the Devil and the Sea

4| How it started

The stranger who broke my admiration of the starry sky laughs loudly. Yes, so contagious that I involuntarily smile in response. 

I watch him in the semi-darkness as he walks up to me, sport shorts hanging from his hips. Those are all his clothes. Oh, and he has a black cap on his head, the visor hides the upper part of his face.

A stranger holds out his hand to me and I, accepting his help, rise to my feet. The light from the fireworks across the bay skims across his face, illuminating his upturned nose and full lips. The sweaty skin of his beefy torso glistens beautifully as lights explode in the sky.

I'm starting to get a little jittery at his attractiveness. Or out of fear. Or because of the cold. Or because of the alcohol. Or because of something else. Hell will take it apart.

"If you're such a gentleman, you shouldn't have sneaked up unnoticed." I speak English, as the stranger spoke to me in it. He looks like a foreigner, which is not uncommon here.

I gently slap my ass and thighs with my palms, brushing off the sand. The stranger looks me up and down, and I instinctively straighten my back and assume a confident stance. I'm wearing a white crop top, short black shorts, and Converses.

"I didn't sneak up: I just ran past."

I look around, running my eyes over the palm trees and at the passers-by, as if someone might be eavesdropping.

"Sportsman?" My voice is full of sarcasm. I look at the sweaty stranger again; maybe he's the same age as me.

"Are you an alcoholic?" I can hear the mockery in his voice as I watch him turn his head to where the unfortunate bottle I overturned lies.

"Not. I'm just celebrating." I put the last words in air quotes, then pick up the bottle and sit back on the side and look back at the fireworks.

The glow of lights blurs in my intoxicated eyes, and salty tears dry unpleasantly on the skin.

Although I did not invite him, this stranger sits down next to me, and I feel the warmth of his body, heated from running. He spread his legs wide and put his hands to his sides on the concrete floor.

"I think you stopped in the wrong place."I'm hinting at him leaving me alone.

"I stopped at exactly the place I wanted to." He declares nonchalantly. And a wild thought slips through my mind: is this guy trying to flirt with me?

I try not to stare at him, resting my eyes on the abyss of the night sea.

"So why are you here sitting alone and whine in a drunken mood?"

Here is sticky.

"I don't whine." I answer dispassionately, trying to stand my ground.

"Oh, yes?" He lets out an arrogant laugh.

"We don't know each other, so what do you care?" My voice is quite caustic, so he will most likely want to leave.

"To be honest, I don't." He admits, unperturbed.

Wow.

"Then get lost." My voice sounds dry, so now he definitely has to get his ass off the concrete and leave me alone.

I freeze, waiting for the stranger to leave, but he doesn't even move. We are silent for a while, only interrupted by the sound of the surf, and volleys of fireworks and distant exclamations and laughter of some people walking along the embankment.

I regret that Phil is not with me: he could throw this guy away and calmly let me return to daydreaming about myself.

This annoying stranger sits next to me in a completely relaxed pose, as if he doesn't care. The way fireworks play on his adorably plump lips and sweaty skin is a special sight.

I turn to face the stranger and look shamelessly at his bare torso. In just a few seconds, he proved himself to be a real asshole, which contrasts with the pleasant sound of his English speech. And, strangely enough, I want to hear him more.

"So what do you say you celebrate today?" His voice is so lively, maybe this is not quite the right choice of words, but I feel something.

I begin to tell that from June 23 to 24 our country celebrates San Juan. What for the Spaniards is the favorite event of the summer season. That this summer night symbolizes the victory of light over darkness. I tell him that, on this holiday, everyone from young to old perform a dance of joy and wealth, and tourists willingly join these dances. I mention that after jumping over bonfires comes the turn of water, and the Spaniards dive into the sea. I tell him that the water is already warm these days, and it is on this day that it is customary to open the swimming season. Arranging swims during San Juan is considered tradition. I'm so engrossed in my story that I forget to ask where he came from. And even when I finish, I still do not dare. He obviously is not going to get to know me, because he did not even say his name, and did not ask me the same thing in all thirty minutes of our interaction.

"Ah! That's why they tried to call me to drink alcohol several times, and hot beauties asked me to dance with them." Thinking, the stranger, smiling, picks the sand under his feet with the toe of his sneaker.

"Everyone wants to dance with a guy who has such an athletic body." The words come out of me on their own, and only then I do realize what I said out loud.

If I had known that I would have to talk to someone, I would have drunk much less. Tonight is a special night and you can meet anyone. It can end up in any way you want, but I planned to stay in the background and not interact with anyone.

"Are you trying to flirt with me?" Now this stranger responds tenderly, rubbing his chin, but it seems to me that this tenderness is fake.

I quickly try to figure out how to get out.

"I just didn't finish: any drunk girl who lacks attention from men will throw herself out of desperation at any guy whose body looks attractive. And it doesn't really matter who that actually is."

His lips stretch, revealing perfect teeth.

"Are you saying that because you're drunk too? You're still staring at my torso." The self-satisfied energy that now rushes from him amuses me.

I involuntarily stare at his body: his chest is really very attractive, he must have put a lot of effort into building such a beautiful body.

"Back off." I try to hide a smile, but it is reflected in my voice.

"You can touch it if you want." He begins to stretch his muscles, playing with them.

"What?"

"Touch my, in your words: athletic body. You devour it with your eyes." I hear a laugh in his voice, which makes me feel at ease and I suddenly become cheerful.

I move closer to him and lift my hand, slowly moving my fingers towards his abs. I notice on his chest that his breath has gone astray. I take my hand away and start laughing genuinely.

"Did you really think that I would touch you? You're crazy." I shout and hear him laugh.

"Actually, I didn't think so." He pokes my thigh with his hip. "I knew you would be scared." He runs his tongue over his upper teeth.

"I'm not scared."

He leans towards me, playfully putting his ear out, pretending not to hear, and our shoulders touch. I pull back and punch him in the shoulder to make him sit up straight again, and he smiles again.

I like this mood, an easy ease. Tonight is just such a night, any stranger can promise you something, say - "I met this guy, and we could end up together on the beach, kissing, because it was San Juan."

For a while, the stranger and I sit in silence, each thinking about our own stuff.

I lift my head and silently stare at the colorful sky and wonder how Phil and Marina are doing there, and try to understand if I did the right thing by choosing loneliness instead of fun with friends.

"I'm still waiting for you to burst and start talking about what's been eating you." Finally, the stranger sitting next to me speaks, not looking at me.

But that doesn't quite feel like loneliness. I swallow silently.