Cecilia - Fourteen
The marina was already glittering with sunlight by the time we arrived, a mosaic of white boats bobbing against sapphire water, ropes creaking softly against the docks.
Siena was practically vibrating beside me, her tote bag slung over one shoulder and sunglasses perched high on her head like she was auditioning for a yacht commercial.
“I’m telling you now,” she said, scanning the row of boats with narrowed eyes, “if this thing has a name like Lady Linda or Sea the Moment , I’m swimming back to shore.”
I smiled, trying to play it cool, but my stomach was a tangled mess of nerves and questions. We’d said goodbye to Theo and Nate the night before, and I’d gone straight back to the apartment and replayed everything . The sorbet. The thumb. The words Theo had said in that low, careful voice.
You’re not just beautiful in a friend way, Celia. You’re beautiful in a lose-my-mind-every-time-you-look-at-me way.
I still didn’t know what to do with that. I’d tried to tell Siena, but the words had felt too electric in my mouth. Too exposed. Instead, I’d mumbled something about the boat and fled to bed, staring at the ceiling and wondering if Theo had meant it. If I wanted him to.
Now, walking towards the end of the dock, I spotted Nate first — dressed in a loose T-shirt and board shorts, already helping a man untie the ropes from what was, shockingly, not a dinghy.
The boat was sleek and white, just large enough for the five of us. Definitely hired. Definitely not a casual oh, yeah, I have a boat situation.
Theo was standing barefoot at the stern, sunglasses low on his nose, talking quietly with Nate. The breeze moved through his hair and my mouth went dry just looking at him.
He saw me, and something in his expression shifted — not a full smile, just a softening. A flicker of something I felt all the way down to my toes.
“Morning,” he said as I stepped onto the deck.
“Hi,” I replied, because that was apparently all my vocabulary could manage. Then, forcing myself to act normal, I added, “Didn’t realise you were secretly a seafarer.”
“Oh, he’s got a yacht club membership and everything,” Nate called out dryly. “Gold trim. Monogrammed deck shoes.”
Theo gave him a look, then turned to me, letting his sunglasses slide to the top of his head. “I do have good balance. That’s got to count for something.”
His gaze dipped to my bare legs — not in a creepy way, just… observant. Like he couldn’t help it.
“I like your dress,” he added, voice low .
It wasn’t a dress. It was technically a swimsuit cover-up I’d panicked-bought two days ago when Siena said we might hit a beach. Thin, white, a little too short — but I didn’t say that. I just nodded and muttered, “Thanks,” and quickly busied myself with stowing our bag.
Siena bounced up onto the boat behind me, throwing herself dramatically into the cushioned seating area.
“Right!” she announced. “Someone pour me something bubbly and tell me where the lifejackets are.”
Nate rolled his eyes. “One of those is a sensible request.”
Theo stepped over to me, a hand lightly catching the rail next to mine. Close. Too close. Not close enough.
“You, okay?” he asked, voice quieter now. “After yesterday?”
I nodded, not trusting myself to answer right away.
“Good,” he said. “Because I meant every word.”
I looked up at him. And for the first time since Siena and I had arrived in France – hell the first time for years, I didn’t feel lost because of a man, I felt seen.
And that scared me more than anything.
Once we were all settled in, the boat rocked gently beneath our feet as we cast off from the dock, the engine humming low as Nate guided us away from the marina with calm, practiced ease.
Rae sat beside him, legs swinging, already wearing a pink-and-white sunhat that was slightly too big for her.
Her feet didn’t touch the floor and she looked entirely unbothered by that fact.
Siena leaned over the side, grinning into the wind. “Okay, this is already better than anything I imagined. Someone take a picture of me looking effortless and windswept.”
“I’ll take one of you falling overboard in a second,” Nate said, deadpan, but I caught the faint twitch at the corner of his mouth.
“You’d miss me,” she shot back, plonking herself down on the bench across from Rae. “Hey you,” she added, smiling warmly at the little girl. “We met at the market, right? You were picking peaches.”
Rae nodded, solemn. “I only picked the ones with no bruises.”
“Strong choice,” Siena said, nodding in approval. “Peach politics are serious.”
I sat beside them, untying the scarf from my hair. Rae blinked up at me, tilting her head like she was studying something.
“You had sunglasses at the market,” she said. “Different ones.”
It made me laugh. “You have a good memory.”
“She remembers everything,” Nate said, glancing over his shoulder as he steered. There was something fond in his voice, something soft and proud that settled in my chest like a stone wrapped in silk.
“She’s got a good eye,” Siena added, nudging Rae gently with her knee. “Like her dad.”
Rae didn’t say anything, but she smiled — small and secret — and leaned into Siena’s side like she trusted her without needing a reason.
The boat picked up speed, slicing through the glittering water, salt wind in my face, the sun warm against my skin. Theo was at the far end now, fiddling with something near the cooler, and even from here I could feel the pull of him.
Rae’s giggle permeated the air as Siena attempted to teach her to mermaid braid hair, something I was confident she was making up as she went, but it kept Rae intrigued nevertheless and I noted that Nate kept looking over fondly at his daughter – his eyes floating to my best friend briefly before he turned back to the sea.
The sun was an amber weight across my skin, warm and heady, like honey pooling over my shoulders.
I’d peeled off my slip half an hour ago and was stretched out in my bikini, book resting on my stomach, sunglasses slipping slightly as I soaked in the heat.
The sea shimmered around us, calm and endless, and the boat moved so gently it felt like floating in a dream.
I must’ve lost track of time — the sea had that effect — because I didn’t notice we’d stopped.
Not until a splash cut through the stillness.
I didn’t react at first. I just turned a page lazily, assuming it was Siena or Rae tossing something into the water. But then came the sound of bare feet padding along the deck… and the sudden, shocking splash of water hitting my thighs.
Cold droplets trailed across my sun-warmed skin, making me flinch.
I looked up—ready to scold—and froze.
Theo stood above me, still dripping from the sea.
His hair was soaked and pushed back, water trickling down his chest in slow, deliberate rivulets.
The sun caught every angle of him: the strong cut of his shoulders, the dip of his collarbone, the faint trail of droplets winding across the flat plane of his stomach.
His swim trunks hung low on his hips, clinging slightly from the water, and I was suddenly, devastatingly aware of every inch of him.
“I thought you were reading,” he said, voice casual, almost smug.
“I was,” I muttered, eyes not quite meeting his.
“Seemed like you needed a break.” He reached for the towel near my hip, but I knew exactly what he was doing—baiting me. Distracting me.
When he reached again, I slapped at his hand. “You’re dripping everywhere.”
“Am I?” he said, and before I could react, he leaned down and shook his head lightly sending another spray of seawater over my legs and arms.
“Theo!” I shrieked, sitting up, but he was already laughing.
“We’re going swimming,” he announced, backing up a step, water still trailing from his skin. “Come on.”
“I just dried off!”
“Exactly.” He reached for me, mock-threatening now. “Don’t make me carry you.”
I scrambled away from the bench, squealing as his hands nearly caught my waist, but I wriggled free and darted to the edge of the boat. I caught his grin just before I dove cleanly into the water.
The sea wrapped around me in an instant—cool and smooth and clear. I surfaced with a gasp, laughing, then spun just in time to hear him dive in after me, his laugh echoing through the cove.
“Come on,” he said, swimming ahead, his voice soft now. “Follow me. ”
I did.
We swam past the boat, out toward a quiet patch of water near the edge of the cove. The world narrowed to just this: the hush of waves, the glint of sun on the surface, the occasional rush of water in my ears as I caught up to him.
He slowed, then stopped, flipping onto his back and floating effortlessly.
I hovered nearby, watching him—his body stretched out in the water, golden skin kissed by salt and sun, arms wide, eyes closed, chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm.
Water clung to him in little beads, catching the light like stars.
I took in the sharp cut of his jaw, the flex of muscle beneath his chest as he drifted.
I was staring. There was no point pretending otherwise.
He opened one eye. Just one.
And caught me.
I flushed, blinking once, about to recover, about to say you’re impossible or what? but before I could get the words out—
“I broke up with Natalie,” he said.
Just like that.
No build-up. No drama. Just truth, quiet and clear, suspended between us like the space we hadn’t dared cross.
The water stilled around us, like it had heard him too.
I treaded gently, my hands moving in slow circles just beneath the surface. He didn’t look away. Didn’t soften it with a smile or follow it up with some half-joke to fill the silence .
My heart kicked, not because I hadn’t wondered—God, I’d wondered—but because part of me hadn’t expected him to say it out loud. Not like this. Not when the sun was burning gold over the cliffs and we were floating in the middle of nowhere and everything already felt too much.
“When?” I asked, my voice low, barely more than a ripple.
He dropped his eyes to the water. “The night of the beach party.”
I floated closer, still not quite meaning to, the water drawing me in like gravity. We were only a few feet apart now, the silence stretching between us again, but this time it felt different. Like we were both choosing it.
His gaze slid back to mine. “I didn’t want her to think it had anything to do with you. That wouldn’t be fair. But I couldn’t keep pretending either.”
I swallowed. “And now?”
“Now I want to be honest.” His voice was soft, but steady. “With you.”
The sun glinted off the water, catching in his lashes, in the droplets still clinging to his shoulders. His chest rose slowly, like he was bracing for something—for me to swim away or laugh or say nothing at all.
But I didn’t move. I couldn’t.
Because suddenly I was back on the lookout, confessing what Adrian had done to me. I was back on the stone wall with lemon sorbet and his thumb brushing my chin. I was twelve and sixteen and twenty-four all at once, and I was looking at Theo like I’d never really looked at him before .
I let the silence stretch, and then I asked, quietly, “What are you being honest about?”
His eyes didn’t flinch. “That I want you.”
A breath hitched in my throat.
“Not just for now. Not just because we’re here. I want you, Celia. And I’ve wanted you since that kiss. Maybe even before.”
I opened my mouth to speak — but I had no idea what I was about to say.
So instead, I looked away.
Not in shame. Not in rejection. Just... overwhelmed.
“I – can I just have a moment?” I asked.
I turned slowly in the water and began to swim. Not fast, not dramatic — just quiet strokes through the sunlit cove, each movement deliberate, each breath steady.
I needed something solid beneath me. I needed time to feel what had just been handed to me so freely, so honestly. The kind of confession I’d once imagined and then buried because it had always felt impossible.
The sand met my feet sooner than I expected, and I stood, the water sheeting from my body in gentle waves as I walked the last few steps to the shore.
The beach was small, hidden, curved like a secret. I found a spot where the tide reached just enough to kiss the backs of my calves, then sank down into the warm, sun-drenched sand. The salt dried on my skin in fine crystals, clinging like the weight of his words.
He wanted me.
Not just now. Not just in some half-hearted, holiday-romance kind of way.
He had wanted me for years .
I wrapped my arms loosely around my knees, watching the sea move in slow, rhythmic swells. I could still hear the distant sounds of Rae giggling, Siena calling something to Nate on the boat. Life was carrying on, gently, as if nothing extraordinary had happened.
I sat there long enough for the tide to creep higher, threading cool fingers around my ankles, then pulling back again. The rhythm was hypnotic. Safe. My thoughts still felt messy, layered and knotted like seaweed beneath the surface, but I let them be. I didn’t try to untangle anything yet.
I heard him before I saw him—his quiet steps shifting the sand behind me, careful and slow.
Theo didn’t say anything. He just came to sit beside me, leaving the right kind of space. Enough to breathe. Enough to feel him there.
We stared out at the water together.
His presence was warm beside me, his legs bent like mine, his arms resting lightly over his knees. There was a drop of seawater still clinging to his shoulder, catching the light as it slid down the curve of his back.
I could feel the tension vibrating just beneath the quiet. Not the awkward kind. The kind that only existed between people who didn’t need to fill silence to be understood.
After a while, he leaned back on his palms and let out a soft breath. “I wasn’t expecting to say it like that.”
“I wasn’t expecting to hear it.”
He nodded slowly, then glanced sideways at me, just briefly. “You don’t have to say anything. I just... needed you to know. ”
I looked down at the sand between my fingers. Let it sift through, grain by grain.
“I do want to say something,” I said eventually, my voice almost too quiet to hear. “I just don’t know how yet.”
Theo didn’t push. He didn’t press his thigh closer or reach for my hand. He just stayed beside me, watching the tide roll in.
And I think—maybe—that’s what made it matter.
He was patient. Present. The opposite of every person who had ever tried to hurry me into being ready for something I wasn’t.
We sat there until the sea touched our toes, and even then, neither of us moved.