A moment of silence passes between us. I can’t stop staring at her. “Oh, and I’m happy to give you pointers for your event,” she says, “but I won’t take your money.”
Shaking my head, I say, “Forget I even said anything about that. You’re not here to work, remember—I was just getting desperate. I would’ve said just about anything to make you stay.”
She chuckles.
Finally I decide to let go of all my hesitations and all of the uncertainties and just be myself for a change.
And it’s liberating.
I reach out and take Sienna’s hand in mine—my heart leaps when it touches her hand—and I start to walk with her across the beach.
“So where to first?” she asks.
“To jump off some cliffs,” I say with a grin.
Her hand tightens within mine, but I get the feeling it’s not because she’s trying to keep up—I think maybe jumping off cliffs wasn’t what she had in mind.
Sienna
I think my heart just dropped down into my stomach—between his brazen decision to take my hand and him saying the words jump and cliffs in the same sentence, I was done for.
We stop at my hotel for a few things first, mainly my black canvas bag and my digital camera. Then Luke and I catch a bus to head out to a place about twenty-five minutes away.
It finally feels like a vacation. It feels real and exciting and liberating. I’m snapping photos out the window and even inside the bus of whatever looks interesting, nearly the entire ride. I can’t remember the last time I felt this free, or even if I ever really have. I feel like most of my life since college has been about work and securing the best possible job and future. And I think I lost myself somewhere amid all that.
“You weren’t kidding,” Luke says, sitting next to me, his thigh pressing against mine. “I think you’ve taken a hundred shots since we left the parking lot.” He chuckles.
I snap another one and then look over at him.
“These are what I call just-in-case shots,” I explain. “Not a lot of thought put into them, but I take as many as I can of anything and everything just in case I end up with something good.”
I snap another one.
“Kind of like how some of the best photos of people are the unplanned ones?” he says.
“Exactly!” I turn the lens on him, snapping a few unplanned photographs. He doesn’t seem to mind at all and even crosses his eyes for one.
I laugh and snap one more before opening my canvas bag.
“But this isn’t what I usually shoot with,” I say before putting the camera away inside the bag and zipping it up.
“I was going to ask about that,” he says, his hazel eyes slanted with curiosity. “I thought all the ‘serious’ photographers”—he makes air quotations with his fingers—“had huge cameras with fancy lenses and all that extra stuff. Like that one you were sneaking photos of me with on the beach yesterday.” He grins.
I can feel myself blush hard. “Hey, it wasn’t like that!”
Bumping his knee against mine he says, “I know.”
Conscious of the tiny gap between our legs on the seat, I glance down at his knee, glad to see that he hasn’t moved it away. I smile to myself, thinking about it, and fold my arms down on top of my bag on my lap. “Well, I don’t know about all the other ‘serious’ photographers out there”—I make air quotations with my fingers, too—“but I do have bigger cameras—like the one you saw—and my fair share of gear.”
“Why didn’t you bring any of that?”
“Well, you said we’re going to jump off cliffs.” I shrug. “Didn’t think bringing my expensive gear with me would be very safe.”
“Oh, so you’re going to jump?” His grin just got bigger.
“No!” I answer right away, shaking my head for added effect. “I don’t do heights, much less plunging to my death from them.”
Luke throws his head back and laughs.
“The cliffs aren’t that high,” he says.
“I don’t care.” I wave both hands in front of me. “I’m afraid of heights more than anything, and there is nothing in this world that could make me jump off a cliff.”
“But you don’t even know how high it is.” He chuckles and crosses his arms over his chest.
“It’s a cliff,” I stress, “not a rock or a bucket or a poolside diving board—cliffs are called cliffs for a reason.”
Still laughing lightly, he gives up because he knows he really can’t argue with that.
“Well, how did you get to Hawaii, then?” He raises a brow. “Please tell me you didn’t take a ship all the way over here.”
“No. I flew,” I say. “But anytime I fly, it’s always a traumatizing experience.”
“Seriously?” He seems genuinely surprised.
I’ll never understand how people who aren’t afraid to fly can’t understand how frightening it is for people like me. Sometimes I feel like saying—
“Hey! Don’t give me that how-can-you-be-afraid-to-fly crap.” I say it anyway because I’m on vacation and I can be myself! “It’s terrifying. You may not be afraid, but—”
He puts up both hands, surrendering.
“No, I understand,” he says, always with a smile. “I used to be like you, believe it or not.”
“You were afraid of heights?” I do find it hard to believe, though I’m not sure why.