Macy
This almost feels like part of the tour.
You know, if the tour lasted twenty hours and included an overnight stopover on a tiny uninhabited island with barely any provisions—except just the right amount of pocket rum.
Aaron stoically steers the boat toward the coast of St. Maarten, and it looks like he not only easily found the island, but we’re also headed toward the departure point of the tour—which, even more than before, makes this all feel like a regular, planned part of the tour.
Don’t get me wrong—I’m positive this was all unplanned.
Neither of us thought to try and fix the boat yesterday. Both of us felt compelled to bring snacks and rum with us beforehand.
Maybe, somehow, we both knew that last night’s island excursion was supposed to happen. But we were definitely both just along for the ride, so to speak.
Was Aaron wearing those aviator shades yesterday? My mind’s a goddamn blank about that, but they’re perfect right now, framing his cool, expressionless face as he motors the boat toward the pier.
I almost want to comment on them—we’re at the point where I might feel comfortable just paying him a simple fucking compliment—but the engine’s too loud for conversation, and I’m staring at him, which should be flattering enough.
Even for his conceited ass.
Seriously, though, there’s more going on with Aaron than I realized. I can’t define all of it yet, but there are some depths there, as I discovered last night.
Of course, I ended up discovering some depths to myself as well.
The boat travels smoothly to the pier, decelerating steadily until we dock in between two of the other speedboats. I think it’s the exact spot the boat was in yesterday.
I can’t dwell on this too much, mostly because I don’t want to get too impressed. But Aaron didn’t even break a fucking sweat getting us from being marooned to back on the resort grounds in what couldn’t have been longer than twenty minutes.
Aaron looks off into the distance for a moment and just slightly skywards, amusedly smiling.
“I need to ask, Aaron…is there something up there I should know about?”
Now fully on the dock, Aaron smiles while offering his arm to help me off.
“Just the sun, Mace. That thing comes in handy a lot—and there are times when I really appreciate it.”
I don’t know if that clarified anything.
“That thing?” I ask as I grab Aaron’s arm and climb back into civilization. “You mean the sun?”
Aaron lets his full, booming laugh out into the quiet of the early morning.
“The very same.”
As we walk toward the beach together, the air’s swimming with distinct aromas: saltwater, sand, subtle yet unmistakable hints of palm trees, oleander, and vetiver.
How did I not notice any of these scents yesterday, or on the beach here before now?
“The sun? Really?”
We walk away from the sea and make a left turn toward the hotel.
“Great natural light and navigation—that’s all I want in a star. And I’m sure it does other shit, too.”
The scents of the sea and nearby plants are now mingling with the traces of Aaron’s usual fragrance. In the morning quiet, the sounds of gentle waves and birds greeting the dawn take precedence.
“It does all kinds of things, good and bad,” I respond to Aaron. “It brings people to the tropics.”
That’s what I decide to say, instead of quietly letting the ambiance wash over me.
I’m not even sure what I mean by it. I thought I was saying that I’m glad I’m here, but judging by Aaron’s silence, it maybe wasn’t clear.
So, I let nature’s soundtrack take over, and so does Aaron. I don’t look at him, but I can feel his warmth near me as we walk together.
The sky’s turning a gorgeous vivid shade of blue, like somebody’s slowly turning up a dimmer switch or gradually adjusting the tone and contrast, fine-tuning as perfection draws nearer and nearer.
It’s quite a show, but I know it means that the quiet of dawn’s ending, and life’s about to begin again.
Spring breakers, honeymooners, and wealthy families from all over the world are about to take over the landscape and the soundscape.
Obviously, it’s still nothing like Manhattan, though the early morning can be surprisingly serene there, too—especially in a spot that’s on the water, like Battery Park or the Seaport. Sometimes you can hear your own footsteps, and a few seagulls, and nothing else.
But there, just like here, the world has to begin eventually. In New York, it’ll be the sound of a delivery truck stopping and idling nearby that’ll break the spell.
And, speak of the devil, the sonic splendor of St. Maarten’s now being destroyed by something that sounds like a truck nearby. There’s a road running parallel to where we’re walking on the beach, and the vehicle’s getting closer, loud and irritating, and finally passes us on its way to the hotel.
I can see that it’s not a truck but a shuttle like the one I took from the airport.
And so the day begins.
And Aaron’s being silent.
I would’ve welcomed that a couple of days ago, but now I feel like we were just starting to get into it.
Into talking to each other, learning how to enjoy each other.
Even before I lost my virginity to him.
A stiff breeze whips us as we walk—one that I’m not dressed for.
And holy fuck, that was something. Actually having sex, I mean.
Without a word, without looking at each other, we both turn toward the road at the same time.
As another, longer, breeze blasts by us, I get a horrible inkling of suspicion.
Fortunately, it’s gone with the breeze when I realize that earlier this morning, well after we did the deed last night, Aaron was as happy to talk to me as ever.
I can’t even assume he’s freezing on me now, either, just because we stopped talking for a couple of minutes. Being tired is probably part of it, at least for me, and that’s probably also the reason I’m overanxious and starting to read into everything.
I don’t think I’m in a state to figure out much right now, so worrying’s not going to help.
Another shuttle passes by, and the hotel’s visible.
Shower first, then sleep, then I’ll figure it out from there.
As I feel some of my nervous energy drain away, I turn my head to finally look at Aaron.
And he’s looking at me already and smiling. There’s some wistfulness there, like his smile after docking the boat.
Seeing him smile at me at all fills me with a sense of warmth and a sense of relief. Which is a lot of power I’ve given him, emotionally.
And that’s something else I need to think about later.