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Chapter 73

We had nothing to lose
Nothing to gain
Nothing we desired anymore
Except to make our lives into a work of art 
Live fast
Die young
Be wild and have fun

– Lana Del Rey, Ride (Ending Monologue)

. . . .

"Come on, Vi. We have to make the reservation by five."

He's been standing at the door to the balcony, nagging at me about the reservation for ten minutes. I got the memo the first time around, but each time he reminds me, I just nod and avoid getting mascara smeared across my eyelid or lipstick out of line.

"I'm ready; calm your ass down."

"You look gorgeous," he kisses the skin from my exposed shoulder blade down to my forearm. "And unbelievably sexy."

In a voice similar to his, I say, "Come on. We can't miss this reservation."

"Well, we can't."

Once downstairs, we say goodbye to everyone that's seated on the back deck and walk out to the car parked in the driveway. The drive to the restaurant is short, so I don't know why he's making a big deal about it.

The restaurant is gorgeous, cute, and cozy. There's only indoor seating, but there's a panoramic view of landscaping for all tables. Plants line the outside windows, creating a frame that showcases the crashing clear water. The sun hasn't set yet, just a bit cloudy, but nevertheless, it's stunning. He's outdone himself.

Once we're seated, he adjusts the wrist buttons on his blue dress shirt. His hair is styled back with gel. He's sporting a bit of stubble, which I basically begged him to keep right when he reached for his razor to shave.

"You look very handsome."

"Thank you. I'm not sure how I feel about the stubble though."

"I think it looks hot."

I'm catching flames inside as he stares at me from across the table. The chatter around us is muted and the eye-catching scenery all around us has gone dark. The light, baby blue colour of his shirt makes his green eyes pop and his skin glow under the dimmed lights.

I take a sip of the complimentary water the waitress placed in front of us. In the middle of him explaining a story that happened at the house when he was eleven, the same waitress comes by to take our drink orders. Then follows up with our entrees. Multiple tables clear out before we're even close to being halfway done with our meals.

Once our plates are clean and the check is paid, it's nearly just past eight at night and the sun is setting over the horizon of the ocean. We walk back out to the car and during the car ride back to the house, his fingers twist and fiddle with the hem of my dress. One of Harry's songs plays in the background of the stereo speakers.

Once the house comes into view and we're parked in the driveway, we both get out, and he goes to the boot of his car and fishes out a black duffel bag. We start heading towards the house, but once my foot hits the first step of the porch, Harry's arms wrap around my waist and I'm yanked back into the chest. He loops his arm around mine, guiding me around the house to the beach behind the property. He starts unbuttoning his shirt and leaves it open billowing in the slight breeze.

"What's that for?" I point to the black bag he drops onto the ground. He quickly shuts the open flap of the bag once he notices that I'm staring.

"Nothing for you to see."

He removes his shirt entirely, walking to stand in front of me, and starts tying the material around my head. "Now go sit down there. I'll be done in a few minutes."