“Like I said, I was content. Purposed. But not happy.”
“So, you surf. It makes me wonder what else I don’t know about you.”
“Plenty, I’m sure, but I’m hoping we’ll give ourselves the time to learn about one another. Now that we know we’re close and can see each other,” I said.
I searched her eyes, waiting for an answer as she lifted her coffee to her lips.
“I think I would like that,” Chanel said. “You can start by talking about this surfing school you want to open.”
“The premise is simple. I advertise surfing lessons and build up a network. I can teach group classes on the water and on the beachside as well as offer services for private lessons. I could set hours and give free demonstrations to build a rapport with the community. Things like that,” I said.
“So, you’ve really given this some thought.”
“A little. And I do know how businesses work, and I know what you need to succeed in them.”
“Do you have some business degree tucked away somewhere I don’t know about?” she asked.
“The military paid for my education, yes, one of the perks of serving, and I figured I was an idiot to throw away a free education. I didn’t know what I wanted to major in, and my advisor suggested business until I figured it out. Turns out, I’m not that bad at it.”
Chanel giggled and shook her head, looking at me like I was a completely different person.
“What?” I asked.
“Nothing,” she said with a giggle. “You’re just so different.”
“I’m still the same Rhett.”
“No, you’re not. You’re grown. You have plans, not impulses, which is different from last night because last night felt so …”
“Familiar?” I asked.
“Yeah. Familiar.”
I got up from the table and came around to her chair. I scooped her into my arms and kissed her, robbing the breath from her lungs. She caved into me, her body sliding farther into my grip as her hands grasped the fabric of my clothing. Her lips tasted like bacon and coffee, and I could feel my need for her rising.
“As much as I would love to strike up this party again, I have to work,” Chanel said.
“I figured you would at some point,” I said.
“But, if you wanted to come over to my place later, I wouldn’t mind. I think I would enjoy seeing you after a long day of staring mindlessly at my computer screen.”
“The life of a writer,” I said with a grin. “I might just do that after I run some errands. This place needs groceries, and I’m out of toilet paper.”
“Oh, dear. That’s no good. You need toilet paper.”
“No one wants to get caught without toilet paper.”
“Well, I’ll text you my address, and if you want to come by later, I’ll be around,” she said.
“I’m looking forward to it.”
I cleaned up from breakfast as Chanel went back to get changed. She emerged in her clothes from last night, my shirt discarded on the floor somewhere. I could see her fiddling with her keychain and a sense of dread welled in my chest. She looked like she wanted to say something, make some sort of declaration but was too scared.
But when she walked toward me and pressed a key into the palm of my hand, she looked up at me and smiled.
“A key to my place. For when you get done with those errands later,” she said. “It’s my spare key. You can use it anytime.”
Then, she rose to her toes, placed a kiss on my cheek, and started for the door. I followed her mesmerizing body, watching as she turned around at my front door. She smiled at me one last time before she left, and I grasped her spare key tightly in the palm of my hand.