World Cup Hook Up

5

Stacy's dad's voice called for her, but hidden in her alcove she ducked her head and refused to answer. The day was the same brilliant summer as yesterday, but it was also all wrong. A family of eight checked in, turning the inn's peace and quiet upside down. Three young children squealed as they chased each other on the open garden. A mother fretted, two aunts yelled advice and the men all grumbled on the sidelines, squinting at the sun. The new guests were loud and sunburned and demanding, and the dreamy spell that had settled over the island of the past few days had shattered -- poked like a bubble drifting in the way of a bored child.

She picked the dried blossoms that littered the floor of her hiding spot, dead, brown and shredded mementoes of her time with Adi. He was still here in the inn, still packing perhaps; but already the whole thing seemed like a dream. Nothing that could be real. That she could've lain in the arms of Adi Monson, or had his head on her lap -- a guy who was not only a soccer god and a fine specimen of the male species, but also an honest-to-goodness nice guy (if a little unable to reel in his impulse control issues) who seemed to genuinely like her -- was unreal: a fever dream; a hallucination that came to her in the throes of her post-World Cup disappointment. She opened her palms full of dead flowers and let the breeze carry them to the ocean.

"Tad dramatic, innit?" said a familiar voice, startling her so that she dropped the last of the blossoms with a shout.

There he stood, real after all, looking heart-stoppingly gorgeous in another pair of white shorts and a navy shirt; his aviators pushed against his hair so that his expression was bared for her to read: determined and sad and anxious all at the same time. She couldn't help herself: despite the doubts, she crossed the few steps between them and threw herself into his arms; cradling the reality of him, inhaling his scent, holding him tight as though this embrace would make it last -- would make everything better -- and he wouldn't have to say goodbye after all. He returned her hug, running his hands up and down her back, cupping her hair and burying his face against her neck.

Too soon, however, they had to part, and for a few moments they could only look at each other, each alone with the riot of their thoughts, eyes locked as they tried to read the other was thinking.

"Why didn't you come and see me?" asked Adi.

Just then the ear-splitting shriek of a toddler rent the calm morning air. Stacy jerked her head towards the sound. "That's why."

His hands trailed from her shoulders and down her arms to clasp her hands, which he brought to his face and kissed. "I'm going to miss you."

"I already do." She fought a catch in her throat.

"Thank you," he said.

"For what?"

"For listening to me. For yelling at me." They laughed. "For making me remember why I wanted all of this," he finished.

She gave his hands a squeeze. "It was my pleasure."

"Will you come wait with me until it's time to go?" he asked.

"Yes." She felt a sudden twinge in her heart.

Right before he could go up the steps, she  pulled him back. "Adi...these last two days...it was something special. For me."

"Stacy...?"

"Promise me, Adi, that you'll remember me with fondness." She kissed him quickly on the cheek. "That's all I wish."

He looked at her with eyes full of feeling, and hugged her tight, putting into the embrace all that he couldn't say.

They climbed the steps and sat in the courtyard, hands clasped together in silence. The porters came to take his luggage and tell him of the boat that waited to take him to the mainland. Just before he turned to go, he balled her fingers into a fist and kissed each knuckle.

"What's that?" she asked, puzzled; skin still tingling from where his lips touched.

"You'll know," he smiled, and then he turned to follow the porters down the path.

Stacy watched them walk down the path until they were matchstick men at the island's feet, waiting for three big waves to pass so that they could cross the causeway. She watched them scurry through the sea-slicked rocks up to the port, until the speck that had been Adi climbed into a waiting boat. Then she watched the boat pull up its anchor and sail away, a slow, stately glide that soon disappeared, fading into an inscrutable spot that bent towards the mainland.

Still she watched, until there was nothing more to see.

Her dad clapped her on the shoulder and handed her phone.  "There you are," he said. "You left this in the kitchens. Damned thing's been ringing all morning."

"Sorry, Dad." She answered the phone, walking off to a quiet corner.

"FInally!" Christine yelled. "I've been calling you since I got back!"

"'Sup, BIzzy."

"So what's your news?"

"News?"

"You know? Your message to me. 'You won't believe who just checked in omagahhh.' So who was it?"

"Oh," said Stacy. "It was no one. It thought it was someone famous; turned out it was just a lookalike."

"That's too bad," said Christina. "So when are you coming back?"

Stacy's features settled into a determined expression. "End of the month."

"Your dad gonna let you?"

"I have it figured out."

"And back to school?"

"Yeah..." Wheels spun and a plan was born from a hazy cloud of ideas in her mind. "Yeah. I think I know what to do."