From Me to You [Complete]

61

While I kiss Michael, deeply enough to feel more than a little dizzy, I feel my butterfly start to soar again. My head feels a little light, and I don't respond to Michael's mouth as quickly as normally. He feels my hesitation, and pulls back from me. His eyes are on mine, seeking something.

"Are you alright?" Michael's voice is rough from lack of use and kissing for so long but the words are calm.

"Yea," I say, breathing heavily, my hands still on the back of his neck. He sees my smile, and smiles back. He pecks my lips. A small breeze whistles past us, ruffling Michael's curly hair slightly against my fingers. I take a deep breath, feeling myself coming down from a high I've never felt before. A wave crashes quietly against the shore and I realize where we are again. I suddenly have an idea.

I look into his eyes, and see him watching me. His eyebrow comes up as he sees my expression change, and I smile, although I'm still a little jealous that I can't ask questions with my eyebrows. "Michael," I say softly, running my hand down the back of his neck. I follow its path with my eyes. "I have an idea."

"Well, Amanda," Michael replies softly, "I'm only interested if it's fun." A smile settles into the side of his mouth.

"It might be," I tease back.

"Well, then. I guess I have to know what it is." I can hear the excitement in his voice, and grin at him, happy that I caused it.

"I think...we should go swimming," I say slowly, watching him. His face breaks into a smile, and I can't help but smile back.

"That does sound like fun," he says, his eyes lighting up. "I hope the water isn't too cold though."

"We'll just have to warm it up!" I say matter-of-factly with a smile. He laughs at me and carefully detaches my hands from him. He rolls off of me and stands, before reaching down to give me a hand up as well. I put a hand across my chest as I stand up, not really sure what the protocol is now that we aren't making out on the sand anymore. To cover up the gesture a little I brush the sand off of my back and shake it out of my hair. Michael starts doing the same, and then he stops suddenly.

"So wait, we don't have any bathing suits." He looks at me quizzically.

"Oh," I say, realizing he is right, and that this idea isn't really as good as I thought. I look up at him, and see something odd in his eyes. "What?" I ask, unsure about what he is thinking.

"Well... We could just... you know..." he trails off, watching me, and I blush. I force myself to breathe as my heartbeat races. My fingers are digging painfully into my armpit, and I relax my hand. I stare at Michael, neither of us really able to say anything, but both knowing what is on his mind, and what is now on my mind. My heartbeat speeds up again as I think more about it.

I take a deep breath, watching him carefully. I kick off my flip flops to free my feet, and drop my hands to my sides, uncovering my chest once more. I feel the butterfly soaring in my stomach, but this time it feels like excitement not fear. Michael is staring at me, frozen. I reach out my hand to him, placing it on his chest, which is still covered with a sweatshirt. I can feel his heartbeat, still steadier and slower than mine, confirming that this cannot be the first time he's been in a situation like this. But does it matter? Clearly he wants to do this here, with me. Maybe another girl got to be with him like this before, but right now it's me and him, and that's all he's thinking about. I slowly let my hand fall to my waist, and slide my eyes back to Michael's in the darkness. He hasn't moved, and I train my eyes on him, as I slowly pull up my shirt from its position at my hips. It slides smoothly up and over my head, and settles to the ground beside me.

As the garment stops moving, Michael's hands slowly find the bottom of his sweatshirt, and, together with his shirt, he pulls it off and tosses it neatly on top of mine. Michael kicks off his flip flops as well, as I take a deep breath before venturing downward. Eventually, I pull off my soccer shorts and throw them down on the pile of clothes, noting Michael doing the same with his shorts. We both hesitate for a second, and I can't help but feel a little nervous about the last pieces of clothing. I swallow, and reach down to pull my underwear down, as Michael does the same. The garments hit the pile at the same time, and we stand staring at each other in the moonlight.

We haven't stopped looking at each other for the entirety of the strip, but both of us are breathing heavily. I feel my eyes starting to lose focus a bit, and have to swallow again. I think if I stand here for any longer than I might lose my courage. So I take a deep breath and ask the only question that will help bring this moment down to earth again. "Race you?"

Michael's face breaks into a smile. "Yes," he says, and I hear relief and laughter in his voice. I turn from him to run down to the water, avoiding anything that looks questionable in the sand. The sand feels rough and soft all at once, and the wind brushes across my bare skin. The rebelliousness of this act makes me shiver, but when I look back I see Michael following in my wake.