Page 35 of The Last Sunrise

“How did you even find me?” I ask, wringing my soaked hair out over my shoulder into the water below.

“I have ways.” He tosses me a towel. “I know everyone. The island isn’t that big when you take out the temps.”

“Temps?”

“Temporary visitors. A nice way to say tourists.”

“Ah, so now you’re being nice to tourists?” I tease him.

“No. Just you.”

My stomach flips. The way he makes me feel is dangerous. Not for him, but for me. He seems to be so good at this. Way too good at this.

I look around his boat, to try and stop my heart from palpitating. The wooden deck shows its age in the cracks and warps; the blue seats and paint have been faded by the sun. It’s an older model; I don’t pretend to know the name or type, but it suits him perfectly. It’s cozy, feels sturdy. It’s much bigger now that I’m onit, nets and hooks and a sail, and a small staircase is in the center, leading to a door with a crooked sign hanging by a thin rope and one single nail. It readsGARCIA FAMILIAin messy handwriting. I wonder if it’s his. Just as I open my mouth to ask, he begins.

“It’s nothing fancy, but it was my dad’s when he was young, and I’ve tried to keep her together.” He looks around, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. “For the most part.”

“What’s her name? I know people always name their boats, so what’s hers?” I ask, running my hand along the back of the seats closest to me.

“She doesn’t have one. It used to, but my pare changed it. Well, I guess erased it is more like it. So I never renamed her, and I like it that way.”

“Talk about commitment issues.” I look up at him. “Poor nameless boat.”

The sun is cast behind him, creating a glow of a shadow.

Though I’m teasing him, it makes me a bit sad that this beautiful, faithful, never-resting vessel doesn’t have a name. Like a lot of people, she works so hard but doesn’t have an identity. No one to call her name in the light of day or whisper it during the fall of night.

“She doesn’t mind,” he says with certainty. “She likes not being defined. Why confine her by a title that she didn’t choose?” He raises a brow, gently stroking the net hanging on a pillar near him.

“I guess you have a little bit of a point.” I nod in agreement. “Also, how many damn crosswords do you do? Because you have a better English vocabulary than me.”

“Tons. Vast, plentiful, enormous, astronomical amounts… colossal.” He grins, and droplets of water fall down his face.

“Okay, okay!” I get it. I gently push his chest. “You’re a genius. Don’t brag. It doesn’t suit you.” I put my hand over his mouth, and a gentle prick from his teeth pinches me, making me shriek in surprise.

“And what suits me, Oriah?”

Julián’s palm is splayed open cross my bare back, pressing just enough to pull me to him but still give me a choice to back away or not.

“Do you want to have some real fun now?” he asks in a low voice. In my head, he throws me over his shoulder and takes me to whatever is behind that door and has his way with me.

My imagination runs wild, and I hope he doesn’t hear my pulse pounding under my sun-kissed skin.

“Aren’t you hungry? You didn’t touch their fancy food.”

My cheeks are burning. “How long were you watching me?”

He shrugs his shoulders, smiling like he’s holding a secret. “Long enough.”

“I knew you were a stalker the night I met you.” I lift my chin so my eyes meet his.

“I wasn’t stalking you. Then. Now I have a reason to.” The wind and waves around us seem to slow from the tension between us. I can barely breathe.

“And what’s the reason now?” I move an inch closer; one tiny movement and our lips will touch.

Kiss me!I want to scream.

“Because—” His fingers reach up and tuck my wet hair behind my ear. His mouth moves to the shell of it to whisper, “I have yet to know how you taste.”

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