Dear Aaron(89)

I finished putting sunscreen on my face when Aaron rolled up to his knees on his own towel, his body facing mine. He didn’t move for a second, and I didn’t want to look at his face to see what he was focused on, until finally he said, “You missed a spot.”

When his thumb went to the shell of my ear, smoothing sunblock on it before swiping down to rub at my earlobe, moving the small star-shaped studs there, I let him. I shouldn’t have, but I did. Keeping my gaze on the center of my chest so he couldn’t see the struggle going on inside of me was harder than I’d ever imagined, especially when he did the same thing to my other ear, and I had to hold in my breath to keep from panting.

He was touching my ears for freaking sakes. If I didn’t know how sad my experiences with men were, I would have been more surprised at how pathetic I felt getting excited at him touching my earlobes of all things. Lame.

I swallowed and waited until Aaron moved his hand to the center of my face, his thumb swiping across my chin slowly before pulling back and saying, “There.”

All I could do was manage to grind out a “thank you” that sounded like I was out of breath.

Aaron got to his feet and I did the same, rubbing some more cream under the seam of the bathing suit on my bottom. I was doing that when Aaron’s shirt fluttered to the sand. He was shirtless. It shouldn’t have been a big deal, because how many times had I seen a shirtless guy? A thousand? Thank you, Internet. I could be calm. Be cool.

I made sure not to suddenly look up and ogle him or make him self-conscious as I kept rubbing sunblock into my skin. When it had been long enough, and I couldn’t think of anything else to stall with, I let out a breath and had a smile already on my face when I raised my eyes all casual and friendly. Standing under the sun, the difference between the almost bronze color on his face, neck, and arms, and the lighter, slightly tan shade on his chest, legs, and feet, was pretty apparent. I would never call it a farmer’s tan though. There was no hint of red or pink on his skin, like my mom or Tali would get if they were under the sun for too long. No matter how much those two tried, they never got tan. They were either white or red, there was no in-between.

Aaron was not one of those people. He was light gold and he was gold, there was no hiding it. But the main thing that there was no hiding from was that body under the three different shades of his skin tone.

Stick a needle in me, I was done.

I saw the rest of my life in that split second.

There was never going to be getting over Aaron. Ever. I was going to die alone. I accepted that as I gave up trying to be sneaky, taking in the way he was built. He wasn’t big and bulky, or barrel-chested in any way. Aaron was slightly thicker than a swimmer but had their physique, all abs and shoulders and long biceps. He was perfect. Absolutely perfect. That saying about God breaking the mold when they made someone had been written with Aaron’s birth in mind. Each muscle looked like it had been chiseled, each bone perfectly sculpted. Even his nipples were perfect. How? How?

How was I supposed to look at this for nearly an entire week and know he was just my freaking friend?

The answer was: I had no idea how that was supposed to happen. I really didn’t. I’d lied to myself and tried to convince myself it was possible, but it wasn’t, was it?

I swallowed and looked away, reminding myself not to be that person. I could do this. I could survive this week. I had to.

“Ready?” he asked, making me glance back at him, but that time, keeping my gaze on his face.

There was a knot in my throat as I nodded. “Yeah. But if you want to go ahead of me and hang out with your friends, it’s fine. I don’t mean to take up all your time.” His mouth did that turn thing. “I can be alone.”

His Adam’s apple bobbed. “Ru,” he said in that calm way. “I’d rather hang out with you.” And then, as if that body on display hadn’t been enough to remind me of how shitty of an idea coming here had been, he went on to add, “You don’t have to be alone.”

If my smile was tight and said “you’re killing me,” it didn’t reflect on his face. All I could do was make a sound in my throat that could have meant anything.

We were wordless as we made our way forward. The stretch of beach to the right and left was packed with people, but not so many that it felt crowded. Mostly, it was family after family in groups of every size, with kids running, sand castles in the process of being built, and cooler after scattered cooler.

The water was warmer than I expected when I stepped into it. “Drag your feet through the sand, so you don’t accidentally step on a stingray,” Aaron warned over his shoulder.

A stingray? In the water? That I could step on?

I’d been too busy trying not to stare at the smooth expanse of Aaron’s back and his small waist with two tiny dimples settled right at the base; I hadn’t really thought about anything swimming around in the water around us. I’d been to the Caribbean three times in the past with my family on vacation, and my mom, who wasn’t a fan of snorkeling, had always booked us at hotels with crystal clear water nowhere close to reefs. I’d never been snorkeling before. The water here was pretty darn clear, but…

It was fine. No big deal. There were probably hundreds of families just on the few miles of beach stretch by here. What were the chances that—

I shrieked.

I could be woman enough to admit that I shouted at the top of my lungs the second something brushed my leg in the water.