whole scene, and the sky warmed up to our caresses.
Eventually, she laughs again against my mouth, that soft, throaty laugh that only comes out when she’s fully relaxed. She presses her cheek against my shoulder. “You smell like seaweed.”
“You like it?”
“I weirdly do.”
I wrap my arms tighter around her, bury my face in her hair, and breathe her in. She sighs against me, her fingers trailing slowly along my side like she doesn’t even know she’s doing it. And it’s quiet again, but in a good way.
The sky is different now, black fading into that weird soft blue, a little gold creeping at the edges.
She notices first. “Shit. It’s morning.”
I groan. “Already?”
We sit up reluctantly, brushing sand off each other, grabbing our stuff. She tries to fix her hair while I pull on my shirt half-wet and give up halfway through.
We make it to the car, her hand still in mine, fingers wrinkled from salt water and cold. She leans into me, dragging her shoes in one hand, and I pull her closer.
Because I’m weak when it comes to my partner.
I scoop her up, one arm under her legs, and she laughs against my chest like she’s surprised, but not really because she even curls into me. “You’re so dramatic,” she mumbles, grinning.
I only tighten my hold. “I’m a gentleman.”
When we get to the car, I open the back door, not the front. She blinks, then looks up at me, brows raised.
“Oh? We’re not going back now?”
I set her down just at the edge of the backseat, my hand lingers on her waist. She’s still wearing her shirt, her hair wet and wild, face flushed from cold and laughter.
I look her in the eyes. “Take that shirt off.”
Her mouth opens, a breath caught between a protest and a tease.
