Page 5 of When Stars Collide
“If you say June, I’m withdrawing from this wedding. Everyone gets married in June,” I interceded, shuddering as I remembered the three weddings I’d attended in New York in Junethis year alone.
“For once, I agree with Mena.”Luke nodded in my direction.
“There really is a first time for everything.” Peter smiled.
Luke appeared thoughtful as he spoke, “What do you think about May?”
“May,” Elle repeated Luke in such a way that I couldn’t tell whether it was a statement or a question.
“It’s a month rife with pain for the both of us. A wedding—our wedding—could really turn it around.”
Elle reached up and brushed Luke’s chin with her thumb, leaving granules of sand stuck in his stubble. “May it is.” Her eyes widened suddenly. “Wait … May! That’s less than a year from now. Nine months, to be exact. There’s so much to do before then.” She jumped to her feet, her excitement and anxiety joining forces to propel her off the ground. “Mena, I’m going to need your help. There’s the venue, the caterers, the DJ, the flowers—”
“And the booze, which I think I was promised before Luke put a ring on it.” I rested my hand on Elle’s shoulder. “We have time. Plenty of it. A lot can happen in nine months. An entire pregnancy, for example.” I nudged her playfully with my elbow.
“Well, when you put it that way … but we really need to get started soon.”
“And we will, just as soon as we get those drinks.”
Luke stood up and brushed the sand from the back of his shorts. “Well, it seems as though the world has completely been turned upside down, because for the second time in less than five minutes, I’m in complete concurrence with Mena.”
“Then it’s settled,” Peter clapped his hands, “let’s get this party started.”
*****
“It’s meant metaphorically, not literally.” I stumbled over the threshold of our suite into Peter’s outstretched arms, somehow feeling as though that validated my point that much more.
“Baloney,” he countered. “The song goes:Life is but a dream. It clearly means that life is short and fleeting, like a dream—it’s here and then it’s gone. So, you’d better appreciate every last minute of it before it slips away.Why else do you think the composer would have us rowing our figurative boats so quickly?” He took a step back, almost losing his footing before steadying himself on the counter in the suite’s kitchenette.
“Because the song would be rather tedious if it went:Row, row, row, take a break to scratch yourself, row.Not only that, but life itself is a dream. It’s unpredictable, maybe even a little frightening at times; anything can happen. Yet, even when circumstances appear bleak, everything can turn around the next night when we lay our heads down on our pillows. Because like dreams, life is a senseless series of experiences that can either be peaceful and pleasant or a downright nightmare.”
“Did we seriously just argue over the philosophical semantics governing ‘Row, Row, Row Your Boat’ for the last twenty minutes?” Chuckling, Peter encased me in his arms and drew me in closer to him.
“With all due respect,” I replied, holding onto him as tightly as he was to me, “I considered our little debate to be quite stirring, given our present state of inebriation. Especially since not a single bodily function joke was passed by either of us—no pun intended.”
Peter kissed my forehead. If I were but a mere inch shorter, he would have to bend his knees to reach me. As it was, it had to be a major strain on his neck for him just to hold the position he was in. Regardless, his lips lingered on my skin.
“I missed the way you smell.” He spoke so sensually that I felt goose bumps forming down my arms. As hard as I tried, as much as I fought it, he had me unequivocally, and it drove me crazy.
“You missed the smell of sweat and sunscreen?” My fingers lightly traced the lengths of his arms, hoping that I enlivened his senses half as much as he did mine.
“It’s more of an earthy, saccharine scent, yet the contrasts complement each other; not too musky, not too sweet. It reminds me of walking through the woods in the springtime after a good rain. Except tonight there’s a hint of rum in there, too, which only adds to the complexity.”
“You’re saying that I usually smell like a bunch of wet wood, then? I suppose it could be worse.” I tilted my head up until my lips were but a breath away from his.
“Something like that.” He smirked. His arms wound their way around my waist, doing nothing to satiate my present situation. “I know it’s only ever two weeks between our visits, but it feels like the weeks, even the days themselves stretch out further and further every month.”
“I know,” I agreed, brushing my lips practically imperceptibly against his. “Father Time can be an insufferable bastard sometimes. But you know, there are remedies for that.”
“Mena.” The pain and frustration were more evident in his voice now that he’d let his guard down.
“I know … I know.” My fingertips journeyed up his arm, winding their way to the back of his neck. “But I’m here now, and we only have until tomorrow to make every second count.”
“Now that’s something I can do.”
Peter lifted me up into his arms, groaning when I wrapped my legs around his waist. Steadying himself, he pushed my back against the wall, our lips desperately meeting each other, fulfilling a need we both had. His fingers, just as eager, deftly unfastened the buttons on the front of my blouse. Once undone, he pulled it over my head and allowed his lips to trail down my neck. The warmth of his breath ignited a fire within my body. I moaned, my breath hitching in my throat when his mouth reached my clavicle.
“That’s another thing I missed.” I could feel his lips curling up into a smile against my skin when his fingers reached my bra strap and slid it down my shoulder. “Is this new?” he asked admiringly.
