Madeline’s walking alongside me along the beach, and I feel the electricity from her—even in her denim shorts and T-shirt—but she’s seemingly ignoring me, looking straight forward. I feel like a friend, like an acquaintance.

“Are you sure you can get us out there?” Her question is charged with apprehension but also mild interest.

I’m scrolling through a website on my phone, filling out forms and giving my credit card info and tapping a button that says Confirm.

“As of a split second ago, we’re officially reserved for twelve-thirty.”

I hear Madeline’s platform sandals stop short in the sand, and I stop along with her. We turn to each other. Madeline’s eyes have that same piercing emerald as always, but there’s a soft, innocent happiness to them right now.

“For real? Don’t bullshit me.”

My phone vibrates noisily. I peek at the screen then give her a cocky grin.

“There’s the confirmation text. We can get in some once-in-a-lifetime views before lunch.”

Madeline raises her arm up in the air, and the scent of roses and vanilla mingles with the salty sea air when she does. I’m not sure what’s going on, though. Madeline has her hand raised like a teacher’s pet who knows the answer and desperately needs to share it, but the look on her face—eyes wide, lips in a subtle duck-like pout—strikes a perfect balance of goofy sexiness.

That’s a phrase I never thought I’d fucking say.

I’m sure Madeline can see my confusion, but she stays with her hand up, her goofy-sexy face unrelenting, until I finally fucking figure it out. I raise my hand to give Madeline a high-five, and as our palms slap, Madeline grabs my hand and interlocks her fingers with mine, pushing my hand and my entire arm so it rotates down toward the sand, and we’re holding hands like normal.

Watching Madeline’s goofy-sexy expression transform into a sassy, frisky grin as her hand grips mine sends exhilaration racing through me. Fuck, this girl and what she does to me. I don’t even fucking get it.

“Let’s do this shit,” I say, pulling her closer to me as we walk. I shoot her a grin, but she just keeps looking forward, toward the ocean, the same smile on those lips I’m suddenly dying to kiss again.

I don’t know how long it takes us to walk to Lahaina Harbor. It could be ten minutes, or fifteen, or maybe even a half hour, but it feels like a fraction of a second, and it also feels timeless as Madeline and I take in the beach, the aroma of salty ocean air, the gorgeous coloratura-soprano melodies of indigenous birds, and the distant sound of waves and tranquil conversation, our hands locked and our comfort reaching the point where we can enjoy our surroundings and take each other in without having to fill every fucking second with needless words.

We keep walking north, leaving the fantasy world of the beach and the resort and entering another fantasy world of actual roads, houses, businesses, and natural vegetation that hasn’t been landscaped and engineered to death for tourist consumption.

“How do you know where we’re going?” Madeline keeps looking straight ahead after asking the question, as if she knows where we’re going.

I can tell from her persistent grin and her lively tone that she doesn’t really care how I know; she knows we’ll end up there.

“I wouldn’t be showing you around if I didn’t know this island like the back of my hand.”

Madeline reaches over with her free hand, leaning over with just the right blend of recklessness and grace, and she grabs my other hand as we walk.

We’re now facing each other, walking slowly. Madeline’s face is full of mirth.

“Oh, you’re showing me around. Is that what you think is happening?”

“If you know the way to the slip, or anywhere else, by all means show me. I’ll follow you.”

Madeline’s stumbling intentionally, dragging us both toward the poorly paved ground and bouncing back up.

“I don’t know how to get places, is what you’re saying? My sense of direction sucks?”

I’m not usually the tripping, stammering type myself, making it a point to carry myself with confidence, to move with purpose and pay attention to what the fuck I’m doing. When she intentionally falters and moves in random directions like this, it puts my own sturdy, dependable swagger to shame.

“It doesn’t matter,” I respond, pulling her in closer. “If you wanna lead, I’ll follow you. I don’t care where the fuck we’re going.”

Madeline stops and takes a step closer to me, then another, and then a final step so our bodies are pressing against each other lightly, and then we meld into a starved, all-consuming kiss under the North Pacific midday sun.

From that point on, Madeline stays in front, pulling me in the right direction, not missing a fucking step until we get to the pier.

It’s not like parasailing’s on my usual agenda for this honeymoon, or any vacation for that matter, but when I get my first glimpse of those waiting speedboats and several rainbow-striped parachutes already soaring hundreds of feet above the ocean and traveling toward the horizon, I feel like a little kid getting his first in-person glimpse of Disneyland.

I can’t see her face as she strides in front of me, but I don’t doubt that Madeline’s electric excitement is sending a strong current back in my direction as she grips my arm.

Madeline she spins around to face me.

“Here we are, ye of little faith. I know how to get places.” Her voice rings through the mild cacophony of the pier and the boat engines starting up.

“I told you I’d follow you anywhere.”

“But you didn’t know we’d end up here.”

We fall into another kiss, shorter but just as fucking hot. Her mouth is sweet and soft, and love the way she tastes. Fuck, I could do this all day. Fuck the parasailing. Let’s just stay right here.

But then she’s pulling me toward the pier again.

I get my phone out as we walk toward the slip to double-check the confirmation and get the text message ready in case they need to see it.

“Who are you texting?” Madeline asks, no longer clutching my arm.

“Getting the confirmation ready, just in case.”

She raises her eyebrows and smirks. “Okay, if you’re that worried about it. Nerd.”

That magical mirth fills Madeline’s face again, and I’m pretty sure she’s purposefully reminding me of the countless measures of beauty surrounding me just outside my little smartphone screen.

I take that lesson fucking seriously, and the next few minutes become a haze as I focus on the surreal majesty of the Pacific in the background and the smoldering hotness of Madeline so close to me in the foreground.

Speaking with the boat dispatcher, listening to the little safety speech, getting prepped and boarded by the staff who have this down to a quick science—it’s all a blur in the background as I watch Madeline’s complete joy and anticipation.

She’s not in her own world, though; she’s giving me long, secret looks that make me feel like I’ve got my own personal Haleakala Volcano inside me that’s about to fucking erupt.

When the speedboat pilot is boarding and we’re getting ready to fly, I give Madeline a similar look, wanting her to feel that same magma-level heat. But now, she’s just fixated on the ocean and the sky, and she looks so fucking adorable in her orange lifejacket.

She turns to me, vibrantly beaming and looking genuinely fucking thrilled to be where she is at this very moment.

“Are you worried about getting wet, Ethan? With your phone and all? Wanna check your email one last time?” she teases

I didn’t think I could love Madeline’s smile any fucking more than I already do, but seeing the teasing edginess sparkle around her face makes it so much fucking better.

“What about your phone? Is the Great Madeline too much of a free spirit to care?”

“Oh,” she drops her voice to this low, reverberating pitch that goes straight to my cock, “I’m not worried about getting wet.”

I chuckle and shake my head. This woman.

When we start gliding away from the pier and zipping across the sparkling blue ocean surface, we don’t actually get wet. We’re strapped into a tandem harness, and the transition from sailing straight ahead to rising through the clear, clean air is smooth and natural.

Even the breeze whisking against us is peaceful, and the views of the Maui coastline and mountains are unreal, like some gorgeous fever dream.

The view gets even better when I turn to Madeline, especially since she’s already staring at me in delight.

“Didn’t even get wet,” I observe to her while we swing gently in the harness.

“Good, you need your phone,” she pokes back at me, her eyes full of warmth.

“You’re right. I should check it now.”

Madeline chuckles while I reach into my pocket and retrieve my ever-present smartphone. I look at it for a second, pretend to poke at the screen like I’m doing something important, and then proceed to chuck it into the fucking Pacific.

I turn slowly back to Madeline. Her eyes are wide with glee, and for the first time, I hear her abandon herself to full-on cracking up, her melodic laughter easily filling the sky around us as the pilot picks up speed and we start drifting up further.

I’m kind of pissed about this when it makes Madeline turn away from me and watch the view as we rise, but when she thrusts her hands into the air and belts out an exhilarated scream, her excitement is super fucking contagious.

It feels like only a few more seconds before we start to descend.

As much as I’d like to float above the Pacific with Madeline all day after an unexpected parasailing stint, I can’t fucking wait to see what happens next.

Letting the flow of the day take over, I don’t ask Madeline to stay with me after we get back to dry land and start walking back toward the resort. Even if this is all the time we get together, it’s taken my mind off things and made this sad honeymoon experiment much better than I could have ever imagined.

But I’m not gonna lie, I’m thrilled when Madeline doesn’t make a beeline back to her room the minute we get back to the beach and walk by the hotel. She walks with me, even though I’m doing little more than wandering.

“Are you gonna get a new phone now?” she asks as we pass the beach bar.

“Eh, I’d probably have to go to another island for that. Right now, I don’t fucking care.”

I really fucking don’t. And let me tell you, that’s pretty fucking crazy for me. I’m walking on the wild side now.

We leave the bar and the hotel behind as we continue down the sandy shoreline.

“You don’t need it for work? Or to get back home?” This is the most sincere I’ve seen Madeline yet.

“If my coworkers knew I didn’t have a phone right now, they’d be freaking the fuck out, which is a good reason that I’m in no hurry to get a new one.”

“Coworkers, eh? So we’re narrowing it down...”

“Oh, finance, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Ha! Of course. What else would you do?”

I look at Madeline’s face in profile, framed by the sand and the ocean behind it. I can see the warmth and kindness in her smile.

“You have me all figured out. I don’t doubt it. What do you do? Probably something much less predictable.”

Madeline lets the question hang for a moment, walking silently with the same contended smile.

“Grad school. That’s all for now. I’ll make those big career choices when the time comes.”

I don’t press. I just enjoy the waning afternoon and the chance to wander with Madeline.