Page 32 of Property of Rio
“Somewhat.” His brow furrowed. “The ground below isn’t bright with sand like this.” His attention dropped to the gritty white grains. “In our kingdom, the sand is darker, almost black, and small crystals mixed in make it shimmer like polished silver. This . . .” He gestured with his hand. “It’s as if the earth stretches out to meet the brightness of your sky.”
It was hard to explain how it felt, hearing him talk like that, as if everything was exciting because it was my world and not his. Warmth settled somewhere deep in my belly, and I sent my gaze to the horizon where the sky met the endless expanse of ocean, blending from turquoise to indigo to the palest of blues.
He reached for my hand, pausing as his fingers brushed mine. I looked up, catching his eyes—dark, questioning. Vulnerable.
Did he think I’d shrug off his touch?
A part of me wanted to say something light, to pass this off like touching, looking at each other, and what happened in the bedroom this morning didn’t pull at my heartstrings. But trust flickered between us, him offering, me accepting. That mattered more than the overanalyzing thoughts pinging around in my head.
With a smile that held some of my own vulnerability, I wove our fingers together, squeezing his hand.
His gaze softened. My heart gave a little kick, and something akin to warmth unfurled there too. It was too soon for more. Too early to say what this feeling was. But if anything, I knew Ostor wouldn’t hurt me. And that was enough for now.
He tugged his sunglasses from his bathing suit pocket and slipped them on to shield his eyes, and we walked down toward the ocean, our footsteps scrunching on the sand. When wereached the waterline, I stared at the vast beauty. A wave rushed in, washing over my toes, making me grin. Cool water swirled around my ankles, splashing before retreating.
“It’s colder than I expected,” I said, a freeing laugh rising up my throat.
Ostor contemplated the water as it swept across his feet. “Not too cold.” He took a step forward, letting more wash over him, his green toes wiggling in the buffeted sand. “So strange. It feels alive.”
I joined him, the water splashing against my knees. “Alive?”
“Yes.” He watched the next wave roll in. “We have vast rivers. The water flows endlessly there. But there’s nothing that moves like this in the orc kingdom. It roars in and then backs away, only to come at us again. Alive, like a fluid beast.”
I waved toward the slice of a moon nearly hidden in the sky. “Tides create the rush of water up the shore, the waves, but don't ask for an explanation beyond that. As I said, science has never been my forte.”
He nodded. “Our lakes sparkle from the minerals coating the bottom. but the currents move sluggishly compared to this. They never catch you by surprise. Can you turn this off?”
I laughed, picturing him trying to wrestle with a stubborn current or the moon itself. “It's endless, timeless. The water flows up and retreats. Like life, I suppose. We're born, we live, and we die. Then the cycle is repeated with someone else. The ocean’s got a mind of its own. You can’t tame it or slay it.”
“I don’t think I’d want to,” he said, half to himself, as the next wave hit our legs. “It fights, but there's a beauty to its battle.”
We turned and walked parallel to the water, the waves teasing our feet. On our right, grand resorts gleamed and palm trees swayed in the breeze. Fellow tourists strode along the shore while others jogged on the packed sand. Couples strolled hand in hand like us, and kids holding bright plastic buckets and shovelsbuilt fortresses in the sand. The wind kicked up little gusts, shooting warmth around us, and I could tell today was going to be another scorcher.
Peace settled over me as we took it all in.
“So, what do you think?” I asked, glancing up at him.
He didn’t answer right away, his gaze locked on where the ocean met the sky, his fingers snug around mine.
“I think . . .” He smiled a grin so unguarded it made my chest expand. “I think it's nice to be here because I’m with you.”
For once, I didn’t overthink my response. I let the feeling settle, let this moment linger to give it what it deserved.
“Yeah,” I said, squeezing his hand. “It is.”
Sunlight glimmered on the water’s surface, casting the world below in shifting silver and blue, so bright I still had to squint behind my sunglasses.
There was something about walking here with Ostor, something about just . . . being with him alone, that did something wonderful to me, though I couldn’t define what the feeling might be. It didn’t need a label. I didn’t need to think about what came next or try to figure out where whatever this was between us could be going.
For once, I was okay with not knowing.
I’d been holding onto anxiety about this weekend, about Jacob and Macy, about the whole awkward situation of faking a relationship with a guy I barely knew. But walking with Ostor made all that drift away.
We continued in comfortable silence for a while, swerving around clusters of people, tracing the tide’s edge as it ebbed and flowed against the pearly white sand.
As we passed a group of kids splashing in the shallows, Ostor tilted his head, curiosity creeping into his voice. “What do your sea gods think of all this water?”
“Some cultures have myths about sea gods, but most people just come to enjoy the beach without thinking about it that way. It’s a place for relaxation, family time, fun.”
