by Sandy Barker
‘Yes, really. Except for the suit part. I’m in tech, so unless I have a client meeting, it’s pretty much business casual most days.’
‘Translate for the schoolteacher.’
‘Button-up shirt, untucked, nice jeans or khakis.’
‘Got it.’
We had finished our drinks and Josh signalled to the waitress to bring us another round. I’d also already had two pieces of Loukoumia. I needed to pace myself, or I’d end up sleepless on a sugar high.
Halfway through my second sidecar, I was more than a little tipsy. I was glad I’d said no to the crappy wine at the restaurant or ‘tipsy’ would have been ‘thoroughly drunk’.
‘Hey, have you seen the movie Before Sunrise?’ asked Josh. It was a total non sequitur, which threw me a little, so I didn’t respond. Josh must have taken my silence for not knowing it, or not being able to place it, because he continued. ‘You know, a boy and girl meet in Vienna, and they end up talking all night …’
I recovered from my mild bafflement. ‘I know it – they walk around all night talking and then they fall in love. I love that movie. I’ve seen it about a hundred times. And the sequels.’
‘Really? A hundred? Each, or all together?’ Why was he teasing me when he was the one who’d brought up the movie – the movie about the two people who fall in love while travelling?
I deflected Josh’s teasing by turning the conversation back to him. ‘Why are you asking if I know Before Sunrise? Do you think we’re like Jesse and Celine?’
‘Well, there are similarities don’t you think?’
Where was he going with this? ‘I suppose. I mean we were strangers and now we’re not. We’re in a foreign place. We do a lot of walking and we do talk all the time …’ I left the part about us falling in love unsaid. Because we weren’t. Not really.
‘Well, I’m glad you like it. It’s in my top ten movies of all time.’ Oh, so that’s where he was going with it. I was looking forward to seeing where else the conversation would go.
‘Top ten? You must really like it.’
‘You’re the one who says you’ve seen it a hundred times.’
‘Yeah, but I don’t know many people – or maybe any people – who love that movie as much as I do.’
‘I guess we can add it to the list of things we have in common.’
‘So, that’s why you brought it up? For the list?’
‘Well, I was also thinking about how in the second one they see each other again ten years later. Maybe we’ll meet up again in ten years and have a romantic interlude in Paris.’ Oops, spoilers – sorry.
Did Josh really want to meet up again after this trip? And if he did – ten years? Really? A decade was a long time. I thought back to where I had been ten years prior and cringed. Late-twenties Sarah was a bit of a mess. Even more so than late-thirties Sarah. And who knew? Maybe in ten years I would be married. Perhaps even married to James. And I would have forgotten all about the boy from Chicago. I decided it was best not to voice all of that.
Instead I said, ‘Did you see the last one?’
‘I did, yeah. It was a little, uh, realistic for me.’
‘How so?’
‘Well, they’re married. They have kids. They fight a lot.’
‘Oh. Well, that fits in with your picture of marriage perfectly then.’ I took a sip of my drink, punctuating my annoyance. How could one person be an idealistic romantic one moment and such a cynic the next?
‘I still liked it. I wanted to know what those characters had been up to. They’re almost like old friends to me, or something. I mean I saw the first one when I was around sixteen – right before the second one came out.’ God, he was young compared to me. ‘So, I saw those pretty much back to back, and then I watched them a few more times over the years.’
‘Oh really? So, I’m not the only one who’s seen them over and over again?’
‘Busted.’ He laughed at himself. ‘Anyway, when the third one came out, I sent out invites to watch the trilogy with my friends.’
‘Oh, cool.’
‘No, not cool, because literally no one showed up.’
‘What? That’s horrible. My bestie, Lindsey, and I went to the cinema to watch the trilogy – those movies are practically a rite of passage for – for us.’ I nearly said, ‘for my generation,’ but caught myself in time.
‘It’s fine. I enjoyed it for the most part – it’s just that, like I said, the third one got a little depressing in the middle. That whole “familiarity breeds contempt” thing. It was kind of intense.’
I sat quietly and sipped my drink because I couldn’t think of anything to say. If Josh was right and we were like Jessie and Celine, we’d gone from romantic figures to a couple on the brink of divorce in a matter of minutes. What sort of trajectory was that for a first date?
I was going to need a third sidecar.
I am pretty sure Josh picked up on my uneasiness, because he started to back-pedal. ‘I mean, they do seem to really love each other – despite all the fighting – and it’s a fictitious marriage anyway,’ he said. It was an anaemic point, but it seemed that there were no hidden messages in Josh’s words. He probably just enjoyed the movies, and he liked that we’d met by accident too. But like a total girl, I looked for hidden meaning that wasn’t there. Idiot.
I did love those movies, though, the first one most of all. I set my empty glass on the table in front of us.
‘You know what I love about their story?’ I asked. He shook his head. ‘I loved the whimsy of how they met. How free the characters were to act on their impulses. And they had such freedom to be themselves. I think that’s why the connection was so intense between them. There was no pretence. They would probably never see each other again, so why not be authentic about who they really were? I live that freedom vicariously every time I watch it.’
‘But don’t you have similar feelings about this trip?’ he asked. I stopped rerunning scenes from Before Sunrise in my mind and looked at him, waiting for him to continue. ‘We’ve both mentioned it before – it’s been so freeing. There are no expectations about who we are to each other, no prescribed roles to play, so we can be ourselves.’ He was right.
‘Like how you obviously soured when I mentioned that Celine and Jessie don’t really have a good marriage.’ I started to explain myself, but he silenced me with a gentle fingertip to my lips. ‘You were being authentic – and I love that about you.’
You what? Relax, Sarah. He said that he loved something about you, not that he loved you. Still, it was nice to hear.
‘I think you’d better kiss me now,’ I whispered. He kissed me with such tenderness, a wave of joy washed over me.
Yes, this man infuriated me with his skewed way of looking at love and relationships, but was it any more skewed than mine? For some time, I had presented this cactus-like façade to any man who approached me, but the irony was, I wanted to fall in love. With someone who saw me. With someone I could be my most authentic self with.
God, the kiss was good. I didn’t want to know how he’d learned how to do that. And I really didn’t want to say goodbye in a couple of days. I broke out of the kiss, before it could consume me and I ended up an emotional mess.
‘People are going to tell us to get a room,’ I joked, blinking away the tears and hoping he hadn’t seen them.
‘Maybe we should.’ He raised his eyebrows at me.
‘On the first date?’ I was only half-joking. I’d had sex on a few first dates before. Of course, not one of those times had led to a second date. That said, we were not having sex that night – not on the boat.
‘Well, it may officially be our first date, but we have pretty much been living together for the past week.’
‘Along with five other people.’
‘So? I’ve seen you in two different bikinis, in your pyjamas, all dressed up like tonight. I’ve even seen you without makeup on – still beautiful, by the way. I don’t think it would be scandalous for us to a
ctually spend the night together, for real.’
‘Are you thinking we’ll have sex on the boat?’
‘Well, I do have a cabin to myself.’
‘Josh, we’re not having sex on the boat.’
‘Should I be insulted by that?’
‘No, I don’t mean it like that – I fancy the hell out of you. But there’s no privacy on the boat. I can hear Marie and Gary roll over in their sleep from my cabin – at the other end of the boat. We can’t have sex – especially with Hannah next door. People will hear us. And they’ll know.’
‘Sarah, I think people know that we’re into each other.’
‘Yes, but sex is different. I don’t care if they know we had sex, but there’s no way I want them knowing that we’re having sex, because they can hear us having it.’
‘We’ll be quiet.’
I rolled my eyes.
‘Sarah, seriously? I really want to be with you.’
‘Me too. But not on the boat.’
We weren’t arguing, not really, but it was more than friendly banter. Yes, I really wanted to have sex with Josh. He was super sexy and if the kissing was any indication, then the sex was probably going to be incredible. But I meant what I said about having sex on that boat. It wasn’t going to happen.
‘Look,’ I said, wanting to come up with a feasible solution. ‘How about tomorrow when we get to Mykonos, you stay with me?’ He looked like he was seriously considering the offer. Would he decline? ‘You need to find a place anyway, and this way we will get to spend the night together – without worrying about the others.’
‘So, there’s definitely no way?’
‘No, Josh.’
‘In that case I would love to stay with you on Mykonos, Sarah. And, if you think we’re going to wait until after dinner tomorrow night – well, we’re not. What time can we check in?’
I laughed. ‘Any time after noon.’
‘Well, good. We’ll have a little afternoon delight.’ He raised those eyebrows again and I slapped his shoulder.
‘Ewww. That reminds me of seedy old men from the 70s.’
‘What? Why?’
‘I don’t know – that song I guess.’ I shook my head, wanting to dislodge the thought of hairy-chested men wearing bell-bottoms.
Josh finished his drink. ‘Shall we head back?’ I looked at him sideways. ‘I will behave myself, I promise.’ It was the promise of him not behaving himself when we got to Mykonos that was giving me tingles.
I finished the last sip of my drink and stood up. ‘Sure. Let’s head back. I’ll just get the bill.’
‘No, I’ll get this.’
‘You got dinner.’
‘Sarah, please. I asked you out. Let me get this.’ I acquiesced, and he settled the bill at the bar while I waited outside. Then, hand in hand, we walked in silence until we got to the pier.
I stopped, pulling Josh towards me so we faced each other. ‘Josh, thank you. It really was the best date I’ve had in, well, I don’t know how long.’
‘I am going to walk you all the way home, you know?’
I smiled. ‘I know, but I wanted to tell you that – in case the others are up when we get back, and I don’t get the chance.’
‘Well, in that case, I know how you feel about PDA and we wouldn’t want the rest of the gang to watch us kiss goodnight, so I better do it here.’
He placed one finger under my chin and tilted my head. His hand moved to my neck as he pulled me towards him and pressed his lips to mine. His mouth was firm, insistent, as though making his mark on me. My hands pressed into his chest, almost a physical resistance of how much I wanted him.
And I really did want him. But not on the boat.
We broke apart, both of us breathless.
‘Sarah, are you sure …’
I placed my forehead on his chest. Yes. No. I didn’t know. Maybe we could …
No. It would be better if the first time was not surrounded by our friends – our family. The anticipation may make the next twelve hours unbearable, but then again, maybe it would also make the sex all the sweeter.
I looked up at him. ‘I’m sure, Josh. We can wait.’
He groaned and then sighed. ‘Okay. But you’re killing me here.’ We started walking again.
‘Drama queen.’
When we got to the boat, Marie, Gary and Hannah were on deck. Duncan and Gerry had apparently done as they’d said and gone to bed early. We said our hellos, and then our goodnights, and I tried to ignore the odd expression on Hannah’s face.
Below deck, we stopped right outside of our two cabin doors.
‘Goodnight, Sarah.’
‘Goodnight, Josh.’
We didn’t touch, we didn’t kiss. Somehow without speaking it aloud, we both seemed to know that either would crush our resolve. We went into our respective cabins and closed the doors. I realised I had been holding my breath, and let it out in a long, slow and quiet sigh.
The next day was going to be incredible.
Chapter Fifteen
The next day was incredible. We set sail from Tinos early, and the weather was postcard beautiful. Clear, brilliant blue skies watched over us as we sailed towards Mykonos under full sail.
I had been to Mykonos a couple of times when I was touring. I knew it as a party island, the gay capital of Europe, populated by handsome, tanned men with hairless bodies and a penchant for girlie cocktails and dance music. It had some incredibly beautiful beaches, and the beach clubs were the stuff of legends – teeming with Adonis bodies and heady with the sound of electronic music. In the late noughties, it was touristy and exciting, and it was my first taste of the Greek Islands.
There was also a traditional side of the island I had loved when I’d been there last. It was the sort of place where you could sit at a waterfront café and watch fishermen haul their catches to the shore, or see an elderly couple transporting fresh produce home from the market on the back of their donkey. Yes, really.
Like Santorini, it was dappled with whitewashed buildings and those gorgeous windmills – fat white cylinders capped with thatched roofs and ragged cloth sails, which seemed more for show than for function. The main port town of Mykonos was crisscrossed with a labyrinth of walkways and paths – by design, I was once told by a local. Nearly two millennia ago, Mykonos was frequently targeted by pirates, so the town was built like a maze to confuse them. It gave the locals an advantage so they could attack the pirates from hiding places.
I wasn’t a pirate, but I had certainly found it easy to get lost in the town of Mykonos. It reminded me of Venice. If you found somewhere that you liked – a store, a café, a bar – you’d best make careful note of where it was, otherwise it was practically impossible to find again. There was a jewellery store there I’d found once – once, and never again. That was when I’d learned not to say, ‘I’ll buy it next time I’m here.’ I still wish I’d bought that silver bracelet.
The boat leered at a forty-five-degree angle and we all braced against something, anchored in so we remained upright. I was supposedly reading a novel on my Kindle. Even though it was the latest in a crime thriller series I’d been reading for years, it wasn’t really holding my attention. Josh’s forearms were, though.
He was wearing a pair of shorts and a light blue button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He had tanned over the course of the trip, and the whole effect of the tanned forearms and the shirt – and pretty much the rest of Josh – was drawing my attention far more than a well-reviewed thriller.
His eyes were hidden behind the lenses of his sunglasses, but I saw him turn in my direction a few times. He was also reading – or perhaps pretending to, like I was.
Many times, my mind roamed over the memories of the kisses from the night before. And many more times, I thought about the afternoon to come. Those thoughts, in particular, left me breathless.
Someone once told me about future memories, where you imagine something happening so intensely and with such
anticipation that you can ‘remember’ every detail. A lot of people do that and then they’re disappointed when reality doesn’t measure up to the future memory. I didn’t want to fall into that trap, but I was certainly savouring the build-up of anticipation.
I wanted Josh’s hands on me, his mouth on mine, the weight of his body on my body, all of it. I wanted him inside me, and to see the pleasure on his face as he entered me. I wanted to move in rhythm with him, a physical manifestation of our mental in-sync-ness. I wanted to hold him tightly to me, my legs wrapped around him. I wanted to feel him shudder against me, inside me, and to lose all conscious control and just be together. Oh my.
For some reason, I found it challenging to concentrate on my book.
‘Dolphins!’ My mind snapped back to the boat. No more future memories of romping with the sexy American. Dolphins were swimming alongside us, cresting the swells, and darting under and around the boat. There were about twelve in the pod, although it was tricky to count them as they were always on the move, playing with the boat and with each other.
Duncan remained at the helm, but the rest of us found vantage points around the deck of the boat, and pointed and exclaimed like children. It was a complete moment, my mind nowhere else. I tipped my head to the sun, savoured the salty spray against my skin and shared grins with my floating family. Josh had manoeuvred himself into a spot next to me.
‘Isn’t this incredible?’ he asked over the sound of the sea and the exclamations of the others.
‘Unbelievable.’ I laughed. ‘It’s like, “cue the dolphins,” and they magically appear.’
‘I know! This is the first time I’ve ever seen dolphins.’
‘That’s right, you’ve never been to the ocean before. Look!’ I pointed into the water. ‘There’s a mother and baby!’ The baby dolphin was fast, zipping either side of its mother.
‘It must be like some sort of slipstream under there. See, they look like they’re riding a current.’ Josh pointed at the watery wake they left as a trail.
‘Yeah, I think you’re right.’
‘Land ho!’ called out Duncan. Six pairs of eyes left the water and looked ahead. Mykonos loomed, and I suddenly felt an intense wave of sadness. Soon the sailing part would be over. As we counted down to when we’d all say goodbye, there were these little markers, milestones to pave the way.