It was a goddamn party town.

  Motor boats and catamarans of all shapes and sizes were anchored all around the white sands, along with a handful of kayaks and jet skis. Music blared from loudspeakers. On one side a group of college-looking kids had erected a floating volleyball net in the knee-high water and were tossing the ball to each other over the net. Other people milled around, chatting, dancing, and holding touristy umbrella drinks.

  “Over there,” Taylor shouted, pointing to one of the larger tour boats where the music was blasting from. A shirtless young man in a blue cap was grilling on the deck, the smell of sausages and burgers wafting through the breeze and sending my stomach growling, reminding me I hadn’t eaten anything.

  “I’m starving,” I told Taylor. “You think we can bum a sandwich off him? I didn’t bring any cash though.”

  “I know that guy, no worries.”

  We paddled to the boat and Taylor called out.

  “Eh, Kimo!”

  “Tay-Tay!” Kimo said, waving his hat at us. “I’m glad you made it!”

  “Permission to come aboard, captain.”

  “Sheez, Tay-Tay, come on up!”

  We maneuvered ourselves behind the boat. After Taylor had secured the kayak to the stern, we jumped in the water and waded around to the steps that lead up, my skin crawling the entire time.

  “Whassup, Tay!” Kimo said once we made it to the deck.

  “Kimo, I want you to meet my friend, uh, my dad’s friend, Miles.”

  “Hey, Kimo.”

  “How’s it going, brah,” Kimo said, giving me the local handshake.

  “Kimo and I go way back. My friends and I used to hang out at his dad’s shave ice store, called Kimo’s Shaved Ice, when we were growing up. Remember those days, Kimo?”

  “Fo sure, Tay-Tay.”

  “So you’re dad’s name is also Kimo?” I asked.

  “No ways,” he said. “My father’s name is Kalani.”

  “So he named his store after you?”

  “We think his dad wanted him to inherit the store eventually,” Taylor said. “So he was planning ahead when he named it after Kimo, but he didn’t consider that Kimo never wanted the job. By the time he realized his mistake, it was too late to change the name, as everyone on the island knows the place only as Kimo’s Shaved Ice. So Kimo, can we bum some food and drinks?”

  “No need even ask, Tay. Grab whatever you like. The good kind beer is in the red cooler. The blue one only has the pissy, watery kind.”

  Taylor handed me a couple of plastic picnic plates. I loaded them up with burgers and sausages while she grabbed a couple of Kona Longboard lagers.

  “Thanks, Kimo!” Taylor said.

  “Anytime, Tay. Later, Miles!”

  We made our way toward the back, past the handful of tourists who had chosen not to get in the water. Finding a corner cushioned seat next to the twin Yamaha outboard motors, we sat down and ate our late lunch. The burgers on sweet roll buns were delicious, and the ice cold beer made for a perfect pairing.

  Sitting there on the gently rocking boat, with the Hawaiian sun beating down on us and a cool island breeze countering the afternoon heat, I realized this has got to be the most perfect day of my life. I so wanted to kiss and ravage the two-piece beauty sitting next to me, but contented myself to simply enjoy the feel of her bare leg pressed against mine.

  I could get used to this.

  “What?” Taylor said, giving me a nudge with her shoulder.

  “Huh?”

  “You look deep in thought.”

  “Just enjoying the moment,” I said.

  “That’s it?”

  There was something else lodged in my mind, and took a couple of seconds for me to remember what it was.

  “How do you think your dad will react if he finds out about us?”

  “I think he’ll come around.” She sipped her beer and stared out at the water. “Is there an us, Miles?”

  There it was, the question I had been asking myself for some time now.

  Is there an us?

  I knew the answer, of course, and I had already committed to taking the next, bold step. I just wasn’t sure if this was the right place for me to say anything.

  “Never mind, forget it,” Taylor said, misinterpreting my pause and getting up abruptly. I caught a single tear trailing down her cheek before she turned her head away, the sight of it cutting a deep, painful wound in my heart.

  “Taylor, wait,” I said, making an attempt to grab her, but she sidestepped me easily. She threw her plate and bottle in the black trash bag knotted to the railing and in a single fluid motion she dove overboard, landing in the water with barely a splash.

  Goddammit, Miles, I cursed as I discarded my half-eaten food and beer. You sure screwed this one up good.

  I looked out and found her swimming away from the boat, her powerful strokes quickly propelling her beyond the sandbar, into the deep ocean.

  Shit, she’s fast.

  I jumped, landing feet first into the water, and waded painfully slow toward the kayak. I untied it and managed to hop on without tipping it. Pointing the kayak in Taylor’s direction, I set out after her, paddling the tiny craft with everything I’ve got.

  12

  SHARK

  Taylor

  How could I have been so stupid?

  I was afraid to pop the question, but I had to know. It killed me to keep wondering what would happen to us, what his plan was for us.

  Now I knew the answer.

  There is no us.

  Miles didn’t have to spell it out for me. His hesitation alone told me exactly what I needed to know. I got it, and I wanted to get as far away from him as possible. I dived into the water and immediately started swimming away from the boat, and away from the relative safety of the sandbar. I knew there was no way I could swim all the way to the shore. I was a good swimmer, but I wasn’t that good. But I didn’t care.

  Drowning seemed like a perfectly acceptable release from the pain in my chest.

  I felt the temperature change from warm to cold as soon as I crossed over from the sandbar and into the deep, dark ocean water, but I didn’t pause. I kept going, lengthening the distance between myself and the boat.

  And Miles.

  It wasn’t until I heard a splash that I stopped swimming. Treading the choppy waves, I looked around me, remembering Miles’ comment earlier about hearing a similar splash when were paddling.

  I couldn’t see anything and didn’t hear any more splashes, so I started swimming again, hoping it was a turtle or some of the small flying fish I had seen from time to time while kayaking.

  It’s just a turtle, I repeated to myself. Just a turtle.

  To be safe, I limited the splashes I was making, knowing how sharks were attracted to them. I had gone another fifty yards or so when a perfectly shaped dorsal fin popped out of the water about twenty feet in front of me, causing my blood to run cold.

  Oh, shit.

  Out of nowhere the words of the old fortune teller came back to me:

  Beware of the shark!

  I stopped all movement and watched the fin move to my left, the panic in me threatening to take over. The instinct to bolt and swim as fast as I could was strong, and it took an incredible amount of willpower for me to not listen to it, knowing there was no way I could out swim the silent predator.

  Maybe it’s not after me, I thought. My surfer friends had encountered sharks dozens of times. Most of the time they were pretty harmless, unless you happen to get unlucky and come across a tiger or great white.

  Then you’re fucked.

  The fin continued cutting through the water, moving in a fairly large circle around me, but the fact that it was circling was definitely not a good sign.

  You’re so stupid, Taylor! What were you thinking?!

  I looked back in the direction of the sandbar, hoping someone there was witnessing what was going on, but they were too far. Even if I screamed I would never be heard above the music blasting from Kimo’s speakers. Then I saw it in the distance - a flash of orange in the water, moving toward me.

  The kayak!

  “Miles!” I shouted, waving my hand. “Miles, help!”

  “Hang on, babe!” Miles called.

  He was getting near and paddling like a madman, but the shark had tightened its circle, and I had the sinking feeling he wasn’t going to reach me in time.

  My worst fear came true. The shark stopped its circling and started moving straight toward me.

  Shit, here it comes.

  “I love you, Miles,” I said, bunching my hands into fists, the tears streaming down my face. I wasn’t going to get myself eaten without putting up a fight.

  Just then the unthinkable happened. Miles stood up on the kayak and jumped. Once in the water, he started thrashing like crazy, generating an incredible amount of splash.

  “Over here, you stupid son of a bitch!” Miles screamed. “I’m over here!”

  The shark kept coming. I raised my hand in the air, ready to punch it, but the shark swam past me. I got a glimpse of its long, gray body as it slid by within a foot of me, and then it picked up speed.

  It was heading straight for Miles.

  “Miles, no!”

  Miles stopped splashing and climbed back onto the kayak.

  Or tried to.

  I knew what was going to happen before it happened. Miles had put his entire weight on one side of the kayak and attempted to lift himself up. The kayak pitched and capsized, throwing him back in the water.

  “Miles!”

  I watched in mounting horror as Miles struggled to flip the kayak back, losing precious time as the torpedo-shaped predator closed the distance quickly.

  He’s not going to make it in time, I thought with dreaded certainty.

  Miles seemed to have come to the same conclusion. In the last few seconds before the shark attacked, he gave up on righting the boat. Reaching for the wooden oar floating next to him, he raised it briefly and rammed it down. A tremendous splash of water erupted. I caught glimpses of a powerful tail thrashing.

  “Miles!” I screamed, pushing off and swimming in his direction as fast as I could. The churning water stilled, and at first there was no sign of either Miles or the shark. Only the overturned kayak. Then Miles burst out of the water, gasping and clutching a heavily mauled paddle.

  “Miles, oh my god, Miles!” I said when I reached him. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine,” he said, squeezing my hand briefly while we treaded water. “Quick, help me with this before it comes back.”

  We righted the kayak and he steadied it while I climbed in, then he handed me the paddle and carefully pulled himself in.

  “Are you okay, babe?” Miles said, hugging me tight and looking me over, concern written all over his face.

  “Yeah, thanks,” I said, giving him a big kiss. “You saved me, Miles. You saved my life. That was extremely brave of you.”

  “I was just being selfish,” he said with a sly grin. “There was no way I was going to let anyone, or anything, have a piece of you. I need you all to myself.”

  “I could have lost you today,” I said, caressing his face. “You know that, right?”

  “Nah. The shark never had a chance.”

  “Yeah, right.”

  “But we better head home before it comes back with a few of its friends.”

  I nodded. “Where’s the other paddle?”

  “Shit, it must have fallen out.”

  We scanned the surface around us, but we could not locate it.

  “That’s okay,” Miles said. “How about you navigate while I paddle?”

  “I can do that.”

  We started moving toward the shore, but with only one paddle the going was slow.

  “Want me to take over?” I said, turning my head.

  “I got this.”

  I watched his shirtless chest and arms ripple in the sunlight, thoroughly enjoying the view.

  “Aren’t you supposed to be navigating?”

  “You’re going in the right direction.”

  “So you’re just going to stare at me the whole time? You’ll get a cramp in your neck.”

  “You’re right,” I said, getting up to a crouch and causing the kayak to shake unsteadily.

  “Whoa, babe, easy. I don’t know about you, but I’ve had enough excitement for one day.”

  “Relax.” I slowly turned, placed one leg over my seat, then the other, and sat back down, facing him.

  “There, much better.”

  Miles smiled and nodded. “Fuck yeah,” he said, his eyes roaming all over me.

  I giggled, feeling a new heat come over me that had nothing to do with the sun. A wild idea had slipped into my mind, and once in, the thought would not let go.

  Miles laughed, completely at ease now that the traumatic incident was behind us.

  “What?”

  “You have that look on you,” he said.

  “What look?”

  Miles continued smiling. I kicked his leg lightly. “What look are you talking about?”

  “The kind you get whenever you want to be a naughty girl.”

  “Really? I have a look? I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said, tossing my hair back and rubbing my neck. “I’m just relaxing.”

  “I see.”

  I closed my eyes and moved my right hand toward the swell of my left breast, squeezing it through my bikini top while my left hand dropped down between my open legs. I started rubbing myself slowly, my fingers moving in sync with the gentle rocking motion of the kayak, the gentle trade winds swirling around me, caressing my skin even as the warmth of the sun mingled with the rising temperature inside of me.

  I was thoroughly enjoying myself, and I didn’t realize Miles had stopped paddling until I opened my eyes and looked at him. The hunger I saw in his gaze caused a slight shiver to run up and down my body.

  “Show me your boobs,” he ordered.

  The way he said it, with full authority and zero negotiation, hit me in a very erotic way I never thought was possible. I pulled the cups of my bikini down, first the left, then the right, my breasts hanging out in the open.

  “Squeeze that one,” he said, nodding toward my left breast.

  I placed my hand under and gave it a good squeeze.

  “No, don’t let go. Keep squeezing it.”

  I smiled at him while I complied. He didn’t smile back.

  “Pinch your nipple with your other hand.”

  “Like this?”

  “Harder.”

  I pressed hard, the sensitive nerves in my nipple firing up.

  “Pull on it. I want that nipple stretched out as far as it can go.”

  I pulled, seeing my dark areola stretch. Pain flared, but mixed with it was an intensely pleasurable sensation. A small moan escaped my open lips.

  “Good girl. Now do the same with your other breast,” he said, watching me intently, stroking himself through his trunks. I had a strong impulse to pull those shorts down and put him in my mouth, but his strict eyes held me in place.

  “Open your legs wide. Now move your bikini to the side and show me your pussy.”

  I slid down a bit, placed my feet on either side of the kayak, and pulled the fabric to the right, exposing myself to him.

  “Beautiful,” he nodded in approval. “Now take them off.”

  “Here?”

  The barest hint of a smile crossed his face, and then it was gone, my tormentor back in full command.

  “Fine, Miles, I’ll play your ridiculous game.” I glanced around, but there were no other boats in sight. The shore was nothing but a small strip of white in the distance.

  We were alone.

  I was about to pull my bikini bottom down when Miles held up a hand.

  “Wait. Before you remove them, I want you to imagine you’re dancing to some chill music. Imagine a guitar strumming a sensual beat, and drums accompanying the guitar. Find the tune. Listen to the music. Let it sink into you, become a part of you. Can you hear it? Can you feel it?”

  I remembered a time once, when I was invited to a beach party held by a friend of a friend. They were all older than me, all were in their third or fourth year of college. They had a campfire going, and someone had brought a pair of portable bookshelf speakers that they hooked up to this beautiful Latina woman’s playlist on her phone.

  Everyone was sitting and chatting around the fire, but when this one song came on the Latina chick got up and started dancing by herself, if you could call it a dance. She moved in tune with this sensual, hypnotic Latin instrumental music composed mainly of guitars and drums, but her feet were planted firmly on one spot in the sand. She had long brown legs, a short, tight skirt, and a black bikini top, and she worked that perfect body in slow, micro-gyration movements, almost as if she were just standing still, but we could see her hips move ever so slightly from side to side while her hands kept traveling from her waist to her hair and back to her waist.

  It was an absolutely erotic moment, and every single guy around that campfire stared at her with drool dripping out of their open mouths. Even the women, including myself, were mesmerized.

  Miles’ instruction reminded me of that moment. I never found out what that particular track was, but it didn’t matter. The music, and the girl’s dance, was already forever burned in my mind. Simulating a dance while seated in a narrow kayak was extremely challenging, but I tried my best.

  I started by bobbing my head, letting the internal music permeate through me. My shoulders followed, swaying left, right, right, left in slow movements, my breasts bouncing freely with each movement, the rest of my body following along. Then I engaged my hips, rotating them ever so slowly, gyrating, grinding, moving. Keeping my eyes locked on him, I let my hands roam between my breasts and hips before letting them settle down, my thumbs twirling around the garter of my bikini, but I just kept them there, teasing Miles, watching his eyes grow, noting how his tongue briefly ran across his upper lip while his swim trunks swelled.

  “Take it off now.”

  I shook my head while still dancing, letting him know who was really in charge here. I imagined the music moving to a new level, and I reacted similarly, my movements getting bolder, the gyrations deeper, the sensual moves turning sexual, explicit.