I was dressed in a mango flowy spaghetti top with my denim jacket and blue jeans. I wore my white sneakers and went downstairs. I found my mum on the couch typing methodically on her laptop.
"Joy wear your shoes outside. I just got the carpet cleaned," she said gravely, watching me from the corner of her eye as she continued typing. "You look nice. Finally, you wore that top."
"Uh yeah . . . I was saving it for a special day . . . Not that today is special---"
"I know you have a date with Logan." She removed her reading glasses and took a good glimpse of me. "If you feel---"
"If I feel uncomfortable, I will tell him," I finished her sentence. "Don't worry, I feel particularly energetic today."
She smiled kindly. "Should I drop you?"
"No, Logan's picking me up. He didn't tell me where we're going though," I replied, making my way towards the door.
"Have fun and call me after you have eaten something."
"I will." I bade her goodbye and shut the door. Before I could retrieve my phone to call Logan, he was already there, driving my grandpa's truck to the gate. "Hey, I was just going to call you!"
"On time," he said haughtily, accidentally tapping his other wrist where there was no watch. I laughed obnoxiously and he did too, his mock pride vanishing. "Come on in Joy, you look . . . beautiful."
"Thank you." I did a half curtsy, Logan was still laughing. "Can we go on my bicycle please?"
His laughter dissipated. "No-we can't. You know you'll get hurt from all the tiny bumps on the road."
"Please . . . " I widened my eyes in a ridiculous attempt to look cute and convincing.
He huffed in exasperation. "Okay, but hold me tight and tell me when you feel uneasy."
I grinned victoriously and he stationed the truck near my house before getting down.
The start of our date was a blunder. While I imagined a romantic ride to our destination, Logan had been right. My body ached and by the end of the street, I was moaning. The normally plain surface appeared uneven on the bicycle which made my stomach lurch and pain shot through my abdomen. I couldn't hold Logan tight enough. However, he didn't complain or didn't give me that 'I told you so' look. He was sweet and tolerant enough to carry me back to the truck near my home.
So we started again, Logan trying to calm my frustration from the earlier bicycle ride. Soon, I was at peace when I was greeted by the sight of the ocean. Where had Logan planned a date? I had specifically told him that I wasn't going to let him waste any money on the expensive seaside café. Then where?
"We're not going to the café," he said as if reading my mind. Then he pulled over near a local convenience store's parking lot, hopped down and grabbed my hand. We crossed the road and he led me towards the lighthouse.
"Ah I see," I murmured as we gingerly walked over the rocky path. When we were near the lighthouse, Logan scooped me up in his arms and a squeal escaped my lips. "You could have given me a warning!"
He chuckled almost to himself, holding me close to his chest.
"You weigh nothing." There was a quiver in his voice like he didn't want to believe what he had stated. As if proving his point, he held me with one arm, letting his other arm fall momentarily by his side. I quickly wrapped my arms around his neck in fear. "I will never drop you Joy."
"So stop pulling stunts like that. I don't like it," I mumbled against his shirt and he securely carried me forward.
I watched him as he delicately climbed over the rubbles and the steep stairs of the lighthouse, the musty smell enveloping us. His jaw was set firmly, his Adam's apple bobbled ever so slightly and his breathing never wavered. I touched the subtle wrinkle on his chin and his eyes flickered to me, the two puddles of ocean water never left mine until we reached the top of the stairs.
"Okay, here we go." He took a sharp breath, setting me on my feet. We were standing too close. He took a step towards the entrance and fumbled with the keys. The door creaked open slowly and I peeped over his shoulder. "I hope this is okay."
He awkwardly shuffled aside and cocked his head, beckoning me to go inside.
"This is . . . " I spun around and gave him a quick hug. "Marvellous! You didn't have to do this."
He scratched below his ear, not knowing what to do with his hands.
So I grabbed it and pulled him in. "You made all this food?"
"Your mum helped," he said hastily, not wanting to take credit of everything. But it was everything. The room was immaculate with a neat bed pushed to one corner and a coffee table with two chairs in the centre. The windows were left open with gossamer white curtains fluttering about. There were mini bulbs string lightning taped to the cream coloured porous walls on all four sides. They were dimly lit, a mild effect to the already bright room. The location was better than any expensive seaside café.
We sat by the table, taking small bites of the appetizing food. We chatted for a long while, dipping garlic bread in delicious curry and slurping milkshakes. Logan didn't protest when I didn't eat a lot, he knew that I just couldn't eat and proceeded with our conversation without a glance at the leftovers on my plate. We talked animatedly about books, movies, Rosemary's perverse manager, Shaun's time in France and Logan's dead little brother. Somehow the conversation glided without any unspoken words, it was us pouring our hearts out and feeling like two normal, healthy people in love.
We were nearly done with our meals when Logan tentatively reached for my hand. I giggled and intertwined our buttery fingers together. "Do you want to kiss me Logan? Because I really want to kiss you right now."
We both stood up within seconds, our lips catching each other's and our warm breaths mingling. He tasted of salt and sugar, his tongue sweeping across my lips wetly. I laughed, he made my laughter his by deepening the kiss, sucking the breath out of my body.
We both pulled away, gulping the salty air and stared at each other. The ferocity in his eyes was palpable and it sent chills down my body. It was a mystery how he still desired me, but it made me feel like I was valuable. That I was worthy of getting loved in this slow-burning, passionate way.
He kissed me again and again, sometimes playfully like tugging at my lips gently and kissing me softly whereas other times, surprising me with his fire as his lips moved hurriedly in a sudden want like he only wanted more and more.
Our lips were swollen by the time we stopped. We were pressed together at one empty corner of the room, Logan keeping me pinned to the wall. He had never hurt me physically, always tried to control his wandering hands. I shrugged my denim jacket off my shoulders and we both heard it fall on the floor with a light thud. The nervousness inside us echoed among the walls with the sound of the heavy fabric thumped on the floor.
I tugged at Logan's shirt and he let me unbutton it. My cheeks were hot as I shakily popped the buttons open, not meeting Logan's eyes. One, two, three . . . God damn it, how many more? Finally, the torturous task ended and I pulled his tucked shirt from his pants. He didn't assist me one bit, thoroughly amused.
He had worn a cotton undershirt and it took all my patience to not rip it off in frustration.
Logan laughed freely, his dimples on full show and noticing my vexed, ballooned up cheeks, he got rid of his undershirt in one swift, jerky motion. There he was, bare from the above and I looked closely at each plane and ridge of his body. He consciously ran his hand over his now scarlet skin and I tenderly brushed it away, leaning down and boldly peppering little kisses from his navel to his collarbone. His skin shivered under my touch and lips and I loved how it stretched in tension and calmed down eventually.
He held my shoulders in a steely grip when I started planting feathery kisses on his neck. I gently bit the flesh right below his throat. He suddenly held me at an arm's length, afraid that I would unleash his raw being nestled safely in his heart.
"Joy . . . " his voice was a strangled whisper as if he was pleading me to both stop and continue.
Our eyes locked into each other's, his vulnerable.
"Don't be embarrassed Logan, you're so handsome. I love you, all of you," I whispered back, my voice not sounding like mine anymore. It came out naturally, the confidence when I had to tell him of how perfect he was in his own awkward way.
A fierce gust of wind rustled the papery tablecloth and the next moment Logan had lifted me up in his arms and placed me on the narrow, comfy bed. I sat there trembling, my back against the wall. He nudged my legs apart with his knee and settled between them, hovering over me. His eyes turned darker under this shadowy part of the room where little to no sunlight flitted in.
Logan toyed with my spaghetti strap as his eyes bore into me seeking permission.
I only nodded, words stuck at the base of my throat. I felt the first strap on fall on my arms, then the second, his fingers tantalizing as he slowly slid them down. My breath hitched and all I could hear and feel was my pounding heart and the throbbing in my head. I fisted the sheets in my hands, feeling on edge.
Would he still find me beautiful?
Before I could chicken out, my top was completely off, revealing my plain white bra, my protruding collarbone and ribs. I heard him take a deep breath above me as his fingers grazed my skin, the chemotherapy biopsy scar on my chest below my collarbone and above the swell of my breasts. I almost cried out in agony, feeling acutely embarrassed.
It wasn't just the scar, it was me, all pale and bony. I wasn't like this not too long ago and I hated cancer for making my body look this miserable. My ribs were jutting out and my skin was ghostly white. I had average sized breasts, but that didn't make up for the rest of my body.
"I know you're thinking less of yourself right now," Logan said in a low, steady voice, lowering me so my head was resting on the pillow. He balanced his weight on his elbows. "And I . . . I don't see why, because you're exquisite."
"You really think so?" My eyes were watery, I didn't mean to look like a helpless crybaby.
"I'm thinking a hundred things at this moment, but I don't know how to tell you," he murmured and looked at me through his half lidded eyes, earning a shy blush from me before his lips were on me again.
He kissed me intensely, his hands all over my body, feeling every bare part of me. He moved downwards, his teeth scraping the top of my breasts as he played with my bra hook. My heart never ceased to race continuously as he kissed me everywhere, tiny but hot kisses all over my neck, chest and ribs. My body freezed and relaxed when he cupped my breasts in his hands and nibbled at a sweet spot on the side of my neck. These were the toe curling kisses which left one breathless but still crave for more. I had wrapped my arms around his torso and pulled him closer, trying to feel him against me.
In all the energy and rush, we suddenly heard noises which shattered our personal space. We both sat up in a daze and watched a seagull flapping it's wings at the window. It started to bark loudly and Logan and I shrieked with laughter, the heated kisses still prickling our body.
We took the plate with the breadcrumbs and watched as the bird made a fuss about it. We quietly observed it peck and eat, us still half naked from all the kissing. Soon, a flock of seagulls were at the window and Logan threw the pieces of bread outside. The golden breadcrumbs flew under the sunshine and the seagulls caught it in their beaks skillfully before it landed on the sand.