The shore we looked out over that day, I still remember it now
Words engraved on the sand, your silhouette
The waves, coming and going against my feet, washing everything away
In the evening's calmness, only the twilight passes through
"Ugh." You stare at yourself in the mirror, shifting from side to side. "Remind me again, why did I let you pick out a swimsuit for me?"
Having never been airborne before, you'd white-knuckled it all the way from Tokyo to Okinawa. You sat in first-class next to Gojo, who, as it turned out, had some interesting ideas about how to pass the time at fifty thousand feet.
Let's just say that flying was a lot more tolerable when you had distractions.
You tug at the bandeau top of the bright blue swimsuit Gojo had so thoughtfully picked up in the lobby shop, then try in vain, to rearrange the fit of the bottom.
As if he's been conjured, he appears behind you, looking sexy and yummy in a pair of black board shorts. His arms come around you from behind, and he presses his lips to your shoulder. "You look amazing. I want to peel this off you with my teeth."
"Do it." Why go to the beach? Getou's there. Amanai's safe. Surely you won't be missed.
"I would, but Suguru'll send up a search party if we take too long," His gaze meets yours in the mirror. "But later –"
His voice trails off suggestively.
With a resigned sigh, you lean back against him, abruptly reminded that this isn't a vacation, even if it seems that way. You feel the mantle of responsibility fall back hard onto your shoulders once more. Gojo sets his chin on the crown of your head.
"Splash me and die." You say, which works well in lightening the mood.
"Wouldn't dream of it!"
Okinawa is paradise. The air is warm, moist, and fragrant – like the steam left behind after a hot shower. The sand is snowy powder in between your toes, and the water feels as hot as a bath. Your feet are bare, and gleam under the honeycomb foam that edges each oncoming wave.
After telling everyone else to have fun, you park yourself down onto a shaded deckchair, pull out a tawdry romance novel, and immerse yourself in the pages. You intend to spend the rest of the afternoon alternating between reading and napping, hobbies you enjoy but seldom have the time for. Seeing as how Gojo is currently occupied with chasing Amanai around the beach with a squirming sea cucumber, you hope that he won't have time to annoy you.
Wrong.
Having a handful of water dumped on your head has you spluttering and flailing.
Midway through a Frisbee game with Kuroi, Amanai collapses onto the sand, holding her ribs and laughing, as though your distressed squawks are the most amusing thing in the world to her. Turning your head, you see Getou grinning at you from where he lies on a beach towel a few feet away.
"Satoru, you asshole!"
Cackling madly, standing thigh deep in the water, Gojo beckons you over with a smile and a taunting wiggle of his fingers. His hair is damp and slicked back from his face. Oversized aviator sunglasses shield his eyes from the sun. It's so on. You know that you're being baited, but still, you plunge into the surf after him, and plaster your body against his. You wrap your legs around his waist, your mouth reluctantly tugging into a smile when Gojo pulls you into a heated kiss.
"Isn't about time to go?"
"Nope."
"What?"
"Weren't you paying attention, [ NAME ]? We're staying for one more day!"
"What?"
Then, with a wicked grin, Gojo twists in a way that sends the both of you tumbling into the water. You scream, salt rushing into your mouth as you're unceremoniously tossed into the warm arms of the ocean. You come up for a great gasp of air, Gojo's laughter echoing in your ears as you try to run back onto the beach.
He catches you by the waist and takes you down, absorbing the fall onto the sand on his back. You scream out a loud peal of laughter, your sleek and cool body kicking and thrashing futilely against his own.
Turning, he pins you down. His hair hangs around his face, dripping water onto yours. Breathless, you can only stick your tongue out at him.
"The things I'd do to you if we didn't have an audience." He tells you.
"We're dating. You can kiss me."
Looking up, you see all eyes on you. You can honestly care less about what kind of spectacle you're currently making. Gojo's body pressed against yours feels delicious and the lingering taste of him is intoxicating. Your thoughts scatter.
Your hands briefly lift Gojo's sunglasses so that you can look into his eyes, the languorous blue of the waters around you. Happiness . . . Desire. The shadows ringing his eyes worry you, and it must show on your face, because Gojo slips his sunglasses back into place, and seals his mouth over yours.
"We're really staying?" You ask, dizzy by the time he pulls away.
"For one more day." Gojo confirms again, bending to kiss you again before you can fully catch your breath.
