Chapterish 42

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Meg and I circle the cay at least three times over the next several hours. Each time we came up on the beach party, I could hear the pop of music and almost smell the mango drinks wafting on the waves.

We walk about the upcoming nuptials and our dresses and the unbelievable Tuscan-inspired mansion they're hosting the wedding at.

"It's stupid sick. I mean, like 17 bedrooms sick." Meg is paddling slowly to match my pace.

"Oh I've seen the pictures," I tell her. Sweat is dripping down my body, blending with the salt water pooling at my feet.

"That cliff-side? Killer backdrop. Didn't even know they had cliffs like that in Florida." Meg rambles.

"I'm still thinking about that infinity pool with the floating dance floor." I laugh.

The fourth time around, I see the guys pulling up to the beach on the mini boat.

"Looks like the boys found us." I spot Brooks first, without even trying.

"Guess snorkeling is over," Meg says.

I let out a sigh of relief.

"Just in time."

It's a sherbet sunset –the kind that's more orange than anything else. The sun is glowing neon, lighting up the sky like it's hanging at a downtown nightclub.

The 9 of them are lined up down the beach, their backs to the water. I face them, watching each one as they try to mimic my movements.

My eyes scan the row until they look with Brooks's. I think back to the time he crashed my studio in Seattle. Our early days. Before New Years and Miami. Before the cataclysm.

"OK. Now, stretch your arms. Level. Let's go warriors." I pretend I'm teaching my class back home.

Mostly all the girls can do all the beginner poses. Warrior II is painfully easy IMO.

Alex is laughably inflexible and Brody looks like a fish flopping on the sand.

Suffice it to say not everyone understands yoga. But they're all trying at least, which actually makes for some quality free entertainment. Surprising talent? Nate. Probably because he's so casually athletic at everything he does.

"OK. Deep inhale. Ready to shift?"

"Ready for post yoga drinks," Travis answers.

"Seriously, I'm famished," Alex echoes.

"Starving," Brooks agrees.

"Quit bitching. We're almost done." I roll my eyes.

"Hey! Do you talk to your class with that mouth?" Travis scolds me.

"Only if they suck as much as you," I tease.

Five minutes later I wrap it up.

"Done!" I shout.

Lauren and Whit collapse onto the sand. Meg continues to stretch and

Sunset is fading fast and the lights on the MS spring to life in the inkblot sky.

We load most of the shit onto the inflatable: the cooler, blankets, ring floats and most of the paddleboards. Brody and Alex drive the girls back on the boat. Nate and Travis follow on the wave-runners.

"There goes our ride." I watch the rest of the group leave the beach.

"Shall we?" Brooks pulls my hand toward the remaining two paddleboards.

"How'd we end up here?" I laugh.

"Punishment." Brooks shrugs. "For the yoga."

"Ha-ha," I fake laugh. Brooks laughs.

"Bitches took the paddles." I curse.

We paddle the 200 yards side-by-side, stomachs against the boards. The temperature drops quickly, but it's still a warm breeze. There's something insanely eerie about paddleboarding in the almost-night. Everything feels different.

"You guys have fun today?" Brooks asks me, peering sideways. His arm reaches over to my boards.

"Oh tons," I exaggerate. "You guys?"

"Sure," Brooks nods. "Loads."

"Let's see," I begin. "Whit wore a full face of make up to the beach and I think Lauren did her nails."

"Hmm. Nate found this killer reef spot. And Alex almost drowned. Good times." I catch a mischievous smirk on his face.

"You win." I splash him. "Isn't Alex supposed to be a lifeguard?"

"It was sort of Travis's fault. There was a jellyfish and a stolen snorkeling tube involved. Came up choking water for ten minutes," Brooks trails off.

"Bet you loved that," I joke.

"Don't get me wrong, I woulda saved his ass. But it was kinda fun to watch." Brooks continues paddling.

"Boys."

"Girls," Brooks sighs.

Twenty minutes later we come up on the MS. Music is already playing on the deck and I can smell the barbeque. My stomach grumbles instantly. Bad time to be a vegan.

"After you." I wait for Brooks to pull himself onto the lounge deck.

He emerges from the water effortlessly and pulls me up with one arm. I stack the paddleboards on top of the others and Brooks throws a towel at my face.

"Sounds like the party's started," he says.

I hear the low bass of music and laughter on the deck above us.

The words float on the wind, reaching my ears like some sign from the universe.

Paris. Chainsmokers.

Brooks shakes out his hair and pulls on his ratty old hoodie. The way the lantern glow illuminates his face –I can't resist him. I press my palms against his chest and lean on my tiptoes, pressing my lips into his.

I just want to show everyone we are better.

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