I can't breathe properly as I drag Lorena down the beach, through the patch of trees, to the huge abandoned, decaying dock almost entirely submerged by the ocean. A smile splits my face as she crashes to a stop, wrapping her arms around my waist.

When I asked for tonight, I never imagined she'd say yes. Not in my wildest dreams. I have no plans at all. But seeing the dock stopped me in my tracks, and I'm stuck here staring at it, Lorena wrapped in my arms like a dream.

"What's this?" She points to the remnants of the once-vibrant dock. "Your pirate ship hiding under here?"

"My what?"

"Carla was telling tall tales earlier, I guess." She shrugs. "I just wondered why this was your favourite spot as a child."

"I was there!" I protest. "And I never said I was taking you to my favourite place. I said I was taking you to a place. I thought you would like it."

"It's... lovely," she says, refusing to meet my eyes.

She's trying really hard to not disappointed and it's a good thing she's not an actor because her disdain drips from her every word. "It's not really what we're here for. It just caught me off guard. I remember it a lot less broken."

I remember a lot of things being less broken. Things I'd long forgotten about bubbling up to the surface as if Lorena's presence has awakened them.

"That makes sense," she agrees, not taking her eyes off the posts poking out of the water where the dock used to be. "Oceans are scary."

"Why are oceans scary?" The question comes out suddenly and I let it. I'll give myself tonight. I'll let myself ask the questions I normally wouldn't.

For some reason, I trust her. I can't even describe how much I wish I could climb right into her head and understand her, but she just closes her eyes and breathes in the salty ocean breeze that blows her hair back over her shoulders.

"I don't know exactly how to describe it," she muses, long tendrils of her hair tickling at my neck when she rests her head on my shoulder. It takes every bit of restraint I have to not kiss her again right here, but I dare not move.

"I guess it's just one of those big unknown things in our life, you know? With everything we know about the world, the bottom of the ocean is like a foreign planet to us. Don't they say we know more about the surface of Mars than we do about the bottom of our own oceans?"

"I don't know, do they?" I let my hand rest on her shoulder and hold my breath. She doesn't shrug it off. The trees encircle us and it's just us, the ocean, and Lorena's explanation.

"I think so. Anyway, there's a lot going on under there and then there's just the sheer power of water. Most people look at it and see the beauty but I see the danger. It's like a big strong scary force with a pretty face of makeup, lulling us all into a false sense of security. That scares me."

"Things aren't always what they appear," I agree. "Like this wharf used to be a grand place to tie a boat once."

"Oh, I believe it. Grand place to park your boats."

"For someone so afraid of the water, you've got a very cavalier attitude toward boats."

"They keep me out of the water, so I accept their peace offering," she mumbles. "Plus, I've always liked being out on the water, as long as the vessel is large enough for me to pretend I'm not in the middle of the ocean. Actually, I think one day a nice river cruise could be fun. Never too far from shore."

A laugh falls out of me. "I can see that working well for you," I agree, pulling her in closer under my arm. "You'd probably love Europe."

"Why do you say that?"

Shit. Why do I say that? Can I tell her it's because I was imagining her coming back with me? I'm guessing I can't.

I finally settle on saying, "Ah, you just seem like the type to enjoy a good historical plaque."

And to my surprise she replies with an affirmative, "That's true."

Then she turns her face up to mine and I can't breathe. Her beautiful deep brown eyes sparkling beneath the stars and her gentle, relaxed expression pulling me in. I press a kiss to her forehead and she smiles.

"I like that."

I like that, too, but something about the way she says it reminds me we're on a public beach and not where I meant to take her.

"Come," I say, parting a line of trees with my free hand. "Let's go."

She gestures with her arm that I should lead, so I push through a few of the trees until I find what I'm looking for. A small notch in a tree, accessible as a ladder, leads up to a homemade treehouse Mr. Bodden made for us when I was here briefly as a child.

Her eyes follow mine up the tree still obviously used as a play space for local children. "Did you make this?" she asks when she finally makes out the outline of the structure.

"No. An old man who lived nearby made it for me and some local boys when I was here for training. I think I was about ten and I was only here for six months but he found the time to make it. Said he wanted me to feel welcome."

"I like that," she says. "I like when people make things with their own hands. Feels so personal when someone makes something for you."

I climb up into the treehouse and reach back down for her. Light as a feather, she's sitting beside me in no time at all. Even in the darkness, the reflection of the stars off the ocean is enough to illuminate her serene smile.

"I'm just sorry I never got to spend more time with him," I admit, joining her and leaning my back against the tree. "I wish I'd had the money to bring him to a game before he passed."

"I'm sorry," she whispers. "I bet he would have loved Europe."

"Oh, he hated a good historical plaque," I joke.

"But he clearly loved you," she says, like it's the simplest fact in the world. As thought it were a fact at all.

Mr. Bodden? I guess he cared for me, at least a little. At least as much as he cared for all the children.

The silence surrounds us like a warm blanket and I let my fingers tease at the edge of her dress cutouts, her head leaning on my chest, probably tuned to the aggressive pounding of my heart at the thought of her being right here.

My eyes threaten to flutter closed at the relaxation that flows through my muscles just doing nothing up here with her, hidden from anything that might care I'm Óscar Calderón. She's like a warm blanket I've never really experienced before. Protective in a way I never want to lose.

Her stomach rumbles, pulling me back to reality and reminding me I have more plans for her that don't include falling asleep.

"You want to go grab something to eat?"

"I do," she answers. "But I should probably get back before the girls miss me. I'm not sure where I put my phone."

"Good thing that's where we're eating." Letting her out of my arms leaves a searing cold down the entire right side of my body. But it's necessary to climb down from the treehouse. From the safety of the ground, I can watch her sit down on the edge of the platform and spin around to use the ladder.

I turn my head away. I have no idea why. It's the stupidest decision I've ever made.

"You can open your eyes," Lorena says, brushing stray sand from her hands. "But I really do need to get back to the girls."

"And we really are going to eat at the band dance."

"They were out of food." She turns to me as though trying to catch me in a lie. I can't keep the smirk off my face.

"What have you done?"

"You'll see." I take off in a semi-sprint through the trees and down the beach toward Turtle Lagoon. It's been a while since I raced anyone on the beach, though, and I quickly lose my footing, taking a nose dive into the sand and accompanying debris.

Lorena catches up to me, laughing, and then races past me. "Catch up, fútbol star, you wouldn't want to lose to a girl."

"Don't mind losing to girls," I shout after her, "But I don't want to lose to you."

She continues to race ahead, kicking up sand behind her with each step. And as I watch her relaxed race down the beach, the reality of that statement slams into my chest like a brick. Losing to her. Losing her. What all of that will mean. Losing this race is nothing compared to what happens if I lose this bet. I never want to know who won, because the thought of letting her go even a second before I have to is wholly unpleasant in a way I've never experienced before. Like someone tore a strip out of my chest.

So I pick myself up and don't even bother to brush off the sand before taking off after her. Her carefree laugh blows back with her hair and I forget what I'm even chasing until we finally arrive at the front door of Turtle Lagoon, music wafting out into the air along with the delicious smell of barbecue.

Lorena stops in her tracks and turns around to face me. "Is that?" Her thumb points over her shoulder into the busy band dance.

"Barbecue from Miss Emmeline?" I can't hide my smile at the thought of her tasting it. "It is indeed. I may have provided an advanced payment for a few more plates in order to entice her into working a little later."

"She just stayed open longer because you asked? Went out to get all new food?" Her mouth falls open and her hands frame her waist perfectly as she props them on her hips. "How nice it must be to be you."

"Does that mean you don't want the barbecue?"

"Don't be hasty," she answers. "I'm not opposed to reaping the benefits of... rich friends."

I should be sad about it, but at this point, I'll take it. And when I reach my hand out of hers, she pulls my arm around her back and rests my hand on her hip. "Let's go, fútbol star rich boy Óscar Calderón. I'm hungry."

~ * ~ * ~

Miss Emmeline's barbecue is as good as I remembered. Maybe better.

"She makes this?" Lorena marvels, sauce clinging to her lips. "She makes all this with that tiny charcoal grill over there?"

"She prepares some of it at home, but otherwise, yes. Used to do it over a fire pit when I was young. Still does sometimes when she wants to get authentic."

"This isn't authentic?" Her eyes are incredulous. "No way. This is amazing. I can taste all the little parts and they are so good."

"What you gotta do is stick it all in a tortilla."

She looks down at her overflowing plate and then back up at me, brows knit together. "There is no way I'm fitting all of that into a tortilla. Are you kidding?"

"No. Look." I use my fork to flip some of the barbecue chicken onto the soft corn tortillas, still warm at the edge of my plate. "Just stick a little of everything on. So I have the chicken and then throw some beans and coleslaw in with some chimol."

"Chimol?" She asks, following my movements a little sloppily.

"The little salsa looking thing there with tomato and sweet peppers and onion."

"Did you just call my mamá's chimol salsa?" Maria asks?

"No, I attempted to explain what chimol looked like to a Canadian girl from the mountains."

"Acceptable." She nods and puts her hands on her hips, disappearing into the crowd.

"So, now what?" Lorena interrupts, attempting to roll her tortilla like they do at Taco Bell.

"Now stop trying to be clean and just fold it in half and shove it in your face."

"What?"

I pick up my own overfull tortilla, throw some potato salad in just for fun, and flop it in half, picking it up and shoving a huge bite into my mouth, tipping the tortilla up as I do, to try to keep everything inside its haphazard fold. I don't succeed, but that's the point.

"You lost some." She points at my plate.

I've lost a lot of things tonight, including my damn mind, so I've also lost the ability to care about dropped food. "If you don't lose any, you aren't doing it right." I hold up the food in a fake cheers. "Salud."

She brings her tortilla to her lips and bites, exploding most of the ingredients out the other end.

Her bell-like laugh is joyous as she chews her gigantic bite. I cannot do anything but smile.

"Did I do it extremely right, then?" She asks once her mouth is clear.

"No. Unfortunately losing all the ingredients is also not doing it right. You gotta have balance."

"Oh." She looks down at her food, mouth screwing to the left in concentration. "Let me try again, then."

"I don't think you'll get it right on the second try." I pick up some potato salad with my fork.

"Wanna bet?" Her eyes twinkle and I'm powerless to resist.

"Terms?"

"I manage to do it right, you owe me a dance. I mess it up... you tell me." She shrugs, piling food onto a new tortilla.

"I'll take those odds."

"What are your terms?" she asks, still working to balance the ingredients across the small tortilla.

"I thought I got to tell you if you mess up."

She muses over it for a second and I can look at nothing but her as she piles the rest of her food on and folds the tortilla in half, bending it a few different ways until she finds an angle she thinks will keep the rest of the item together when she bites.

"Fine," she says. "I'm so confident I'm going to win, I'll let you pick your terms on the off chance I don't win."

"A dangerous proposition, Lorena."

"Only if I shouldn't trust you, Óscar."

"Well, in that case, just go for it," I say, putting my own food down. "Let's see what you got."

Her eyes meet mine and she opens her mouth, snapping a huge bite out of her tortilla, managing to spill out only a couple pieces of chicken and some coleslaw. She doesn't even finish chewing before she puts her food down on the plate and raises her arms in victory.

"Wow. Didn't expect that kind of success out of you. Shouldn't have placed that bet."

"Did I hear someone mention a bet?" Lorena's friend Carla has magically appeared, probably drawn to the promise of already-paid-for food.

"We were just..." I shove my hands in my pockets and risk a glance at Lorena.

"We were just leaving, I think," she says finally, grabbing my hand in her own. "If you're okay with that?"

Do not get over excited, man. Keep it together. "Yeah, fine with me."

"Don't you guys want to know who won the bet?" Carla asks between bites, looming over us as she stands to eat.

I can't look at Lorena. It takes everything in me to keep it together. I don't want to know, but maybe it's for the best. Rip the bandage off. I can take it.

"Nah," Lorena says, pushing out her chair and standing, gently pulling me with her by our attached hands. "I think I'll accept my personal assistant's help for the rest of the week. I don't need to know."

Carla glances at our hands and shoves a huge bit of chicken into her mouth. Several moans of enjoyment later, she finally swallows. "If you're sure, then it's done and dusted. I mean, I did already discard the evidence."

I'm caught up in the warm whirlwind that is Lorena and in no time at all I'm standing outside, holding her hand, pulling her into my arms as she places another kiss square on my lips. "Let's go home," she whispers, pulling me into a nearby cab. "We'll leave the bus for the others."

I don't know what made her so assertive right now, but I don't care. If she's going, I'm going, too. No questions asked. 

~ * ~ Author's Note ~ * ~

Hello! These last two chapters have been so fun and difficult to write and I just loved them so much. They're finally starting to open up and see the truth. But the next chapter (or the one after that -- I'm too much of a pantser to know for sure) is going to be harder for me to write. And I am working on fully seven stories right now, so I am not sure if the next chapter will be next Wednesday or the Wednesday that follows, but I guarantee it'll be up within two weeks. Thanks for reading along and I can't wait to hear your thoughts. 

See you in a week or two!