“I have a white T-shirt, I’ve been wearing it to sleep in sometimes.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“That’s because pajamas are entirely unnecessary when it comes to you,” he said with a straight face, watching her blush.
“I know what you should wear,” Julia said, pointing across the street to a display window where a headless model wore white pants low on his hips. “No white shirt, just that.” She gave him an obvious once-over with her eyes.
“Well if I’m wearing that, you know what you’ll be in.”
“What?”
Blake jogged across the street, holding her hand and guiding her over to the display window.
“Oh very funny,” she scoffed, wrinkling her nose at the display. Next to her headless man in white pants was a female mannequin in a white shirt that could only be described as tiny.
“Come on, you’d look great,” Blake said, entirely serious about how well she could pull it off even though they were both joking. But Julia shook her head, horrified at the thought, and suddenly Blake felt like there was no reason for their impulsive adventure to be over just because they were back on land. “Yes, oh my God you should, you really should wear it.”
“You’re crazy,” she said, trying to pull him away from the window. But she was laughing, too, and Blake could see in the reflection of the window how they were both still flushed and giddy from the adrenaline rush of the jump.
“I’m serious! You have to get into the spirit of things.”
“I am in the spirit. The spirit of sane.”
“It’s not bungee jumping.”
“That’s no argument—that because it’s not an extreme sport it’s totally a good idea?”
“I don’t see a problem with that reasoning.”
“But I can’t.”
He folded his arms. “Why not?”
“Because!” she sputtered, then paused, clearly trying to think. “Because I can’t, that’s all. Because I don’t wear stuff like—” she gestured at the bare midriff of the mannequin, “that.”
“Mmm, why not?” he asked, this time genuinely curious. Why did she see herself that way, like there were things she “could” and “couldn’t” do? Like someone would come along and correct her if she stepped out of line?
Was she afraid?
“I just can’t,” she sighed, and Blake thought of what she’d told him about Liz and Mark, about what men did to women they thought they had a right to.
“You can with me,” he whispered, nuzzling her ear.
Her smile came back, even as she shook her head no.
The shopkeeper came out, a young, fashionable woman who must have seen them in front of the window.
“Can I help you?” she asked, looking at the display. “Are you looking for an outfit for tonight?”
“Why does everyone wear white?” Julia asked.
“It’s for peace and luck. Don’t forget to make an offering to Yemanjá, goddess of the sea.”
“See?” Blake said. “You don’t want to upset the goddess.”
Julia raised an eyebrow at Blake.
“Try something new?” It wasn’t so much about the outfit as about her fear. He wanted her to say yes to running, yes to jumping, yes to diving, yes to falling. He couldn’t bear the thought of her standing on the side.
“Only if you do it,” Julia said emphatically, but Blake didn’t have to think very hard about that. Experience was how he learned.
“Deal,” he said, and for the second time that day they shook hands while the shopkeeper laughed and went to get them their clothes for the night.
It was a costume, really, and hardly expensive since the stores wanted people to buy new clothes for the holiday. They walked away with a small bag containing the shirt and a white skirt for Julia and the long, silky pants for him.
“The goddess had better love us,” Julia commented.
“I’d say she already does,” Blake said with a wink.
New things. Blake had left Australia thinking that what he wanted was for things to go back to the way they’d been when Kelley was his girlfriend and Liam was his best friend and The Everlastings was just beginning and everything seemed possible and assured.
But maybe it had never really been like that, and he’d been so focused on what he wanted to see that he hadn’t paid attention to all the cracks in the surface he’d constructed. Kelley’s long silences; the clothes she started buying him after the show took off, saying “the creator” needed to look like one; the way Liam always seemed to be hanging around, so he could never just be with his friend or with his girlfriend because they were three, always three.
Until they were two, but it was the two under the camera lights, the two sneaking away to be alone. How had he missed so much that was right in front of his eyes?
Maybe things had never been as he’d imagined, and what he didn’t want was the old but something new, too, like Julia—the possibilities he’d never imagined, the dreams he’d stopped allowing himself to dream. In the warm sun and the rush of the jump still in his limbs, anything seemed possible. Anything at all.
What would he decide to do tomorrow, the start of the new year and the day that Julia left? He had no plans, no sense of which way the winds would turn. He could simply head to Buenos Aires and push his whole itinerary back a few days.
But the need to follow a schedule didn’t seem so important anymore. He would figure it out. For the moment, not knowing seemed okay. Because he had the rest of the day and the night and the following day with Julia. And if that was all he had before she took a plane back to Chicago and out of his life, then so be it.
“What’s your New Year’s resolution this year?” he asked as they headed back toward the hotel.
“Leave school no more than an hour after my students do,” Julia said immediately.
“I can tell you’ve been thinking about this.”
“It’s one Liz’s been trying to get me to do for years, but my heart wasn’t in it enough for the idea to stick.”
“And you think this year?”
“Consider it reflective of a larger change.” She grinned, her eyes alight and flecked with gold. “What about you?”
“Start my next project. Use the upcoming season of The Everlastings to transition the writing reigns to Anderson and then get a pilot up for this untitled thing I’ve been brewing.”
He hadn’t thought of it in such final terms, but now that he was saying it aloud he knew that was exactly what his plan was—and that he could do it. He didn’t need Kelley or Liam to make a show. People watched The Everlastings for the actors, sure, but everything started with the script, and it came to life through the producer. There was no reason he had to keep himself tethered to them when his whole imagination was wide open to new ideas.
“You’ll have to get a U.S. distributor, or however that stuff works, so that I can watch,” Julia said. “Are you on Netflix? Or Hulu?”
“I’ll send you links,” he promised. “I can usually get stuff before it airs.”
So that was it, then. He didn’t even need to ask what was next for them, because it was clear. Like Blake’s initial decision not to go to Rio, everything was decided without them saying a word. Their resolutions for the next year revolved around their jobs—meaning they’d be back to their regular lives, in Chicago and Sydney, moving forward and moving on, presumably trying to find someone who fit into the lives they’d already constructed in their respective homes. The real world was waiting, and while Blake had a few more months to be on the road, time was ticking down until Julia would be gone.
But he wasn’t going to dwell on it. Not now. They swung back to the hotel room to drop off the bag of clothes and changed into their bathing suits, a flashback to the first time they’d met and swum together. This time they would actually be swimming, since the beach was full of energetic crowds eager for the night’s celebrations to begin. They brought only a towel and enough money to buy coconuts an
d snacks on the beach from the vendors who came around with small portable grills, cooking skewers of meat and soft cheese. They talked with the vendors about the best places to go on the beach that night, but everyone said the same thing. They should just get out and cover the whole beach.
“Don’t forget to wear white,” one boy said as he pocketed Blake’s change.
“We will,” Julia said seriously, and then flashed Blake a grin. They were definitely getting into the spirit of things.
They spent the afternoon swimming and lounging on the beach. There was barely enough time to collapse in the hotel room for a nap with the windows open and an ocean breeze streaming through, and then they woke up and showered off the sunscreen and salt water and got ready for the night.
With a towel around his waist and water dripping off his hair, Blake pulled out their brand new, bright white clothes and tossed Julia her skirt and shirt.
“No peeking,” she admonished as she took the clothes and closed the bathroom door in his face.
Blake pulled on a pair of boxer-briefs and then the white pants, leaving a thin line of the band showing around the low waist where the pants hugged his hips. They were like dressy pajama pants, trim around his hips but with a loose, wide cut through the legs. He could easily get behind a New Year’s Eve party that involved being comfortable.
He debated whether he should wear his V-neck white shirt, but it wasn’t as new and bright as the pants. He decided to hang out shirtless and wait to see what Julia thought. What was taking her so long? It wasn’t like she had a lot of clothes to put on, what with how little fabric there was to that shirt…
He rapped gently on the door. “Everything going okay in there?”
“It’s a good thing it’s going to be dark when we’re outside,” she called back.
Finally she opened the door and Blake realized a major downside of his outfit: the fabric of his pants was so thin, there was no way to conceal the bulge that grew as she stood in the doorway.
She could see it and she pressed her lips together, trying—and failing—not to smile. “This will officially be the most naked I’ve ever been in public,” she said, running her fingers through her hair as Blake raked his eyes over her, trying—and also failing—to keep his hands and cock at bay.
“Hopefully it will also be your first officially fun all-nighter,” he said as he came toward her, brushing his hand down her side.
“To add to all the other new firsts.”
“Such as?” he asked, wanting to hear the list.
“Sex in a pool.”
“How about under a waterfall?”
“And don’t forget about hang gliding.”
“Maybe we’ll get lucky and there’ll be sex on the beach, too,” he murmured, gathering her hands in his and pressing his body to her.
“With two million people around?” she giggled, rubbing a hand over the head of his cock where it strained up against his fly.
“We’ll have to find a quiet spot.” He was breathing harder now, his lips brushing hers, bringing his hands to her breasts to run his fingers across the thin white fabric doing nothing to keep her nipples at bay.
The fabric was cut low into a V that showed off her cleavage but then stopped, leaving the rest of her midriff bare. There were small capped sleeves over her shoulders and a full back as though it were a normal shirt with the bottom half cut off, so it covered her more than if she were wearing a white bikini top or something similar.
But it was still cut so low that the top of her bra showed through, and she must have been saving it because it was one that he hadn’t seen before. A pale peach, lacy thing that he hoped matched her panties, just enough of the delicate fabric peeking over the top to make him want to tear the whole thing off.
The skirt was short and hugged her hips, the bright white drawing out the glow in her skin, her stomach and hips, her long, long legs. He bent down before her and pressed his lips to the skin below her belly button, running his hands over her hips and the gorgeous crest of her ass.
She tugged at him to get him to stand and he took the opportunity to run his lips up her bare skin, skipping over the small clasp of fabric between her breasts and then kissing the exposed line of her chest where her bra and the fitted shirt pushed her soft curves out.
She put her arms around him and ran her fingers under the waist of his boxer-briefs. He was getting way, way too excited, but the sun was going down and they could hear the music coming up from the beach, a low bass drowning out the whispers of the ocean and the high-pitched swell of the gathering crowds. It was definitely time for them to get out there. He tried to make his cock behave as he kissed her warmly on the lips.
“All ready?” he murmured, unable to keep his hands off her ass as he leaned in to smell the soft, clean scent of her shampoo and the lotion on her skin.
“I want you to know that I’m only doing this because when else am I going to be on Copacabana Beach for New Years.”
Her stern resolve made him laugh. “So you don’t walk around Chicago dressed like this all the time?”
She shot him a withering look. “Very funny, hot stuff.”
“Should I wear this shirt?” he asked, motioning to pull on the V-neck to see if she thought it went with the pants, but she snatched it out of his hands.
“If I’m naked, so are you.”
“Fair is fair,” he grinned, and together they slid on their sandals and stepped out into the warm, electric night.
Chapter Eighteen
Everything had seemed fine in their hotel room. But once she was under the harsh lights of the hotel lobby, Julia felt herself shrink. As she and Blake strode outside, she desperately wanted to tear her hand out of his, race upstairs, and change back into her familiar cut offs and tank top.
Or hide under the bed and not come out at all.
It wasn’t that she was uncomfortable with the outfit itself, but it was so far outside how she normally dressed that it felt like it wasn’t even her. She was afraid everyone was going to stare at her accusingly, like they knew she was doing something wrong.
But no one batted an eye. The concierge at the hotel was dressed in a crisp white suit and flashed them a smile and a wave as they crossed the lobby, wishing them a Feliz Ano Novo, a phrase Julia knew she was going to be hearing a lot of in the coming night. No sirens wailed, no Good Girl Police came to take her in for breaking the contract that said she was supposed to stay home, be practical, and take care of everyone else while they had a good time.
If only Liz could see me now¸ she thought, and grinned as she and Blake stepped out into the night.
“What’s got you so happy?” Blake asked, his eyes dancing in the soft light that spilled out into the street from the buildings along the strip of sand.
“Thinking about how low Liz’s jaw would drop if she saw me,” Julia said truthfully.
“Something tells me Liz would have a blast tonight,” he laughed.
“Yeah, and normally I’d be the one telling her to be careful and don’t get back too late and drink another glass of water before taking more shots.”
Blake squeezed her hand. “No babysitting tonight.”
“Not like she really needs it,” Julia admitted, and Blake nodded like maybe that’s what he’d been thinking, too. It was starting to dawn on her that Liz had never really needed a babysitter—just a friend. She and Danny had been so focused on taking care of her, they’d forgotten that it was still okay to have a good time. Anything that had happened was Mark’s fault. Liz didn’t need to punish herself anymore.
Julia understood it now. Of course Liz wanted her to go off and have fun on her own. Julia could be a good friend and still have the time of her life. She might even be a better friend for letting herself experience all that the world had in store.
As the crowd on the beach swallowed them in, Julia felt a strange weight lifting from her shoulders. It was like something she hadn’t even realized she was carrying around had jumped of
f and was now circling far above them in the night sky, never to return.
The beach was crowded but even with all the people pouring steadily onto the sand it didn’t feel stifling. Julia had spent other New Year’s Eves crammed next to strangers to watch fireworks, her fingers and toes so frozen she just wanted the ball to drop so she could go home. More recently she’d taken to staying in with a small group of friends so they could drink champagne and eat hors d’oeuvres and fall asleep in a heap on somebody’s couch, waking up to stuff themselves with French toast in the morning.
It was always fun, but not like this. This was the pulse of music in her veins, the smell of salt and charred, grilled foods, the cold tartness of a caipirinha in her hands as Blake passed her a drink from a stall under a beach umbrella. This was warm and alive and exhilarating as she pressed the cup against her to keep it from being jostled and a cold drip of condensation snaked down her stomach with a thrill.
There were all sorts of platforms with bands and performers set up along the stretch of beach, as well as trucks and vans with sound systems on top and people setting up right on the sidewalk along the sand. One sound merged into the next as they walked from stage to stage, carried by the surge of the crowd and the driving, rhythmic beat.
And everywhere the sea of sweaty, gyrating bodies illuminating the ocean and the sand, millions of bright, breathing things swaying and churning with one pulse.
One caipirinha was replaced with another, and more food from the stalls, and soon she and Blake were dancing on the beach, bodies pressed together, his bare chest glistening with sweat as he guided her hips to move with his to the frenzied beat. If only the clubs in Chicago were like this, Julia thought—Liz might actually succeed in getting her to go more often.
They danced barefoot in a throng of people, and then a circle spread, and they were clapping along with everyone else as one by one dancers entered the center of the circle and performed the fluid, powerful motions of capoeira, a martial-arts based dance that took Julia’s breath away. The dancers were incredible, something between hip-hop and break dancing and karate. They flipped from their feet onto their hands and back again, moving low and circling each other, building up a competition between each dancer who took to the center of the circle. They clapped and cheered and egged the dancers on, sweaty and breathless, and when that circle broke up, another formed, and then another, so that the whole beach was one surging group of dancers finding their own ways to move.
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