When up-and-coming model Isabelle meets talented but jaded photographer Milo, sparks fly despite their age difference. Their romance becomes the talk of the New York City fashion scene, fueling rumors and speculation about their scandalous affair. A...
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The boat finally pulled into the bay, and it was as if someone was already waiting for them.
A water valet, if you will.
"Hey, Milo," a nice black man came up to them both and shook hands with Milo, nodding politely to Isabelle.
"Hey Trevor," Milo replied warmly, "this is Isabelle, my guest," Milo winked at her.
Trevor nodded and helped them get the stuff out of the boat, then went into the boat to anchor it.
They found a spot that was partly shaded, partly in the sun.
As if by magic, or good customer service, the two chairs were already waiting for them.
With towels and bottles of water nearby, Isabelle dropped her bag on the sand. She couldn't believe she was on a remote island, where yesterday -just yesterday- she was in New York City, never having known that something like this even existed.
She felt she was at a faraway land. Neverland?
She never wanted this to end.
"Wait," she spoke to Milo as he walked past her to start setting up the towels on the chair. He paused mid-action and looked back at her. "I want to capture this moment," she said bravely. Forever, she kept to herself.
She kneeled down to her bag, rummaging through the hunt il she found the polaroid camera.
Milos's quizzical look turned to a crinkled smile around his eyes. "Well," he said, "now look who's the photographer."
He turned towards her, crossing his arms. It was evident he was more comfortable behind the camera than in front, and she pondered at how the camera was a type of defence mechanism.
She first took a picture of him, wanting on purpose to catch him off guard, to get him as candid as he could be. As gorgeous as he was.
Then she sat it on autopilot, placing it on the chair beside theirs, careful not to get sand in the lens.
She ran over to him, they had 10 seconds. She wrapped her arms around his neck and thought to herself that this was it. These 10 seconds she could stay in them for an eternity.
But they ended too, like everything.
And they spent the rest of that day, lounging, drinking, reading. Each in their own world, but together.
At one point, Isabelle got tired of her book, seeing the prospect of a fantastical world pointless when she had this in her real world.
She came over and nudged in beside Milo on his chair.
He put his arm around her, kissing her on the forehead, but he kept reading.
She nuzzled her face in his neck.
She knew what she was feeling. .She knew it from the very beginning.
She also knew that the only danger of a beautiful beginning was the often inevitable end. But she didn't want to think about that.
She let out a big sigh.
Milo put his book on his chest and tried to catch Isabelle's gaze.
"Isabelle," he said, but she knew she'd never get used to the sound of her name in his mouth, "what are you thinking about?" He asked her, but she still kept her face nuzzled in him.
She couldn't believe it, but she felt that she might cry, and she did not really want him to see her like that. And yet, she knew that she could be vulnerable with him. She had a hard time trusting anyone, but they got this far didn't they?
Still, she did her best to control herself.
She finally said, "I just don't want this to end." Then she looked up at him, even if she knew she was giving herself away.
In his eyes, she saw him reflecting on something, he held her gaze, then looked out into the sea. The water, even though it was too cold to swim in, was still somehow making his eyes bluer. Like two pools of the Mediterranean.
"What if we tried looking at the end of this trip," Milo began carefully, "as not the end, but a beginning. To something larger." He looked back at her, and she could feel that pull starting between them.
She felt the tears pull back, and instead a smile slowly creeping on her face.
"I'd like that," she said.
"Me too," and with that his lips met hers once more.
