Champagne Kisses: A Timeless Love Story

by Krista Lakes

  "Hey, Hot Stuff," Dean said, giving me a wicked grin as he took off his helmet. "Hop on."

  I hesitated for a moment. I didn't want this.

  Dean raised his eyebrows waiting for me to answer. I could feel everyone's eyes on me, ready for me to join them. It's just a motorcycle. They aren't going to do anything too dangerous. He isn't James, I told myself. Besides, I trusted Dean.

  The two other bikes took off down the drive, and Dean kept his hand outstretched. "Come on, it'll be fun!" he said.

  "Promise me you'll stop if I ask you to," I said.

  He looked at me like I was being a worry wart, then brought his hand up to his opposite shoulder. "Tap my shoulder three times and I'll stop immediately," he said, tapping his shoulder three times.

  I bit my lip and nodded. I accepted the helmet from his hand and got on the back of the motorcycle. The bike shook like an angry volcano beneath me, and I clung to Dean for dear life. He was my rock, his abs hard and tight under my arms as I pressed into him. I tucked my feet up and held my cheek into his back, squeezing my eyes shut as he cranked the engine.

  With a terrifying surge, the bike jumped forward, the engine roaring in my ears. My entire body was vibrating, and I wished my fear would turn into excitement. I wanted to like this. I wanted to impress Dean with my willingness to do exciting things. I wanted to be like Jenny; I could hear her laughing and begging Matt to go faster. I opened one eye to see the two of them nearly parallel to the ground in a deep turn as they were about to turn onto the road. The image made my stomach flip, and I quickly buried my face into Dean's back. Please, please don't do that to me, Dean, I begged in my head.

  Dean turned, his body weight shifting to guide the bike. I clutched desperately at his shoulders, praying that I wouldn't hit the ground. I clung to his back like I was drowning in fear. James had spun out on a turn. This was not fun. With every turn, the ground seemed to rise up to meet me, promising a painful fall. All I could see was my cousin's body in the hospital bed with the white bandages and tubes going into his arms. The scars up and down his body from where the road slowed him down.

  "I want off, please," I whispered. I was surprised I made any noise at all. Every fiber of my being wanted off that bike. Dean must not have heard me, the whistling wind stealing my words before they reached his ears. Instead of slowing down and letting me off, the bike increased in speed. I opened one eye in time to see Matt and Jenny rush past. I wanted to scream. The three boys were horsing around, weaving in and out between one another on the empty street like it was a game. I felt the breeze as Tony and Kimberly whizzed by, their engine screaming in my ears. I never wanted something to end so badly.

  "Let me off!" I finally screamed, beating at Dean's back. I knew it wasn't quite the code that he had given me, but he took the hint quickly enough. He pulled the bike to the side of the road, stopping as quickly as he could while still being gentle. He turned around, his cocky grin fading as he saw the terror on my face. I scrambled off like the bike was molten hot. The helmet was suffocating me, so I ripped it off and let it drop from my fingers, backing onto the crab grass of the front lawn, my palms sweaty. I wiped them on the thin blue fabric of my swimsuit coverup. I couldn't decide if I was burning hot or terribly cold. My knees wobbled, and I only stayed standing by sheer will power.

  "You okay?" Dean's brows knitted together, confusion and concern etched on his face.

  "I don't like motorcycles," I said. I concentrated on breathing in and out. In and out.

  He hesitated for a moment. "Okay, then we'll go do something on our own," Dean said. He looked back where we had come from. "I have to drop the bike back off at our house. If you get back on, I'll go really slow."

  "No." The idea of getting back on made me want to throw up. James's voice echoed through my head, the moans of pain any time he moved calling out from my memory.

  He sighed, then held his hand out. "I'll take the helmet, then. Wait here and I'll be right back." I leaned forward and picked up the helmet. Dean took it from me and winked before putting it back on. "Don't get on the bike with those other guys. They're crazy."

  That finally made me smile. Dean's engine growled to life and he took off. I watched him go, my hands still shaking a little bit. Still, I was happy that he listened to me. Within a few minutes, Dean was jogging back up the road to where I was at.

  "I'm sorry," I said immediately. "I know you wanted to ride your motorcycle."

  He just shrugged. "I did that already today." He took my hand in his, pulling me gently to start walking with him. We traveled quietly for a moment, away from the house and the motorcycle.

  "I'm sorry I freaked out on you like that," I said quietly. Dean just nodded as the tension between us broke. He didn't say anything. "My cousin and I were really close. He was in a really bad motorcycle accident last year."

  Dean gave a quiet "mmm-hmm" and squeezed my hand.

  "He was in the hospital for three weeks. The doctors said he was lucky to be alive, but he was never quite the same after that. I've never liked motorcycles since."

  "I'm sorry I pushed you, then," he said softly. "You doing better now?"

  I nodded and rested my head against his shoulder. He felt good against me. I bent my arm behind me, pulling his hand so that it wrapped around my waist. My world felt right again.

  Chapter 11

  June 7th, 1990

  The boardwalk creaked under our feet as we made our way along the sandy planks. Small local shops had their doors open to let in the warm ocean air and passing customers. The smell of hotdogs and popcorn drifted by, and music played softly from the inside the shops.

  "I'm starving. You want something to eat? My treat." Dean let go of my hand, eyeing the food stand.

  "Sure. I'll take a hotdog. Thanks!" I flashed him a big grin as he hurried over to the line. I was about to follow him, but something caught my eye.

  On the edge of the boardwalk, facing out toward the ocean, a street vendor was selling his paintings. They were amazing. The seascapes caught my attention, particularly one of a storm about to roll in. A woman stood silhouetted in the foreground, tiny against the powerful thunderclouds and swelling waves. I could feel the surge of the water, the light fading quickly into the clouds as the storm threatened to overcome her. Despite the storm, she stood strong and ready to survive. I stood mesmerized by the play of colors and the use of light, exploring the nuances of the art.

  "There you are," Dean said, coming up behind me. "I turned around and you were gone. What are you looking at?"

  He handed me a hotdog, ketchup and mustard in clean lines down the middle. I pointed to the painting that had captured my attention.

  "This painting is spectacular." I stepped closer, almost forgetting about the food in my hand. The painting was small, about the size of a hardcover book. I could see it siting on a bookcase or a mantle. I could also see the price tag and that it was more than my meager budget could afford.

  Dean peered at it, tipping his head to the side as though a different view point would help. He shrugged and looked back at me. "What's so special about it? It looks like just another beach scene to me. There are hundreds of stupid beach vendors hawking this same picture all over."

  I rolled my eyes. "No, there are no vendors with this painting. I've never seen one like this before, and I've been looking. I have a degree in art; I know this stuff. This is really good."

  Dean gave me a skeptical look, biting into his hotdog. I turned back to the painting and began to point out the features.

  "See the light here? How it contrasts with the dark of the sky and the water and silhouettes the woman? It's called chiaroscuro. Rembrandt is the artist who made it famous. But see how the sun shining on only this area creates a sense of forbidding? You can feel the storm coming, but she stands defiantly against it." I glanced over at Dean, and he had his brows furrowed, his concentration completely on the painting and me.

  "I see it," he said, his voice quiet as he stepped toward
the painting.

  "See how the light and the dark interact? Without the light shining here, the dark wouldn't look so deep. The sun shining on her, making her a silhouette, in addition to her stance, is what makes her feel so strong. She is in the light despite the oncoming darkness. It is the way the two interact that make it powerful, the way the painter used the light to detail the shadows."

  Dean looked over at me, his eyes filling with understanding. "I've never had anyone explain a painting to me like that before. I always just thought art was just kind of a bunch of glorified nonsense."

  I gave him a smile. "Art is supposed to make you feel something. To help you experience the world. A good piece of art will change the way you look at things, maybe even change the way you look at yourself."

  "Do you always see the world this way?" He gestured to the painting. "A world of light and dark and all the shadows in between?"

  "Mostly. It takes a little training to get good at it, but I've always looked for the beauty in the world. That's why I went to art school. I love seeing the beauty in things that most people just take as everyday or ordinary."

  Dean stared at the picture for another moment. I took a bite of my hotdog, enjoying watching him suddenly realize the beauty in the painting. I remembered the first time I really "got" a painting, and watching him was a wonderful mirror of that memory. The same slack-jaw stare, eyes wide, shoulders relaxed except for the one arm reaching out to touch the picture, but stopping before contact.

  "You're right. It is beautiful," said Dean, turning to face me with a sheepish grin. "Thank you for showing me that. You like your hotdog?"

  I hadn't realized how hungry I was, I had snarfed the entire thing down already. I pulled my finger out of my mouth, sucking off the last little bit of ketchup. I looked at him sheepishly, then we both laughed. "They're probably all waiting for us back at the house," I said.

  We headed back down the boardwalk in contemplative silence. It was comfortable to just walk with Dean, knowing both our minds were still back with the painting. I could still see the whorls of color in the water and the light reflecting off the waves. Glancing over at Dean, I knew he could see it too.

  Chapter 12

  June 8th, 1990

  When I woke up in bed again with Dean, it was the first time that I didn't feel like things were perfect. This was the last day that I would spend with Dean, and I knew that none of us girls were ready to say goodbye. If there was ever a time when I felt home, it was here in Florida, with my two best friends and the three guys that made us happier than we had ever been.

  Still, when he rolled over at me and smiled, I couldn't help but grin back. "Hey," I said.

  "Hey, Beautiful," he said. He looked completely at peace.

  I turned on my side to face him. The sheet was down around my waist, and my breasts were exposed in front of him, but it seemed like it had been forever ago that I had any modesty around him. "What do you have planned for today?"

  He shrugged. "I was hoping I could hang out with my girl," he said with a grin.

  I beamed. My girl. The words sounded perfect coming out of his mouth.

  "Well, yeah, but what are you going to do with your girl?" I asked, putting the emphasis on "your."

  He shrugged again. "There's a volleyball net outside that we haven't even used. What do you say we go buy a volleyball and try it out?"

  I smiled. Just the thought of Dean out there, shirtless, and using his strength in a masculine sport turned me on. I immediately thought of the movie Top Gun.

  "You and me? One on one? I'm tall, but I don't think I'd stand a chance against you," I said.

  "Well, bring your friends. Maybe we'll do guys versus girls; maybe we'll do couple against couple. We'll have to see how they feel about it," Dean said.

  I smiled. "I'll head over to the condo to get the two lovebirds while you go find a ball and let Matt and Jenny know."

  "Oh, so you're going to make me brave the crazy sex room. Thanks." Dean made a face at me and we both laughed. Despite the heavy walls, we could hear the two of them going at it like sex-crazed monkeys. I shuddered to think of what he might find in their room.

  We both got out of bed and dressed in the same room. I liked how comfortable we were together, even naked. It made me feel like it might last.

  I tried to banish that thought from my head as I walked in the sunshine to the tiny rental. This is just a summer romance, I thought. I sighed. I wanted it to be so much more.

  When I walked into the condo, I began to laugh. There were Kim and Tony, in their pajamas, a steaming mug of coffee next to each of them as they played checkers on the kitchen table. "Here we are, on a tropical vacation, and you two are indoors playing a board game. You look like an old married couple," I said.

  Kim blushed, and Tony grinned unabashedly at me. I could practically read their thoughts. We wish we were a married couple. I wondered if he had proposed to her already. I heard guys often did that before a deployment. I'd have to get the info from Kim later.

  "So, what's up?" Tony asked.

  "We're about to start a game of sand volleyball at your place. Are you in?"

  I could practically see the competitive side of him as he smiled. He looked over at Kim. "Can we pause this game?"

  She smiled. "I'd love to." Her eyes sparkled. I didn't think that I had seen that smile leave her face since this vacation started.

  "Okay! I'm going to go ahead and grab my stuff so that it's all over at my place," Tony said.

  Kim was silent. Finally, something that made the smile fade from her face. She, too, realized that the vacation was coming to an end, and that it was time to disentangle themselves and their things. Soon, there would be no casual mornings full of checkers and coffee.

  My heart hurt for her for a moment. All three of us girls would soon be wishing this summer never ended.

  ***

  "All right, we're playing Shirts and Skins, right? Guy team will be shirts," Matt said, smiling at each of us.

  "Matt!" Jenny cried out.

  "Okay, okay... I guess we'll be Skins, then," he said. He smiled at the other guys as he pulled the t-shirt off his head. The other two quickly followed suit, throwing their shirts to the side of the sand volleyball court.

  My jaw dropped. I thought I saw Jenny swoon a little bit. I hadn't seen them all together in nothing but their bathing suits since that first day on the beach. Their bodies were all tight and muscular and their matching tattoos gleamed in the sun. I had to check my mouth to make sure I wasn't drooling. The men began to preen and flex for us a little bit. Matt even kissed his huge bicep and pointed at Jenny, winking. She rolled her eyes, but I knew that she was thinking what I was thinking. We couldn't pay for a better show than this.

  The girls and I were looking good too. Jenny had opted for just her bathing suit. Kim and I had come in jean shorts and tank-tops, but I had taken my mine off and thrown it to the side, revealing my bikini top.

  "I don't know, guys," Dean said. "Should we go easy on them?"

  "I haven't gone easy on Jenny since we got here," Matt said.

  A chorus of oohs sounded around the court while Jenny blushed, but she quickly regained her composure. "I guess if that's the best you've got, I should have no problem beating you at volleyball."

  Both guys cracked up, and it was Matt's turn to look flabbergasted. "I'm going to make you eat those words, both on this volleyball court and later tonight."

  "Bring it, big boy. First to fifteen points wins," Jenny said.

  We hit the ball back and forth for a while to warm up; then the boys graciously let us start. Unfortunately, Jenny smacked the ball directly into the net on her first serve. "That was a practice! The game hasn't started," she said. She recovered the ball and sent it flying through the air. It came down fast- and all three guys watched as it landed right in the middle of them.

  "I thought you had it!" Dean said, slapping Tony in the chest.

  "Don't look at me! You should have b
acked up and got it!" he yelled.

  Meanwhile, on our side of the court, we were cheering like we just won the state championship. When Jenny had the ball back, she yelled, "All right, boys, it's one to nothing." She did the same high-in-the-air shot. This time, Dean dove underneath it, just in time to bump it high enough for Matt to spike it over the net. None of us girls had a chance to react. We regretfully rolled the ball under the net back to the boys.

  "Zero serving one," Matt said. He did an overhand serve, just inching over the net, but allowing the ball to drop right down into the sand before any of us even realized it was going to make it. We were no longer cheering.

  That was basically how the next eleven points went. Sometimes we got it back over the net, but they managed to react quickly. There was a lot of high-fiving on the other side of the net, though, and that made me smile.

  "Twelve serving one," Matt said. He sent the ball gracefully over the net, and Jenny bumped it up. I hit it, and sent it sailing over the net. Matt, then Tony, then Dean did a perfect bump-set-spike, but I was ready. I jumped at just the right time and slammed my fist against the ball as hard as I could. Dean and I both fell backward onto our asses, and I couldn't see anything but the sky above. From the sounds of the high-pitched cheering behind me, though, I knew what side of the net the ball had landed on.

  Dean was over me in a moment, his big hand reaching down to help me up. I smiled as I grabbed it and he lifted me effortlessly to my feet. I looked into his eyes as we smiled at each other. Then, he swatted at my ass. "Good game, buddy," he said, and everyone laughed. I laughed too, then grabbed the ball and got in position for my own serve.

  "One serving twelve," I said. I used to love volleyball in high school, and I'm sure I surprised them a little when I did an overhand serve myself, aimed squarely at Matt. With no time to react, he hit the ball up in the air and way out of bounds. The game was back on!

  "Two serving twelve," I said when I had the ball back. I did the same serve, but this time Matt was ready. He bumped it, and Tony spiked it. Dean followed up with three serves that we weren't able to return, and the game was over.