What's for Breakfast?

Twenty-Six: If You Wanted Me

He snickers. "She's the one flirting with me, okay?"

"You're enjoying it," I say, finishing the remaining wine on my glass.

"What? You want me to stop talking to her?" he asks. "Just tell me to stop, and I'll do it."

"Do what you want."

He grins, also finishing his glass of wine. "I told you I want to make it up to you, remember? So, what do you want?"

I nibble my tongue, the blood in my veins rushing.

I want you to be honest with me. To take responsibility for my feelings by not running away.

"You know how, Derek," I say, voice barely audible.

There is a momentary pause. He offers a weak smile before replying, "Well, since we're already here, why don't we go for a swim?"

Derek stands up, then he clutches my hand to help me rise to my feet. "Come."

Derek runs to the water, and I watch him descend slowly, the water rippling around him.

Alright, fine. I'm here to swim anyway.

I discard my kimono, then I run, arms wide, and jump into the water. It's as cold as I've anticipated, my body freezing immediately, so I stay submerged for a few seconds until the sensation subsides.

I float in the water, the moon gleaming like a silver bullet, and I stare at it for a minute as I feel my entire body succumbing to the tranquility of the sea.

I do a few strokes back to the shore and find Derek standing still, the water below his waist, arms hanging on the sides.

Derek's hair is combed back, a few strands hanging above his eyebrows. His gaze, tender yet strong, is pinned on me as I saunter to him.

"Why are you just standing there?" I ask, narrowing my eyes.

A gust of wind sweeps by as I stop in front of him, wrapping my arms around myself to ward off the chill. "Derek?"

Derek doesn't say anything.

Instead, he raises his right hand and motions to touch me. My lips part, and the clocks stop ticking the moment his fingers land on my back, sliding them gently down my waist. They're warm—his palm on my skin. And then he draws me closer, his other hand caressing my hair. Instinctively, my hands find their way to his shoulders for support, our eyes locked in a magnetic gaze.

"Is it cold?" His voice is rough. And needing.

"It isn't now," I murmur, though I can hear my heart pounding.

The rage, the hurt, endure within me. I want to shout at him and shove him away. But I can't bring myself to do it. Not with him this close to me.

Not when he stares at me like this.

"Sam..." he mutters, his left hand now grazing my cheek.

"Hmm?"

"Do you know how beautiful you are?"

I blink twice. I try to look away, but Derek cups my chin. "Derek—"

"Can I kiss you?"

He moves closer to me, our lips merely an inch away. I stop breathing, his orbs searching deep into my soul making me gasp.

"Say yes."

I exhale, then with my voice shaking, I reply, "Yes."

He pulls me closer, our lips finally meeting in a collision of pent-up emotions, and my eyes widen in surprise.