We’re almost at my place when she stops to root through her purse. The rectangle of light from her phone illuminates her features and steals my breath. God, she’s so beautiful.
She turns on a slow ballad I’ve heard on the radio countless times but can’t place. Top 40 isn’t really my thing. I’m more of a classic rock kind of guy. But I’ll listen to whatever crap she likes if it means I can spend more time with her.
“Let’s dance,” she suggests.
She shrugs. “I’ve always wanted to dance on the beach.”
Apparently, Drunk Antonia is spontaneous and fun.
We’ve reached my backyard and I set her stuff on the deck before taking her into my arms and bringing her close. “Your wish is my command.”
Muscle memory kicks in and my body quickly remembers how much it likes having Antonia glued to it. We’re more swaying than dancing with her head on my chest and her hands curiously exploring my back.
She smells like a delicious mix of honey and strawberries that makes me feel as intoxicated as she is.
When she tilts her chin to look at me, something inside me unravels. “Kiss me.”