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 sun was already in its afterglow after having set, just as they were pulling back to Montauk harbour.
They were both happy, but exhausted. Slightly sunburnt, she didn't mind.
Milo drove them both back to the house. And after a quick shower together, Isabelle put on a simple dress and red lipstick. She let her hair dry naturally. She was glowing enough from the high of the day, she didn't need anything else.
Milo also looked effortlessly gorgeous as always. Isabelle didn't understand it, but she craved it, him. She thought it almost unfair, but she didn't care as long as she got to keep him.
The promised oysters were in a little hole-in-the-wall bar. Clearly upscale, but also chic. When they entered, they were immediately sat at the bar, and Milo - quickly scanning the wine list - ordered a bottle for the both of them.
They kept contact at al times. Knees, fingers, hands. It was like they couldn't risk being apart for anything longer than what was bearable.
They didn't need to talk much. The music and the half-empty bar conversation, their tiredness but contentment, and the high of each other's presence were conversation enough.
Isabelle felt that she was in a movie.
She was so happy they weren't in New York City right now. The greatest city on earth, yes, but also where all their acquaintances and friends and enemies circled the water like sharks. Humans were even more unpredictable than the waters that they sailed that day.
"I can't believe how much we achieved today," Isabelle said, marvelling at both his hands on top of hers, and their day. She gazed up at him.
He smiled at her and also looked at their hands.
"You're worth it," he gently whispered.
"Do you get out here a lot?" Isabelle asked quietly.
"Not as much as I should. But you make it," he gestured into the firmament, "feel all worth it."
She thought she knew what he meant.
All the superficial shit, all the effort to acquire it....and then something as simple as love comes along and you understood why you got up each day to end up in this exact moment, here.
That night they made love. Not sex, love with every fibre of their beings. She felt it enough that whatever came over her, prompted her to let him in just like that. The first time she ever truly let someone in exactly as they were. Nothing between them.
It was the first time she came with somebody else.
He whispered to her after, "Nothing's going to hurt you."
"You," she said, half asleep, "only you can hurt me."
And then they fell asleep, as close to each other as possible and still - Isabelle thought - it wasn't close enough. Nothing with him would ever be close enough.
When she told him this in the morning, he came up on top of her, and said "This is how we get close."
And they re-created last night's memories with the renewed energy of the first rays of sunlight.
