Never Summer Again

Chapter Forty - Ladies Are Boring

Score: Love Story - Taylor Swift

Lydia

"We're such a cliche," I roll my eyes, as I push up on my elbows on Mark's now very wrinkled jacket. "Having sex on the beach like horny teenagers."

"For the record, you are a horny teenager." Mark teases, taking his phone out of the pocket of his jeans and turning the flashlight on. "Seriously, you're insatiable. I'm barely keeping up with you."

Shocked, I swat at his hand. He laughs.

"Besides, there's a reason why it's a cliche. If it wasn't fun, people wouldn't be doing it. They wouldn't be dedicating songs to it and naming bloody cocktails after it."

"I've never done it before," I say.

"Me, neither."

He pulls up to a sitting position, with his phone still in his hand. He tosses it onto the jacket between us, with the flashlight up. A smile is playing on his lips. His boyish smile, which I love so much.

"Yeah, right!" I wave him off. "You've been living in LA for more than a year and you've never had sex on the beach?"

"It's not about the place, Lydia. It's about the person."

A swarm of butterflies is suddenly let loose in my chest. His words from earlier echo in my mind.

I love you. I am in love with you.

I love how those words sounded, coming out of his mouth. Those words, which get thrown around so much these days and seem to have lost their meaning in today's fake world, actually sounded like they were meant for this exact moment between us. For him to say them and for me to hear them. To believe them. To find meaning in them again.

You didn't say it back, though, my subconscious nudges at my brain.

And it's the truth.

I didn't say it back. Not because it isn't true. On the contrary. Because I know it is true. But, I feel like, if I say it out loud, it'd be the moment I finally surrender the last piece of myself to him. I've already given him my body, more than willingly, I have surrendered my thoughts to him, we have even been living together since I left Brompton Square. This is all happening way too fast for me. I feel like there's nothing left of me, to have for myself and myself only.

I've never felt like this before. I've always been guarded and collected, especially after The Incident. Throughout the two years that Patrick and I dated, I kept all of me for myself. I kept my walls up.  But Mark has been taking them down, one by one, letting himself into my heart and soul, as if returning home.

And I let him.

I just need a little more time, is all, I think to myself, as I glance at him. I feel it already. I'll say it back when we go back home.

Mark turns his head to me. I'm thankful that the light from his phone isn't enough for him to see me blushing for being caught staring.

"What?" He says.

"Nothing," I bite my bottom lip and chew on it.

He stands up and takes his shirt off. I look up at him, questioningly, as he hands the shirt over to me.

"To clean up." He says.

"You're disgusting," I scrunch up my nose, but I press onto my arms to sit up and take the shirt anyway.

"I know," he laughs. "But now you know I love you, so you can't be repulsed by me."

I laugh. "Who says so?"