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Veronica huffed lightly, her glorious backside grazing against my swim trunks as she turned back around. Our faces were now inches apart. The proximity sent a jolt of electricity through me. I glanced down at her body, then back up to her eyes. The smell of the coconut sunscreen wafting from her body wasn’t making it any easier. I was suddenly in the mood for a piña colada, with Veronica as the key ingredient.
I swallowed hard. “Need any more … sunscreen anywhere else?”
“No, thanks,” she said quickly, playfully pushing me away before walking toward the crystal-clear water.
“Hey! Wait a minute!” I said, then when she turned around, I added, “You need to have the sunscreen on for at least fifteen minutes before entering the water, or it will wash right off.”
I grabbed my rolled towel from the large beach bag, flinging it open, then taking a seat with my arms across my bent knees.
Veronica hesitated, then sighed, walking back toward me. She pulled out her towel and placed it on the sand next to mine. Then she bent over to straighten out the towel, her derrière practically in my face.
Dear God, help me …
She finally sat down, then glanced over at me. “Why do you have that look on your face?”
“What look?” I stuttered, trying to play innocent but failing miserably.
Veronica smirked, then lay down on her towel, arching her back slightly as she adjusted herself. “That looks like you’re up to something.”
“Who, me?” I said, feigning surprise. “Never.”
She placed her sun hat over her face and sighed, a sound that was half contentment, half exasperation. “I’m watching you, August.”
“Right,” I muttered under my breath, struggling to focus on anything but the alluring sight beside me.
Was Veronica torturing me on purpose? Every move she made seemed like a deliberate tease. The way she arched her back, the little sighs, brushing sand off her thighs, the nonchalant way she adjusted her bikini—it was enough to drive a man insane.
“Why are you still staring?” she said from under her hat.
“I’m not staring,” I lied, looking out at the water, trying to think of anything but her.
“I can feel it,” she retorted.
“You must be imagining things,” I said, rubbing the back of my neck.
She lifted the hat slightly, one eye peeking out at me. “Uh-huh. Sure.”
“Well, what do you know?” I said, standing quickly. “Time’s up! I think I need to cool off.”
Veronica laughed as I rushed into the water and kept walking until it was up over my waist. After what felt like an eternity, she finally got up and joined me, not saying a word. The warm, crystal-clear water was so inviting; it felt like a warm bath. We swam out farther, enjoying the peacefulness of the moment. Every now and then, I’d steal a glance at her, admiring the way the water made her skin glisten.
“This is incredible,” Veronica finally said, her voice filled with genuine wonder.
“I agree,” I said, trying to focus on the serene beauty around us and not on the temptation beside me.
We waded even further from shore, the soft sand beneath our feet. The world seemed to fall away, leaving just the two of us in this vast, tranquil ocean.
“We’re quite far out now,” Veronica observed, looking around. “I can’t even see our things on the shore anymore.”
“Don’t worry about that,” I reassured her. “Just enjoy the water.”
And we did. For a moment, all the complications between us seemed to dissolve, leaving behind only the simple pleasure of being together in such a breathtaking place. The silence wasn’t awkward but comfortable, a testament to the familiarity and ease that had once defined our relationship.
We swam around, the water enveloping us in its warm embrace. However, the fluctuating tide had its own agenda, subtly pulling us away from our isolated patch of beach towards an adjacent one, where there were many more people, in the water and on the shore. Veronica pointed to the impressive rock formations crowning the next beach, where restaurants perched above them hummed with lively music.
“Look at that,” she said, her voice laced with wonder.
We both paused, taking in the breathtaking view. It was a stunning sight, a scene that postcards could never fully capture.
