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The water was warm, but the sun was warmer. Kyle was swimming and going deeper and farther into the ocean. Feeling drowsy, I had drifted away from him. Floating in the still sea that was as clear as spring water, I yelled I was going to lie down. He gave me a thumbs up from far away and I blew him a kiss. I swam back to the shore and waddled to the white towels spread out a few feet away. By my towel was a mystery novel that I had been meaning to read for the past two months, but with Kyle Paxton and our lives now tangled together, it had been hard to do anything mundane like reading for fun.
For the past five days, Kyle and I had been in Turks and Caicos, where he had taken me for a getaway. Our trip had not taken place after Christmas as he initially planned—it had taken us two months to finally coordinate this thing. I sank my toes deeper into the white sands of the beach and lay back on my towel, squinting at the sun. The sky was the same color as the distant waterline of the North Atlantic Ocean. A pale Tiffany blue with a hint of turquoise stone mineral. Sighing in utter bliss, I put a straw hat on my sun-kissed face and closed my eyes.
This place is perfect.
We were at Emerald Cay—a Turks and Caicos island that was privately owned by a Kuwaiti friend of Kyle’s. That friend was in Europe and we had the entire eleven-acre tropical paradise as our own playground. Our time here had been unearthly. As far-fetched as an out-of-body experience. The raw beauty of the island was irresistible. Who could resist the siren song of the waves, the frothy latte foam creaming the curves of the sand, or the fat clouds floating like puffs of smoke in the silky sky, and at night, the pure orange and purple pastels of the tropical sunset on the endless skyline? No one.
No human, for sure.
At the west water edge of Emerald Cay was the beautiful vacation villa, where we went only to spend the nights. During the day, we packed in all the fun it was possible to squeeze into the hours we had. We toasted in the tropical sun, swam in transparent turquoise waters, hiked on grassy trails, sailed around the mini islands, and spent countless hours lazing on bleached white sands. I introduced Kyle to the art of snoozing on the beach with a book and my adrenaline junkie introduced me to his favorite water sports. In the past five days, I had learned the basics of surfing, snorkeling, scuba diving, and kiteboarding.
The only way to the main island was to take the yacht docked by the quay and go north. We ventured out every evening to hit the resorts and mainland nightlife. Not that we needed anyone else in our nightlife. Our nights were searing hot and oh-so-fun.
And now that fun was going to end.
Our time here so far had been the best time of my life and paled in comparison to any other time with Kyle.
I’ll never forget these five days of heaven.
Or any day with Kyle.
I blinked. The past two months had been unreal. Since the day he had come to my room after Christmas, my life had changed. Just like that, my single status was updated. Every part of me that had been floating in the vacuum of doubt fell into clarity. The sword of Damocles over my head vanished.
All the things I’d been waiting for (things I didn’t even know I needed) arrived—like neat lines of soldiers waiting for my command. Kyle and I felt solid. Our relationship felt real. It was made with a foundation that would survive the damage of time. I hadn’t thought such happiness was possible in this broken world of ours.
It took me by surprise.
Though we lived at the two ends of continental America, we could not have been closer. Closer than we had been to anyone else in our lives. Kyle had synced our calendars and when we were apart, we talked and texted all day. I woke up to a text from him and at night we talked until our words were gone. It became a habit to discuss our future as one. Kyle never told me he loved me—but it didn’t matter to me.
Words didn’t matter, actions did. He was the pick of my lousy bunch and (by dumb luck) the most devoted lover a girl could ask for. He had been keeping it all in check until I came along.
And time rolled on.
I could not believe how fast the past few weeks had flown by. We scheduled meeting in the Midwest and San Francisco on alternating weeks. When Kyle came my way, we stayed at the Aloft Hotel in Detroit and explored the downtown area. In the evenings, we met up with Willow and Clive and dined at their favorite rooftop lounges, as he was still filming a movie there. On the weekends I spent in San Francisco, we painted Kyle’s city red. His house had changed. It went from being a sad concrete citadel to being, simply, a home.
He’d noticed.
He too had changed. He was relaxed. Optimistic. Happy.
We were both happy, like two drifters on a permanent vacation. In my glib security, I doubted anything could tear us apart now. Sometimes I heard a whisper of doubt, the what ifs and the then whats. If Kyle and I broke up, I didn't know if I’d survive. I was not as strong as I'd thought I was before I met him.
I was an emotional fraidy-cat—not fit for the penalty of an unloved life.
On our past weekends together, every time I saw him, I got weak at the knees. The moment we were alone together, I would run across the room, throw myself in his arms and kiss him until he lifted me and threw me on the bed. At night, lying in his arms I learned how to please a man and teach him what pleased me. I discovered I had urges and cravings I did not know existed. I marked and shot the shy girl in me and it didn’t take long for me to master my own wants and needs.
Everyone around me noticed the change in me. At work, my colleagues were curious at the mystery of why I was a chipper little bird. Only Stacy and Trevor knew about Kyle. They teased me daily to hash out every second of our time together.
At home, my joy was a contagious virus. Cypress was happier. He spent a lot of time pestering me about Kyle. Every time Kyle dropped me off, he spent time with Cypress. This had given Cypress the confidence to finally ask his online crush, Sofia Felipe, out. Perhaps he’d just needed a kickass role model. At long last, Cypress had gone on his first date. After that date, Sofia and Cypress became an item. Soon, they were inseparable.
A cute, shy and spunky nerd, Sofia was perfect for Cypress, as if she was a virtual avatar created for him. She was militant about Dragon Vista, the other-life world where she had met Cypress. Instead of going out, Sofia and Cypress preferred to stay home, order pizza and get lost in parallel play gaming.
Having children busy in relationships was a good thing for Mother. She got the courage to step out and go grocery shopping on occasion. Once, she had even met up with an old church friend. This may not have seemed like a big deal to an outsider, but it was huge for our isolated little tribe. Time and again, I thought of visiting my father, but my already hectic roster of work-and-Kyle left me no time for anything else. Raymond Smoke would have to wait some more.
Especially on this slice of paradise called Emerald Cay.
“Hey,” Kyle called out, disrupting my drowsy reflections. “Wanna swim some more?”
I threw my hat off and saw him wading in the clear waves to get to the shore. Propping myself on my elbows, I watched him march to me. His browner-than-usual chest glistened wet and gold and my eyes went to the sheer power of his limbs in motion as they stopped by my towel.
Can’t believe that guy belongs to me.
He loomed over me, blocking the sun. “Hey, sleepyhead. So no more swimming?”
I shook my head. “I just wanna enjoy this. The whole point of a lazy vacation.”
“You’re just lazy in general,” he said, flopping down next to me.
I stuck my tongue out at him, and with an impish grin put the hat back on my face. “Too lazy to come up with a zinger. Last day of sun. I’m gonna soak it up and take it to Ann Arbor.”
“That is not how a vacation works.” He leaned over and removed the hat from my face. “Nor how soaking up the sun works.” Scooting closer, his hands went to my bikini top. “See, you have to remove all items of clothing to ensure you can collect the maximum amount of sun to take back.”
“Kyle Paxton, we were in the water for hours. Let me relax.”
“Nope,” he said with a bad boy slant of his lips. Then, with a hungry look, he said he needed to inspect every part of me to ensure I hadn't gotten any tan lines. Kyle took off my red top and flung it far, far away. Shrieking, I tried to mock-wrestle and he hesitated, waiting for my answer, worried I may be genuinely saying no.
Not a chance.
I opened my arms wide and we faded to black.
In Ann Arbor and San Francisco, each moment felt special in Kyle’s presence, but our time at Turks and Caicos was oddly beautiful—the stuff visions of forever are built on. When I got back to Ann Arbor, winter was meaner than ever, and I felt like a goldfish in a snow bowl. Going through vacation withdrawal symptoms, I missed our time together.
The next weekend was awful.
It was the weekend after our trip and the first weekend Kyle and I decided not to meet up since we had gotten together. Instead of working on my panel speeches with Dean Dillon, I wasted the hours calling and texting Kyle. I cried that Sunday night, which just happened to be Valentine’s Day. I cried at missing him. I cried at why I missed him. I cried at losing myself.
The girl I was, before I’d met Kyle, was gone.
I realized I could not live without him.
The weight of my feelings for him frightened me.
The next morning I got a call from him urging me to consider moving in with him. This was my one holdout. I would not give in to his repeated demands that I move in with him, though this was a perfect solution to my missing him. The idea of leaving Mom made me anxious and...kinda itchy, like I had an allergic reaction to the very idea. The idea of leaving Cypress was like being prodded by the Heretics Forks, a mediaeval torture device with two forks that lanced the chin and chest of its unlucky bearers.
But I knew that day was coming.
