Chapter 18

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It's been forever (actually it's only been six weeks) but finally, my stitches have healed, and now I'm all set to learn how to bodyboard from David, if you catch my drift.

I've never f*cked in the sea before, but as long as the water isn't too salty, and the sand settles at the bottom so that I'm not birthing sand for days, I think I'll be fine.

"You sure you'll be okay to swim?" David asks me in an uncertain voice, hauling a suitcase behind him and a duffle bag over his shoulder; he's refusing to let me carry anything, even though I've insisted repeatedly that I can carry a bag on my own.

Oh, I'm planning on much more than that, honey.

"Yes, I'll be fine."

Still looking uncertain, he goes into the kitchen to make himself a cup of coffee before we leave.

If he keeps this attitude up, I'm f*cked; if he has reservations about me swimming, how would he feel about me fucking?

He'll be completely against it. He'll probably even laugh at me.

With my head held straight, I walk into the kitchen behind him, pretending that nothing is wrong; I really don't want him questioning me right now.

Instead of focusing on my dismal thoughts, I look up at the refrigerator in front of me, and look at the small magnets decorating it, look at the pictures of him... and a few of his sister.

"How do you do it?" I ask quickly, before he can say anything to me.

"Do what?"

"Look at her every day, but know that you'll never be able to see her again?"

I ask him this, because I know that it can't be pain free for him; I watched him cry over his sister the morning after we slept together for the first time. He did so openly in front of me.

He bites his lip and looks down, and for a second, I wonder if I've overstepped my mark.

"I mean—"

"Because I love her. Eventually, I've reached this point of acceptance, where it still hurts... but it isn't unbearable anymore. I can look, I can remember how happy I was with her, I can smile, I can laugh, I can even cry, and darkness won't consume me. That's what I want for you. So when you reach there, you can put their pictures right there, too," he finished, smiling at me, pointing at the fridge.

Well, I never intended to have such a deep conversation this early in the morning, and these thoughts are already beginning to bum me the fuck out.

"Thanks. Let's go," I say, with a neutral expression, and walk off, hoping that he realises that it's best not to say anything else.

We exit the house and as he locks up, I force myself to think about other things. I go back to thinking about sex, but instead of moping about David's reluctance, I decide to devise a plan.

How am I going to get David to fuck me?

Even after thinking about this for over an hour straight, looking out the window of the moving car, I'm still blank.

"What are you thinking about?" he asks; I turn to look at him, and he is stealing glances at me as he watches the road.

"Beaches," I answer smoothly, and it isn't a complete lie; I was thinking about convincing David that sex on a beach was a good idea... and how good it would feel when he'd finally agree.

"Really? So why are your pupils so dilated?"

"I was looking outside the window into the sun, then I turned to look at you in the shade of a car. Yes, my pupils are going to be dilated. I'm not a psychotic nympho, you know," I joke. I'm surprised that my answers are so on point.

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