Luca
“I can’t believe we are in Miami!” Olivia says as the Uber drives away from the airport.
“I can’t believe you’ve never been to Miami before,” I say. She is staring out the window like a kid, and I am just watching her.
“I’ve never been to Florida before,” she says.
“Really? Why not?” I ask.
“Some of us don’t have all the frequent-flier miles in the world,” she says, still trying to take it all in.
“All the money in the world,” I say under my breath, and she just shakes her head with a smile.
“It’s gorgeous.”
You’re gorgeous…
I don’t say that, obviously. But it’s true.
She’s wearing a coral-colored dress that brings out the peachy color of her skin.
Skin that will soon be exposed because, if I had to guess, Olivia is going to want to go to the beach.
Especially when she sees the hotel we are staying at.
It’s not exactly in the middle of the city.
Even though that’s usually where I stay on these trips.
“I still can’t believe you brought me with you,” she says, leaning away from her window and towards mine. She’s practically on top of me as she stretches to see everything.
“You seem surprised by a lot of things,” I say.
“Listen, if your life was as uneventful as mine, you’d be acting like this too,” I say.
“I doubt it,” I say, but there’s no tone in my voice. Honestly, being here with her, watching her grow more and more excited has me on the verge of smiling.
When we reach the hotel, her mouth drops open.
“Here?” she asks. “We’re staying here?”
“We’re staying here,” I tell her, getting out to open her door for her.
Meanwhile, the driver takes our bags out and sets them on the cart the concierge brings over to us.
We check in and head out the back door to the patio.
From there we get the full view: a giant pool with a grotto and a waterfall, a bar, and of course, the beach.
“It’s so blue,” she says. “And I know it’s not cold.”
Go figure, of all things, it’s Olivia stating the obvious that gets me to smile. The irony is that she is so distracted looking around that she doesn’t even notice.
“Hungry?” I ask, nodding over to the bar and lounge.
“Always,” she says before looking over at me, and I swear her cheeks are pink. “That wasn’t very ladylike, was it?”
“I like transparency,” I shrug, taking her hand and leading her to the entrance. “I’m also starving.”
We snag a table outside at her insistence, where she can see the view. She points out everything from the palm trees, the blue water, the seagulls, and the flowers.
“Seriously, I didn’t think it would actually look like a postcard. We might as well be in Hawaii.”
“We could go to Hawaii,” I say, popping a piece of fruit in my mouth.
Olivia turns back to face me. “That seems a little ambitious, doesn’t it?” she asks.
“Why? You don’t even need passports to go to Hawaii. And once you get to San Francisco, the flight’s not bad.”
“I just mean because this is only date five. Five? Six?” she asks, taking a bite of her salad. It’s funny. We aren’t very much alike, and yet we are. I don’t eat heavily when I travel. I prefer fresh, healthy food. Olivia said the same thing.
“If you’ve lost count, I think it’s safe to say this isn’t just a casual fling anymore,” I say, curious how she will respond to that.
“I mean, you did bring me to Miami,” she says. Her tone suggesting she is curious about how I am digesting this conversation as well.
“Exactly,” I agree.
“Exactly,” she says, pulling the lemon wedge off the rim of her water glass and dropping it into the glass. She takes a sip and then stops and looks at me. “Exactly what?” she asks.
“What do you mean?” I ask, keeping my tone easy and neutral.
“I guess I am just curious why you invited me with you on your work trip,” she says. I know what she’s getting at. She’s wondering if this is getting serious. If it’s becoming more. And if so…what’s next?
That depends on whether she is still messing with me. And I suppose whether or not I am messing with her.
I know the answer to one of those questions.
And as I stare at her from across the table in her dress, with her hair loosely braided and her cheeks already sun-kissed, I feel pretty positive I know the answer to the other question as well.
How I feel about that, I haven’t decided, but I have time to figure it out.
“Because I wanted to,” I simply state. “Do I need more of a reason than that?”
Olivia studies me for a moment before her lips soften into a smile. “No, I suppose not.”
After we finish lunch, I take her up to the room. It’s a suite on the top floor, and if the view was good from the lobby of the hotel, this is enough to knock her off her feet.
“This doesn’t even look real,” she says as she steps out onto the balcony. Her eyes are on the horizon, but when she glances down all thirty floors, she backs up, pressing right against me. “And it’s really high,” she laughs nervously.
“Are you afraid of heights?” I ask.
“No…kind of. Yes. It’s really high…” she says again, and I turn her around to face me. Then I wrap my arms around her and pull her closer.
“Is this better?” I ask, my voice low. Our bodies fit together perfectly, it seems. Her soft curves meld into my lean muscle. The height difference is just right, too. I’m tall, over six feet. But Olivia is neither tall nor short for a girl, and with her wedge shoes, it’s just right.
“I mean, it’s not terrible,” she says, and something in me stirs. She’s a flirt, whether she means to be or not. But who are we kidding? She’s being intentional right now. Which is why I am intentional in return.
“No? How about this?” I ask, clipping her chin between my fingers and planting a kiss on her lips. Olivia doesn’t respond. Not in words, anyways. But when her body softens against mine, that’s decidedly all the answer I need.
After a long moment of slowly getting reacquainted, I pull back a little. It’s safe to say that if I didn’t have my arms around her, she’d be in a puddle on the floor of the balcony.
“Alright. I have to go to work,” I tell her. “Boring meetings and such. So you explore, enjoy the beach, and when I get back, we are going out.”
“Out?” she asks.
“Dinner,” I tell her. “And for the record, this is date six,” I say, turning to leave.
“Which part? The trip? The dinner?” she asks, her voice still breathy from our little make-out session.
“All of it,” I say with a wink.