by Jo Watson
Damien lunged toward Jess. “Jess, you’re such trouble maker.”
“I know. That’s why you love me!” And then she winked at us and jumped into the water with a loud splash. I avoided all eye contact with Damien now; I was worried that if I looked at him, he’d notice that I’d been reduced to a dithering puddle of hormones. So I jumped in and followed.
We found the arrow easily and then we all counted to three, took a deep breath and submerged. The tunnel was dead ahead and not as long as I’d imagined. I soon saw the sun rippling on the surface of the water and knew that the air pocket was close. We emerged into a small space that was just big enough for the six of us. Everyone started taking their next big breaths and disappeared. I was about to do the same when I felt Damien pull me back.
“Finally, I have you alone,” he said in a gravelly voice that did nothing to hide his feelings and thoughts. He pulled me closer. We were both treading water and as we got closer, our legs bumped into each other. Damien pulled me closer still and tried to kiss me, but we soon succumbed as the effort of trying to kiss and keep our heads above water with vigorous treading became too much to do. We sank under the water together, our knees knocking and feet tangling, and attempted another kiss. It was clumsy and pointless and our mouths filled with water. We both burst out laughing, which caused our faces to disappear behind a shroud of bubbles. This was the worst failed kiss in history, and we both emerged laughing and spluttering.
“Okay, so maybe that wasn’t the best idea I’ve ever had,” he said between fits of laughter. “I don’t want to be the guy who lands up drowning you in the throes of passion. Then there’ll be no story to tell the kids.”
Kids, dot, dot, dot. And even though I knew it was just a clever reincorporation of the joke that was being thrown around, my mind couldn’t help going there for a second.
Damien was still laughing, clearly oblivious to the fact that we now had three daughters, with blue eyes and black hair and their names all stared with a D.
“So how about we just forget that even happened and we’ll try again later?” he said, his laughter finally tapering off.
“Sure,” I said, and then I almost fainted when I heard the words come out of my mouth. “But, you have to promise to make our first real kiss the best one of our lives…”
Damien came closer to me and I felt his hand on my stomach. I flinched—but in a good way. His hand moved down and he hooked his finger into the top of my bikini bottoms and pulled me closer.
His pupils dilated and he gently parted his lips. “I promise.”
I believed him. If that kiss in the club was anything to go by.
When we finally resurfaced on the other side, we entered into a world that was amazing and bizarre and beautiful. We were in yet another small crystal lake, which was also enclosed with rocky cliff faces and had the same huge wraparound beaches. Beyond the beaches were giant palms filled with hammocks and strings of colored lights. Multicolored tents were erected all over the beach, which also had big, comfy-looking cushions and giant beach balls scattered on it. An enormous bar dominated the center of the beach and people were milling about; some were floating in the water on bright inflatable loungers others were sleeping in hammocks, some were playing volleyball, and a few were already dancing on the beach to music being played by a DJ.
I looked around, amazed.
“Welcome to Burning Moon, Lilly.” Damien turned to me. “I’m going to make this the best night of your life.”
I shivered at the infinite possibilities that sentence held.
Chapter Thirteen
Remember all those years ago when Tom Hanks won the Oscar for Forrest Gump and for the next while every Tom, Dick, Harry, and uncle’s tree squirrel’s monkey walked around saying, “Life is like a box of chocolates, you never know what you’re gonna get.”
Well, that’s ridiculous! Of course you know what you’re gonna get, just read the bloody box. Turn it over and look at the little pictures of the chocolates and their descriptions. I’m not sure where Forrest was buying his boxes, but really, it’s not that hard.
But, I finally got it. Because the chocolate I was currently unwrapping, and was about to take a bite out of, wasn’t on the box. It wasn’t on any box, anywhere. In fact, it’s a totally new flavor that hasn’t even been invented yet and will only exist in the future when we taste with our fingertips.
Because I would never—in a million years—have guessed that my life was “gonna get” this.
The party preparations were in full swing. More and more people were arriving and the music was getting louder and louder. The water thrashed with partygoers— swimming, floating, splashing and jumping. Dusk was creeping up and the sparkling lights in the trees had been turned on. They scattered rainbow beads of color across the white sands and cliff faces. The tiny dots of color bounced across the surface of the reflective water and it looked like everything had been coated in millions of brightly colored M&Ms.
But I still hadn’t had my alone time with Damien, because he seemed to know everyone here. We spent the whole afternoon moving from person to person. “Hello….how are you?…great…awesome…long time…glad to see you…this is Lilly…” etc. A couple of people recognized me thanks to my new-found internet fame, and they’d all thought it as just about the coolest thing they’d ever seen. Suddenly, I was the “cool chick,” the celebrity. Some guy even asked me to autograph his chest and a couple of people wanted to take photos with me. These people were so accepting; I thought about what Michael would say if he saw the picture. It would not be complimentary, and I’m sure he would have been mortified to be associated with me. Was my relationship really as good as I thought it was? In the light of all this acceptance, from Damien as well, my relationship started to look pretty conditional.
We went around like this for hours, and I was thrilled to see my strip-club buddies Mark and Bruno there. We got so wrapped up in girl talk that when I looked up again, Damien was gone. He was nowhere to be found. Nowhere. So I wondered around aimlessly, drank two tall, purple drinks and then went to the toilet. The bathroom was a rather jungle-like affair. It was a temporary structure comprised of reed walls built around a large palm tree. I wondered how all this stuff had arrived here. There were only two possibilities: either the guy who ran this was very rich and everything had been airlifted in, or this party was that mysterious and strange that everything had been beamed here through a trans-dimensional portal. Either way, it was pretty spectacular and I was in absolute awe of it all. One couldn’t help but get caught up in the energy and exhilaration of the night.
You really felt like you were a part of something. Something unique. A secret underworld that was completely separate from everything else. Here people were happy. They were free. They made their own rules and marched to the beat of their own drums. (Literally—a drumming circle had been formed out on the beach. What is it with hippies and drums?) I looked around at the people and was struck by how diverse they were: from your arty, poetry-reading, shell-earring-wearing types to your hipster Kens and Barbies, chuck in a few Rastafarians, some really cute Asian schoolgirls with pink hair, add a few emos for good measure, and then the most bizarre of all, a few people who looked like moms and dads.
I caught sight of myself in the bathroom mirror and stared back at someone who looked nothing like the Lilly I knew. I didn’t have a scrap of makeup on, for starters, which was very unusual. The sun had sprayed freckles across my nose and cheeks and my hair was messy and wavy from the humidity. The latter was the most unusual, because I’m the girl with the immaculate, pin-straight hair, never (until recently, that is) a strand out of place or a misbehaving tuft. I rand my hands through it, trying to tame the beast, but I was interrupted.
“Leave it. It looks nice like that.”
It was Damien. He was casually leaning against a palm tree waiting for me. Somewhere along the way he’d managed to change, and it was the first time I’d seen him in anything other than his
uniform black. His knee-length shorts were still black, but he was wearing a ludicrous Hawaiian-style shirt with a pink hibiscus and tropical parrot print. He looked ridiculous, yet outrageously sexy and simultaneously adorable.
“Do you like my shirt?” he asked, doing a little turn.
“I love it.”
“I borrowed it from this real surfer dude, right after he showed me the scar on his leg where a shark bit him.”
“Oohhh. Hardcore.” I said, stepping closer.
“I figured that if we were going to make out, I should at least be wearing a clean shirt.”
“Make out?” I burst out laughing, “I haven’t heard anyone say that since I was twelve.” I’d never laughed with anyone as much as I did with Damien.
“So…how did you know where to find me?” I asked.
Damien winked at me. “I’ve been watching you from a distance, Lilly.”
A chill ran up my spine. “Really?”
“No, not really. But it’s easy to find a celebrity.” He laughed again, and I was pretty sure I wasn’t ever going to live down that now-infamous photo.
The laughter subsided and, once again, we found ourselves in yet another awkward moment. (God this was getting old.)
Silent.
Staring.
Looks loaded with expectancy.
We both knew what was coming next. It was just a question of time. Now it was about who was going to make the first move, and when.
You know how that moment before you kiss someone for the first time can be so terribly awkward that you actually feel sick to the stomach? Well, that’s how I felt. In the silent, expectant looks I mentally screamed at him to kiss me, willing him so I wouldn’t have to make the first move. Even though I knew he wanted to kiss me, it’s human nature to be filled with just the tiniest bit of doubt that tells you if you lean in to kiss him, he’s going to pull away. (And consequently, you will die of embarrassment.)
Then Damien walked toward me and took my hand. “Come, I want to show you something.”
“What?”
“I want to show you why it’s called Burning Moon.”
Damien pulled me across the beach, through the crowds who were dancing to the hypnotic music. I hadn’t noticed it before, but there were some steps curved up the side of one of the smaller cliffs. Damien still had me by the hand and was carefully leading me up them. We reached the top and I gasped. Out loud. I felt like we were standing on the top of the world.
The sea stretched out around us in every direction as far as the eye could see. The sun had just taken its final bow and the fat, silver moon was creeping over the horizon. I stood there in silent wonder and watched as the plump moon came into full view, but as I stared at it, I noted a subtle change in its color. The silver flushed with a subtle, warm pink.
“What’s happening?” I turned and looked at Damien. He had the same look on his face the night he’d told me about the galaxies.
“You’re about to see a lunar eclipse,” he said, still staring at the moon. “And if we’re lucky, we’ll have a blood moon tonight.” Damien turned and looked at me. “But this isn’t the best place to watch it from.” He took my hand again.
Minutes later we were standing in a small alcove carved into the rock. It was perched on top of the cliff, and only about a short distance from the sheer drop into the waters below. Damien had spread a blanket out across the floor and scattered a few cushions around. He’d lit some lanterns, which drenched the walls in a warm glow.
“Welcome to the party,” he said, ushering me into the alcove and pulling out a cushion for me to sit on.
“So is this where you disappeared to?”
“It’s always the first thing I do when I get to these parties.”
“What is?” I suddenly had images of him making love nests for women.
He smiled at me; he seemed to have this uncanny ability to know what I was thinking.
“I’ve never actually attended one of these parties. What I mean is that I always come to these parties, but the only reason I do so is to watch the eclipse.”
I was surprised by this revelation, especially after everything we’d been through to get here. “So every year you come to a party just to sit alone and watch the moon disappear?”
He smiled that crooked smile at me again. “Basically. I told you, Lilly, I’m a bit of a nerd.”
“You know, I think you’re the weirdest person I’ve ever met.”
“Really? I was thinking the same thing about you.”
“What?” I shrieked in genuine shock. “I’m about the most normal person you’ll ever meet.”
Damien shook his head smiling, “Not a chance Lilly, you are by far, by far, the strangest girl I’ve ever met!”
“Oh please. How?”
“Okay, first, I’ve never seen anyone dress like you did on that plane—”
I cut him off quickly. “But I had a perfectly good reason for it.”
He continued. “Not only that, but then you somehow managed to become an internet sensation, wearing arguably the worst pajamas ever created.”
“Hey, that was those Chinese tourists’ fault!”
“And then to top it off, you are the clumsiest person I’ve ever met. You set yourself on fire for heaven’s sake. Who does that?”
I laughed. I couldn’t argue with that one.
“You’re a little bundle of contradictions, because you’re also the strongest woman I know.”
“How’s that?”
“Who else goes on their honeymoon alone?”
I’d never thought of it that way. That I’d been strong, that this had been brave. And I liked it.
“And I’m very glad you did, come on your honeymoon alone…” Damien crept closer to me and I could feel the excitement churning in my stomach. He leaned in a little closer and my breathing quickened. He smiled at me. It was the sexiest, scariest, naughtiest smile I’d ever seen, and it made me shiver in the warmth of the evening air. The soft-pink light around us was changing with the moon and being whipped into a deep red. The color in the air only intensified Damien’s features and the sharp red shadows that trickled across his face made him look dangerous. Powerful.
And then he leaned in and kissed me. The kiss was gentle at first. It was slow and soft and tender and warm. His hot breath licked my lips and made my body tremble. He wrapped his arm around me and pulled me even closer, intertwining his fingers in my hair. The tip of his tongue touched my lips and gently parted them, and my heart started beating in my ears at a giddy rate. He tasted sweet and salty, and I let out a moan as I felt one of his hands tighten around my waist.
And then everything changed. As if that little breathy sound had ignited something.
The kiss became frenzied.
We grabbed at each other.
Tore.
It was chaos.
It was hungry, angry and frantic.
Our lips and tongues engaged in a kind of desperate, erotic dance that went faster and faster and faster. Speeding toward something.
It was so animalistic and insatiable that I no longer felt in control.
It was the dizziest, most erotic moment of my life.
I arched my body toward him. My nipples were hard and the feeling of them pressing into his chest made my skin feel like it was hot and cold, burning and stinging all at the same time.
The pace of the kiss escalated until I felt Damien bite my lip, and then everything stopped.
He pulled away panting. I was gasping for air and my body was heaving from the exertion. I finally managed to open my eyes, and when I did, everything was red. Our bodies were painted crimson and the world looked like it was on fire. The rocks were embers. The sea was churning blood; the sky looked like it had been ripped open, exposing what lay beneath its skin. And the moon…the big, red moon hung low and ripe in the sky. He smiled at me. It wasn’t a scary, sexy smile anymore. It was something else.
Something quieter.
Something t
hat enveloped us in our own little world.
And then he kissed me again. It was slow, soft and deep. There was nothing frantic or angry or rushed about this kiss, instead it felt like we had all the time in the world. That time was standing still just for us. He ran his hands through my hair and touched the side of my face, as the kiss became even slower…
But the slower it became, the more exquisitely intense it became.
The intensity overwhelmed me.
I reached up and put my hands on the sides of his face, it was the first time I’d touched his face and his hair felt rough against my hands. The kiss ended, and just the tips of our noses where touching. We looked at each other, our hands cupping each other’s faces.
He looked through me.
In that silence, not a single word was uttered, but everything was said and I’d never felt closer to another human being before.
The light around us had become even redder. I looked at Damien. His shirt was off, and he was bathed in the glow of the moon. He looked otherworldly, ethereal almost. The light accentuated the strong black lines of his tattoos and I reached up and touched one. I ran my fingertips up his arm, following the lines and shapes all the way up to his wrist. When my fingers reached his wrist, he opened his hand and I ran my fingers over his palm.
He looked at me with eyes that seemed to ask a silent question. And I understood. I looked back at him with my answer.
I wanted him.
The faintest smile made the corners of his mouth twitch, and his hands went to work on my sarong. He was quick and it soon fell to the ground. He moved closer to me still, wrapping his arm around my back and tracing his fingers down the length of my spine before stopping at my bikini strap.
I felt it loosen.