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I spear your look: a fish caught with hunger's deep twinge

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I spear your look: a fish caught with hunger's deep twinge. In dark colors, you descend the stone steps to the beach, holding your hair from your eyes, moving slow against the wind.

You find me across the rocks, set up with a blanket, and raise your arm to greet me. I mirror you and smile, rising to shake sand from the quilt beneath me.

"I was reading the plaque up there," you say as you reach me. Your voice is raised slightly, from excitement or exertion, and you point back at the path. "It seems this was where the Canadian soldiers landed during World War II."

"During D-Day?"

I watch you unzip your boots. You shake your head. "No, before. They failed their raid and were forced to retreat."

"I think about things like that sometimes. That all these people were here before us. Like Claude Monet and the Canadians."

You lower yourself beside me, sitting with your legs outstretched and hands behind you. You look toward the sky and squint. Your profile is subtle, your lips light pink, lashes dark and long. "I think about it, too, and how each sea was different for each of them. Especially during the war."

I hum, a sound that vibrates my chest, and my skin prickles with the thought that I'm with you by the ocean. The waves roll in low and calm, despite the lingering salt of a storm in the air.

Only one other couple sits on the beach, far away, shapes near the cliffs. Above them, the sun hides behind swells of cumulus clouds.

Your large hand skims my back, a rough texture at the space above the band of my swim top. "You went for a swim."

"A short one," I reply. "The water's still a bit too chilly . . . Oh, wait, I liked your warmth."

Your retrieved touch returns. You sweep your palm across my skin again and settle, toying with the clasp between my shoulder blades.

"Did you wait for me long?" You ask.

"It didn't feel long." A cool wind blows through. The hair on my arms rises.

"Oh, good. I was nervous being on the phone so long with you down here by yourself."

Your body suddenly feels substantial beside me, as if I'm sitting near a fire. I turn to the heat.

"You don't need to worry about me."

You look me over with dark green eyes and brows drawn close together. I wonder what you see, how my face looks in the breeze.

"But I do," you say. Your grasp loops to my arm. I turn pliable. Careful beside you, I reach my hand up to your chest, finding the first shirt button already undone. I fiddle with the second and register the subtle lift of your chin that allows me access. "Here in a place you've never been before. I wouldn't want something to happen to you."

"What would happen?" I counter, then shake my head and drop my hand. "Never mind. I'm sorry." Upset rolls through me. The beach here at Pourville is rocky; cliffs rise up behind you and hang over the ocean. The salt air is good for the lungs, the hotel concierge had told me when I left for my swim. I'd nodded and agreed and ducked from the lobby. "I was nervous without you when I left," I give in.

Your gaze is deep and silken. With this closeness, I note the faint purple veins under the skin of your eyelids. I'mrushed back by the realization that you haven't spoken yet. I lick my lips and carry on.

"It's easy when you're with me and you can take care of everything. I like to hide behind you." I smile, then snap my look back to your eyes with a distinct force. "But I mean I don't need you all the time. I can make it. Something just bugs me about being present by myself."

You prod me and I move from your side to your front, in between your spread legs. You stroke my neck and encircle me from behind. "Was it this way the whole tour?"

"Almost. It got worse when we left the UK."

The pads of your fingers press to the vertebrae of my spine. "You didn't tell me."

"I didn't," I murmur.

You hum when you reach my lower back. "Afraid I'd coddle you?"

"No, Jimmy. No, not at all. You have so much on your mind. I can't take up your time."

"But you never do. I've always got time for you, yes?" You touch my jaw with your thumb. I turn and catch your look.

Fears, prickly and bitter, bother my stomach. But I nod all the same and curl into your embrace. "Yes."

The sea rushes into the rocks with a wave and recedes just as quickly. I shut my eyes and listen to the rhythmic crashing and the beating of your heat.

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