“Not at all. I love it,” he replied.
He pulled the bottoms up her legs next, tightening the ties on either side of her hips. He turned her around and tugged on the back, letting the fabric nestle deeper into her crack.
“Mark!”
He swatted her hands away, then turned her around so that she could see herself from behind in the mirror.
“Now why wouldn’t you wanna show that off?” he asked.
“This looks like lingerie!” she squealed.
“And?”
She shrugged. Secretly she liked it, but she didn’t think she had the guts to wear it in public.
“Go climb on that bed,” Mark ordered. “I have a surprise for you.”
“Oh?”
“Mmhmm.”
She obeyed, lying on her back and staring at the ceiling. He walked over to her and pulled her to the edge of the bed.
“I’m gonna make you come right through these bikini bottoms,” he said, kneeling in front of her.
“You don’t wanna take them off?” she suggested. She wanted his mouth directly on her.
He shook his head. “Not yet anyway. I’m gonna make you come like this, and then I’ll take these bottoms off and make you come all over again.”
“They’ll hear,” Cadence whispered.
“So what?”
She wondered if she really cared.
“I’ll try to be quiet.”
“Please don’t,” Mark replied, licking up the crotch of her bathing suit.
She moaned. “Okay. I won’t.”
The following evening, all four sat on the tiny deck overlooking the ocean. Avery nursed a mild sunburn. Dylan strummed his guitar. Mark and Cadence cuddled on a chaise lounge.
“I wish I could cuddle,” Avery groaned.
“Well, I told you to reapply your sunscreen,” Cadence said.
She was wise to spend most of her time under the umbrella. She did, however, take a stroll down the beach with Avery, showing off her fringe bikini and half her ass. She blamed it on the orgasm Mark gave her the previous day—the one where his lips didn’t even come into direct contact with her secret flesh. That orgasm changed her whole perspective. It said, “You’re young. Embrace it while you can.”
“So I can look like a ghost like you?” Avery asked.
Cadence giggled. “Because looking like a tomato is soooo much better than looking like a ghost.”
“Whatever,” Avery said. She slapped her arm when a mosquito landed on her. “Motherfucker!!”
“There’s bug spray,” Mark said.
Avery huffed and took another swig of her beer.
“You want me to sing you a song, baby?” Dylan asked. “Would that make you feel better?”
“No. I’m just gonna get drunk. That’ll erase the pain.”
“Oh my God, Avery. You act like you have a first-degree burn or something. You’re pink. That’s it,” Cadence said.
“Shut up, ho. It freaking hurts.”
“I’ll sing you a song,” Dylan decided. He strummed the opening measures of a familiar Dave Matthews song: “Crash Into Me.” Overplayed on the radio, but Dylan’s version sounded brand new, and it made all four fall in love with the melody all over again.
“You sing, Cadence,” Mark said. “Your voice is so pretty.”
“It’s too low,” she replied.
“I can fix that,” Dylan said. He pulled out his kapo and attached it to the guitar neck. He strummed the same measures. They were higher this time. “Better?”
Cadence nodded. She sat up and gave him a few more bars—a few more seconds to show off his skills for Avery before she took over. Before she outshined him.
It wasn’t the Sunday hymn she used to sing for a packed church. It wasn’t a song for spiritual renewal, but it was a spiritual song. And it was healing. She sang about the connection between two lovers, crashing together in heated, physical passion. The need for another human being. Skin on skin. That fusion of minds and hearts. The need for constant love—dirty, wrecked, beautiful, painful, imperfect, essential.
Love.
Better than hope. Better than faith.
The greatest thing.
Mark walked into the classroom and tossed his messenger bag on the front desk. He searched for a dry erase marker in the drawers until he came across a green one. Green—his favorite color. Well, maybe this class wouldn’t be so bad after all. It was Applied Algebra, a freshmen requirement. He didn’t mind the freshmen too much. They actually provided a reprieve in his busy schedule. The material was easy to teach, but he just enjoyed how ridiculous freshmen were. Generally flighty. Usually lost. Sometimes tardy. He cut them some slack because he knew they didn’t know what the hell they were doing. He experienced it once—a long time ago—with his own little lost freshman.