Rites of Spring (Break) (il-3) by Diana Peterfreund

Author:Diana Peterfreund [Peterfreund, Diana]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: prose_contemporary
ISBN: 978-0-440-33791-1
Publisher: A Delta Trade Paperback
Published: 2008-03-19T04:00:00+00:00

12. On the Beach

This is what I remember about that moment:

1) Poe tasted like salt and suntan oil.

2) His hands stiffened on my hips. Not tighter, not looser, just…frozen.

3) The water made little squelching sounds as it flowed between our bodies.

4) It took a second or so for him to start kissing me back.

5) The kiss went on a lot longer than a second or so.

Poe finally pulled away and we blinked at each other in the sunlight. Quickly, I disentangled my legs from around his waist, but before I could let go of him completely, he’d covered my hands with his own. “Wait.”

And then we were kissing again, only this time our bodies were pressed together, and I could feel the silky sensation of his wet bathing suit on my legs, could feel the skin of his stomach rubbing against mine, and I realized he had his hand splayed against my back, holding me tight as the water swirled around us, and when I came up for air I saw that we were floating, that Poe had taken the opportunity to push off from the sandy bottom into the deeper arc of the lagoon, and to take me with him.

And for once, I didn’t freak out that I couldn’t touch the bottom. He pulled through the water with one hand and both legs, and I must have been holding my breath or something because I was floating along with him, skimming between the surface of the water and the planes of his chest.

Finally, he straightened, and once again, my toes sank into wet sand. I dropped my hands to my sides. Poe was breathing hard, his chest rising and falling in the water, and I wasn’t exactly calm myself. And since neither of us seemed to have any inclination to speak, I just walked up past him onto the sandbar.

The contrast between the coolness of the lagoon and the sun-warmed sand was extreme. I wrung droplets out of my hair and walked to the far end of the sandbar, looking out over the waves to the other island. As promised, I could see colorful tents clustered on the shore, the smoke from a cooking fire, the movement of tiny figures. Were they really conspiracy theorists? Were they watching me now? And if so, what did they think of the utterly pedestrian sight of a girl in a sports bra and gym shorts and a boy in a bathing suit kissing in the Florida surf? How could they spin that into their fevered fantasies of a New World Order?

And could they provide me with any interpretation I could use?

Poe joined me, still silent, then pulled off his backpack and dug around inside. He handed me a bottle of water, slightly warmed by the sun. The label had turned gummy in the sea, but I drank happily, washing away the flavor of salt. Funny how sweet plain water can be.

I passed the water back, swapping with Poe for a plastic baggie filled with grapes.

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