I'd like to say that I was looking at her eyes, but my glance spent more time darting down to her cleavage than anywhere near her face. We were looking at each other, anyway, when Tim walked up. He leaned in toward my ear so that I could hear him above(more) the music in the bar.
"We're leaving." He glanced at the girl. "The bus leaves at six in the morning," he said. "Be on it."
"Six. Right. Got it."
"Me too," I insisted. "I'll be back at the hotel by sunrise."
My mind was alcohol-slick and the whole conversation might have slipped away were it not for that phrase. "By sunrise". I'd remember that.
My group left. Tomorrow we would continue the tour, moving on to Sevilla. But I had tonight, and I had Granada, and I had this beautiful girl across from me. We left the bar.
I had been in Granada for two days and could barely navigate the streets sober; in my current state I depended on her. We had both had too much to drink, but she knew exactly where to go. I followed her unpredictable turns and alleyways until we arrived to a small plaza on top of a hill. Most of the city lay below.
It was beautiful, with the stars above and the lights of the streets stretched out below. It was far more beautiful than the drunken fumble we attempted on the public bench, but we really couldn't tell. Eventually her head was on my shoulder and she was snoring evenly.
'I'll close my eyes,' I remember thinking. 'Just for a moment.'
By sunrise I was alone, hungover, and decidedly not on a bus to Sevilla.(less)
It had become a Sunday tradition. Every weekend for the past 3 years, My uncle and I had woken up at the crack of dawn, grabbed our boards, and driven the short trip down to the beach to surf. Even in the summer, where the days are long and(more) the sun rises early, we still managed to get to our favorite surfing spot before the sun had started rising. Looking out onto the ocean, you could see the sun barely peaking over the seemingly endless expanse of the Atlantic.
We grabbed our boards from the back of his pickup, and sprinted towards the water as if it was the only thing we knew how to do. We swam out a ways to catch the best waves, and eventually I found a "perfect" wave. I paddled as fast as I could and caught the wave just right. Standing up, I could hear myself whooping, and my uncle shouting words of encouragement. In the middle of my surf, the sun finally peaked out just enough to shine a little bit of light on the beach. The rays caught at the crest of my wave, and I felt alive beyond belief.
You have not lived until you have surfed the sunset.(less)
"I need to leave," she whispers, the first rays of sun creeping across the horizon into the small bedroom that has become like a home to her.
He stirs, mumbling that she never stays long enough for him to see her in the morning light. Long enough t(more)o see her sleeping in the liquid gold that dances across his bed.
She looks at him, and all the whispered exchanges while their bodies are joined, the way he runs his hands through his hair when he is thinking, the little wrinkles around the corners of his mouth when he smiles, how he fiddles with his watch prompt her to lean down and press her lips to his shoulder blade.
"I love you."
The forbidden words that lifted a burden from her heart hung in the air, waiting to be blown like smoke or embraced as a welcome, long-awaited friend. Tiny sprites danced in her stomach while the silence stretched.
"I know. I love you too."
Her smile made that glorious morning light seem dull, and it was like hearing that her parents were truly proud of her for the first time. By the time the sun fully rose, she would be infused with its light, her proof of love's existence.(less)