Rivals For Breakfast

47| Salvador

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Rio De Janeiro is beautiful.

I enjoy the sun on my skin and the sand beneath my toes.

We've just gotten off our jet skis. I can still feel the adrenaline of the wind in my hair, and the waves whipping out behind me as I pushed the speed to the highest it would go. Cole was impressed, he didn't expect me to go so fast. I won the race fair and square.

We lay out our towels, readying our limbs to soak up the orange sun. I look over him and his tight abs. He rubs sunscreen over his muscled arms. He looks like a movie star.

"Can you get my back?" I ask, holding out the sunscreen with a pout.

"Turn around" he grabs the bottle from me.

I sprawl out on my towel, poking my butt out so he can get a good look. I imagine him smiling at my failed attempt at being subtle. He takes his time, working the white lotion into the curves of my waist, and then gives my ass a good slap at the end.

"Ouch!" I gasp shooting up to glare at him. He smirks and gives me an innocent shrug. I mindlessly grab a handful of sand, shoving it in his face.

He freezes when the initial shock hits him, moments later he's spitting out a mouthful of grains.

I slap my hands over my mouth, though I can hardly contain my laughter.

"I'm gonna get you" he growls.

"Ahhhhh" I screech, stumbling to my feet and bounding away. He runs after me, easily catching up. His hands grab me by my waist.

He spins me around as I try to contain my laughter.

"Okay sorry, sorry" I pant out. When at last he puts me down, I turn around to get another look at his face. I erupt in another fit of laughter. Sand sticks to his face and lips like he's stuck his face in a bag of powdered doughnuts.

He grasps my cheeks between his palms, rubbing his lips and face all over mine, until we share an even coating.

We fall to the ground in laughter.

"Ouch my cheeks hurt" I moan. I don't think there ever was a time I laughed so hard that my cheeks hurt.

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Picnics at Flamengo Park, rock climbing up Sugarloaf Mountain, hiking at Tijuca National Park, admiring street art at Escadaria Selarón, and a final hot air balloon ride where we overlook the entire mountain, we kiss the island goodbye.

A luxury boat ride transports us to the next destination. We rub elbows with rich people. Cole and some of the guys go on about business, smoking fat cigars and making jokes I'll never understand.

We arrive at Salvador gawking at the unique Portuguese Colonial architecture.

Some of the men have invited us to a party, so as soon as we get into our hotel we're out again.

As we're walking down the street to the party, observing the colorful blue, yellow, and red buildings, a woman approaches us. She reminds me of a gypsy. Her hair is long and grayed, tied down at the top with a red scarf that curls upon itself at the back. A gold tasseled chain spreads over her forehead. She's shrouded in a loose colorful robe of reds, yellows, blues, that match the buildings. Tied around her waist is a scarf, it outlines her full hips along with another gold chain belted around her torso. Her grey eyes are inviting yet they give me chills.

"Come children" she says. Her wrinkled hand reaches out for mine. I understand that there's no choice in the matter, we'll follow her one way or another.