The Song

Part Fifty-Five

“Ok,” I smiled, slipping out of Aston’s grip and leaning up on my elbow, “Gonna give me a hint?”

“Nope, just get dressed and we’ll go.”

“Fine!”

I jumped out of bed and went to my half of the wardrobe, pulling out a loose vest top and some shorts. I went into the bathroom to pull them on, adding a touch of make up and running a brush through my hair so I didn’t look quite so homeless.

“Ok, ready,” I said to Aston. He was sitting in the kitchen with his phone, and as soon as I came out he jumped off the stool he was on and slipped his shoes on.

“Let’s go,” he said, opening the front door.

I followed him out into the heat, grabbing his hand as we walked down the outdoor staircase and around the pool to the sidewalk.

Aston led me down the street towards the beach, turning a corner right before we got to the beach walk. “Here,” he said, pulling a door open for me.

We were met by a hostess who already had our names, and then led up some stairs, a rooftop terrace overlooking the beach walk with tables our final destination.

“This is fab,” I said, pulling down my sunglasses over my eyes.

“It’ll get better as the sun sets,” Asotn said.

“How romantic,” I giggled.

He flashed me a cheeky wink, taking a menu from a waiter as water was poured out for us. I looked out at the water again, the sun starting to droop lower and lower in the sky.

“What’s good here?” I asked Aston.

“Fish tacos.”

“Fish tacos?” I asked, pulling a face.

“Don’t knock it till you try it,” he said, “You like them.”

“Are you tricking me again?” I teased.

“No…” Aston said, holding his hands up in the air in defense, “I promise!”

“I’m ordering something else if I don’t like them,” I said, scanning the menu again.

“Just try them!”

We ordered huge margaritas, chips and salsa, and the fish tacos. It really wasn’t the kind of food I would have gone for, but then again it wasn’t really something you’d find in London. This was authentic local food.

As the food arrived the sun started to dip below the horizon, bathing us in beautiful reds, oranges, and pinks.

“This is so perfect,” I sighed, putting my sunglasses on the top of my head as the light grew dimmer.

“It’s a pretty special view,” Aston said.

“We’ve been here before haven’t we?” I asked.

“It’s sort of our LA place,” Aston said, “You wrote a song about being up here.”

“’Sunset No. Four’?!”

“Yeah,” he said, “I mean, it’s obviously inspired by the view, but you got the idea when we were up here. You practically dragged me home so you could start playing out ideas.”

“Interesting…” I mused, trying my tacos. They were surprisingly good, even though on paper they sounded like something I’d totally hate. In fact, I devoured them pretty quickly.

“Wanna go down to the beach?” Aston asked as we settled up our bill. It was an impossibly warm night, and there was a flurry of activity going on down by the beach walk.