Daylight [Breakable Heaven #2]

7. You are not going anywhere

"Where are we going?" Rory asks for what it feels like the millionth time since she got in the car, and I giggle thinking back to when she surprised me by taking me to the beach just because she remembered I had said I missed the ocean.

The destination is pretty much the same as that time: we're heading to Nerja, a coastal town not far from Malaga. I've never been there, but truth to be told I've chosen it because I heard a while ago that my favorite actress, Vivien Reese, has a vacation home there. Not that I'm counting on meeting here, but from the way she spoke about it in an interview, it sounds like a wonderful place for a getaway. Because that's what we're doing, Rory and I: we're going away for a romantic weekend, hoping it will erase the current Lilian situation from our minds and that it will give us time to focus on each other and our relationship, rather than the unexpected arrival of my ex.

I splurged on a nice rental apartment with an ocean view that, although made my bank account cry, I'm sure will be worth every cent. It has rooftop hot tubs and a huge shower that I can easily see Rory and myself have sex in, and it's walking distance from both the town center and the beach. I have no doubts my girlfriend will love it.

"It's a surprise," I reply to Rory's question, smirking with my eyes fixed on the road. Thanks to my brilliant idea to leave Seville as soon as we were done with our lessons, and to the school's policy of closing earlier on summer Fridays, we are not finding any traffic, and we won't waste half a day to reach Nerja on a July Saturday morning.

I told Rory to pack a bag with basically everything she might need to go anywhere: jeans, t-shirts, shorts, skirts, a dress, swimsuits, beach towels, sandals, sneakers, boots, a sweater... her suitcase in the trunk of my car is ginormous and it would be more suited to a two-week vacation rather than a weekend getaway, but if I had specified what to pack then the surprise would have been spoiled.

When I told her we were going to get out of town for a couple of days she sounded enthusiastic, no matter what the destination might be, which leads me to believe that my plan will work. We really do need some time together alone, away from work, Seville, and an intrusive ex-girlfriend. Just the two of us, and hopefully a lot of sex and cuddles.

"Tadaaa," I announce as I stop the car in front of the rental apartment building, gesturing it with my arm. "Welcome to our home for the next two nights."

"Wow, Sasha, that's..." I can tell she's pleasantly surprised, which makes me very happy and confirms that all the money I spent to rent that place was worth it. I would give anything to always see that smile on her face and her eyes wide and glistening in wonder. The mind-blowing sex we have as soon as we lock the front door of the apartment behind us is a very pleasant extra.

I let Rory sleep in on Saturday morning, while I make breakfast in the small kitchen of the apartment with the supplies I brought from home. She wakes up to the smell of coffee, and I swear I have never seen anything more beautiful than her naked body half-covered in sheets and half in sunlight, her face still drowsy, but happy.

We eat at the table on the terrace, then we immediately hit the beach. Rory giggles as she always does when I apply a thick layer of SPF 100 - courtesy of CVS and Rachel who sent it to me, as here in Spain it is hard to come by - all over my body, so much that it makes me similar to one of those constipated-looking Twilight vampires: my skin is paler than usual, pearly, even, and it's almost sparkling.

"Have you ever gotten tanned in your life?" she mocks me.

I nod. "When I was a child I used to get this very beautiful golden color, and my hair became almost white. I don't know what happened, but when I hit puberty, I stopped getting tanned and I started getting burnt. So now I only have two colors: ghost-white and lobster-red."

"You're such a bad Californian," she laughs, stretching her long limbs as she enjoys the feeling of the sun on her skin, making me drool. I'll never get used to those legs.

"Not that I'm doing any better in Andalusia," I comment. "Maybe I should move to a northern country, where they barely see any sun."

"You are not going anywhere, missy," Rory replies, without even looking at me. She knows I have no interest in moving, especially to a place where the usual highest temperature in summer is 64 degrees Fahrenheit. I might hate the sun, but I surely love the heat!

We spend the day on the beach - not my favorite activity, to be honest, but Rory seems happy, and I take advantage of the time she falls asleep under the sun like a lizard or a cat to catch up on some reading - and then we go back to our apartment to get ready for dinner.

I booked a fine, quiet restaurant with spectacular views and, judging by the reviews, delicious food. This trip is costing me half of my paycheck, but I don't care. I'm going to tighten my belt once I get back home, so that won't be a problem. Wouldn't be the first time I live on microwaved ramen, after all. I wonder if they do have microwavable ramen in Spain.

Rory loves the food. It's such a pleasure seeing her eat like that, with so much enthusiasm. I know her weight will always be a sore spot to her, but at least now she doesn't hold back as she used to when it comes to food.

"Thank you for taking me here," she says smiling as she takes my hand in hers over the table. "I didn't know I need this until we got here. It's been... it's been really thoughtful of you. I like being here with you, away from our everyday life, away from everyone else. I can't wait for us to hit the road in August. Anyway... thank you for this surprise. You really spoil me sometimes."

"Anything for you," I reply, and I feel like that might be the time to finally tell her that I love her. "Rory... I—"

"¿Quieren un postre, señoras?" the waiter interrupts my romantic moment to ask if we want a dessert, and I mentally curse. I was so close.

I don't know why I'm making such a big deal about saying those three words to Rory. I mean, it's what I feel, so why not say it? Besides, I'm pretty sure she feels the same way, so I doubt it would be that kind of awkward moment when one person declares their feeling and the other just gawps without knowing what to say. I think it has something to do with the fact that I've only said I love you to one other person in my life - Lilian, obviously - and it was such a magical moment. She had taken me to Paris for my twenty-fifth birthday, and we had gone up the Eiffel Tower at exactly midnight. When the tower had started sparkling as it always does at the hour, Lilian had wished me a happy birthday, giving me her present: a silver bracelet with the coordinates of the bar where we had first met engraved on it. That was when I first told her I loved her, and the kiss that had followed still remains to this day one of the most romantic kisses ever. Lilian used to really surprise me that way from time to time, as she has never been romantic in the traditional sense - not cheesy, that's for sure. And yet she used to do things like that.

I shook my head, because the last thing I want this weekend is to think about Lilian. This weekend it's only about Rory and me, so I push those thoughts away to the most remote corner of my mind.

Rory and I order a dessert to share, then I pay and we take a stroll on the beach, holding hands and stopping to kiss every few steps. It's comfortable, quiet, nice. It's everything my relationship with Rory has been since the beginning - well, except the first few turbulent encounters in the school parking lot or in the car. Or in the school restroom. Or when Jean walked in on us and we broke up. Alright, I take it back. We've had our share of drama, but the point is we're good when we're together. We're not the perfect storm Lilian and I used to be. Rory isn't a storm, Rory is like daylight to me, and that is exactly what I want and what I need.

When we return to our apartment and we make love again and again, I realize there's no need to find the perfect moment to tell Rory that I love her, nor to actually say the words out loud. I'm sure she can feel it in every kiss, in every caress, in every whisper, and that's all that matters.