Method(52)
“We got lucky with that moon, or else we wouldn’t have been able to see shit.”
“You planned this?”
He grins at me. “Always have a plan, but this one was tricky.” He spreads the comforter, which looks ridiculous on the sand, situates the cooler and then himself on it before he pulls me down into his lap. Snugly between his legs, he rests his chin on my shoulder, and I rest my hands on his thighs.
“Are you having fun?” he asks softly.
“God, yes, this has been so incredible. Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me,” he whispers, “too impersonal. And I fucking hate that you’re leaving tomorrow.”
“Me too.”
“So stay,” he urges, pulling me tighter into him.
“You know I can’t. This is your life, not mine.”
We sit for a few quiet moments equally in awe of our surroundings. The smooth rumble of his voice sounds from behind me, but it feels so far away.
“I never thought I would see this,” he says softly. “Never. This is not something I ever thought I’d experience in my lifetime.”
“Me neither.”
The air around us is as ancient as the free-standing structures, and the silence is surprisingly peaceful.
Lucas speaks up on a whisper. “They’re smaller than I thought they would be.”
“Does that ruin it for you?”
“No,” he says. “It just goes to show what builds in the mind and surfaces in reality can be so different.”
Unsure if we’re still talking about pyramids, I glance his way and see him mystified which stuns me silent. Lucas isn’t at all what I expected. He’s not accustomed to the life he’s leading, he doesn’t demand anything from anyone. He’s full of hope and just as in awe of this new world as I am. He’s humble, appreciative, highly affectionate, giving, and there’s not much more I need to know.
A few minutes later, I’m still admiring the view when Lucas gently shifts me from his lap and starts fishing around in the cooler. As he unpacks, he unveils a small feast and a little lamp which illuminates our blanket.
“Wow, you really did think of everything.”
He takes a forkful of a dish with the provided silverware and brings it up to my mouth.
“The chef said these are the things we have to try while we’re here. He said this one you’ll love or hate.”
“That must be Molokhia.” He lowers the fork he just offered to me and reads the scribbled label on top of the container. “How in the hell did you know that?”
I shrug. “I picked it up somewhere.”
“Just picked it up,” he says, his voice full of sarcasm as he lifts the fork and I take a bite.
“This is one of the last places on my bucket list,” I say around a mouthful, “I studied up on Egypt years ago. But I’ll have to have another bite to decide about the food.”
He grins, forking another bite. “Of course you will.”
He gives me another mouthful before taking one of his own.
“Did you know Egyptians invented the three hundred sixty-five-day calendar?”
He shakes his head slowly as he feeds me another forkful.
“We have them to thank for the year mark, the measurement of life. They invented time. Such fascinating and intelligent people.”
“Yeah,” he mumbles, closing the container putting it back in the bag.
“I think I love it,” I say, “the Molokhia. Oh,” I exclaim grabbing the next container, “I bet this is Shawarma.” I read the label. “Yep, it is. This is like Egypt’s version of a Gyro. These are supposed to be fantastic.”
Lucas eyes me as he uncorks a bottle.
“And did you know wine was scarce here until the last twenty years?”
“Nope, didn’t know that either,” he says with a sigh. “Why is that?”
“Look around, not exactly the best place to grow vines.”
“Right,” he mutters, pouring me a glass.
“They brought some experts in to help the quality. I’m so excited to try it.”
He looks a little miffed as he hands it to me. “Then maybe you should try it.”
I sit up straighter and frown. “Did I say something wrong?”
His eyes dart away. I can see his aggravated expression clearly when he lies and responds with a, “No.”
“Hey,” I say leaning in. “What have I said?”
“Nothing, beauty,” he lifts his chin toward my glass. “Taste it.”
I take a sip and give him wide eyes. “Pretty good.”
His eyes glide over the shadowed peaks while more sarcasm laces his words. “And is that your expert opinion?”
“All right, dammit, that was uncalled for,” I snap. “Tell me, superstar, did you bring me out here and give me the world just to shit on it?”
His eyes snap to mine. He reads my face and curses under his breath. “No, shit, no. I’m sorry.”
“Then come out with it already. What happened in the last five minutes that made me the enemy?”
“You haven’t done anything.”
“Could’ve fooled me. Maybe we should head back to the hotel.”
He lets out a sigh and sits back on the blanket. In the next second, I’m back in his lap, and his head is again buried in the crook of my neck. He presses a gentle kiss to my shoulder before murmuring a low, “Sorry.”