Some say that our lives are defined by the sum of our choices but it isn't really our choices that distinguish who we are . . . it's our commitment to them. In an arranged marriage, love is a luxury; friendship is not.
(Oliver Q./OC)
"The idea of spending the rest of your life with one person seems pretty unrealistic and, uh, also pretty boring. That's probably why I've had so many busted engagements . . ." Dinah Drake, S06E09
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I didn't drink.
Or, rarely.
A self-imposed standard; I'd learned that it was in my best interest to never impair my judgment – but there was something powerful, and affirming, in my head so full of the taste of the wine on my tongue. In the choice to surrender that decision.
I could breathe, here.
Turks and Caicos was an archipelago just south of the Bahamas. A nine hour flight from Starling City to the small, private airport on the island where a town car had been waiting to chauffer us to our equally private villa.
We arrived to find an expensive Italian wine waiting; the heavy black bottle cradled on a bed of tropical fruits and rich dark chocolates.
A gift, from the resort.
Reclining of a white wicker lounge chair, skin clean, still smelling of the herbal soap from my shower, I cradled my wine. The glass nestled in the palm of my hand, its delicate stem passing between my fingers.
An aromatic red with earthy notes of truffle, spice, cedar and, faintly, tobacco.
I was on my honeymoon . . .
. . . that was not why I was drinking.
Over the sighing of the sea, I was listening to the hiss from the shower inside our villa. Trying very hard not to imagine Oliver, naked, a body I hadn't even seen, yet, all hard and tight muscle slicked with suds. Strong hands roaming. Wandering.
Lower.
Touching.
My skin pimpled on a sudden rush of heat. With a body like that, shouldn't be too hard keeping the wedding sheets warm. I gulped at my wine, and vowed to murder my sister when we got home.
I was attracted to him.
Because he was attractive. There was no denying it and to my mind, that was a good start. Love would happen in its own time; attraction made for a fair foundation when coupled with the realization that I did, in fact, like him.
My phone dinged.
The setting sun seemed to melt into the sea; color eddying in the crystal waters of a tropical ocean. Indigo sky like a shroud being drawn over the world, chasing the light . . . It was stunningly beautiful, and very quiet.
I curled my feet up on the chair, reclining more comfortably on the padded cushion.
My phone dinged again. The musical chime too loud, jarring, in the peaceful twilight. Like someone poking me with the sharp end of a stick: Hey! I'm talking to you. I blew out a sigh and set my wineglass down on the floor of the veranda.
