Page 43 of The Last Sunrise

Yes please. The seagulls are speaking in Spanish and I need a translator

On my way

As promised, he shows up within ten minutes. I shield my eyes from the sun as I watch him approach; his confidence radiates brighter than the sun. I missed him, I realize, I missed him with a deep ache in my chest, and it’s been less than twelve hours since I was with him.

“I missed you,” he tells me, as if he read my mind.

He leans down to meet my eyes, his palm scooping around my chin to lift it.

“Your eyes are different again? One’s lighter?” He tilts my head a little, inspecting me.

“Shit. My contacts. I usually wear brown contacts so they both match, but I forgot this morning. I keep forgetting lately. I’ve been distracted.” I’ve been more than a little distracted by the constant thoughts of Julián since I first laid eyes on him.

“Why do you hide them? I noticed before at the cabana when we were drinking, but I didn’t want to just ask you.”

“It’s not that I’m hiding them… I mean, I guess I am. But it gives me anxiety to have people making eye contact with me, commenting, drawing unwanted attention over something I have no control over. Sounds like such a silly thing to complain about, but it really started bothering me.”

He nods his head slowly. “I get it, really. I do.

“Is the light one blue or green?” he asks, peering closer.

I can’t tell if he’s teasing me since he’s near enough to see the color up close, but his tone feels genuine.

“What do you mean? It’s green. I get it, it’s weird to look at. I was teased my entire childhood over it, so I started wearing contacts when I was in middle school.”

“Not weird. I just wish I could see it clearly. I have trouble with separating blue and green, yellow and red, mostly.”

“You’re color-blind?” I ask, not sure why I’m so surprised by this.

He nods. “Yeah, always have been.” He shrugs and leans in a little closer. “You should stop hiding your beautiful eyes.” I close them as he plants a kiss on the lid of each one.

I’m tempted to ask him more about his color-blindness, curious how the ocean looks to him, how I look to him, but I know how it feels when someone is probing you over something you can’t control and I’m the last person who would intentionally want to make someone feel like a lab rat, like something about them is wrong or broken.

“I missed you, too, by the way,” I say instead.

He smiles, pleased to hear it. “You did?”

I nod. “Mhmm.”

“The seagulls said otherwise,” he teases.

“Did they, now?”

He nods, pointing at them. “They flew to my place to tell me you’re out here in a tiny bikini flirting with some guy.” He gestures toward the man and leans in to kiss my chin, then my lips.

My jaw untenses, falling open, and I pull him by his T-shirt to kiss me again. His mouth is welcoming, somehow already familiar to me. I sink into the chair, every muscle and inch of my skin melting around my bones, softening my entire body.

He moves his mouth to my forehead, gently placing a kiss there.

“I don’t want to get too carried away and wake up our friend there.” He motions toward the sleeping man again.

“Those seagulls have been gossiping since I came out here. I don’t know how he’s slept through it,” I tell him as he sits down on the lounge chair next to mine.

“Ah.” He pauses, watching the birds in the sky. “Really?” He pretends to speak with them, and it’s so effortlessly funny as he taps his chin, a fake look of concern on his face.

“Oh no. They are worried about me,” he whispers, tilting his head to continue the bit. I laugh but feign paranoia.

“Really? Why?” I whisper back, cupping my mouth.

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