“I just … wanted to see you,” she said in a small voice.
“You see me, Misch.”
He yanked her into the elevator, then hit the floor for the lobby. She stared at him in awe, like they were meeting again after a long time apart. He didn't say anything, didn't even touch her, until the doors opened back up. Then he grabbed her hand and pulled her out of the elevator. Out of the hotel. Down the street.
She wasn't sure what was going on, but she went with it. He was walking so quickly, she almost had to run to keep up. They zipped down side streets, hurried down stairs, raced across squares. The farther they got, the more she started hearing things. Music and people, voices and laughing. When the smell of food hit her, she realized he was taking her to the festival. A second later, they came out of an alley and were right in the thick of everything.
“What are we doing?” Mischa laughed, ducking as a man carrying a huge bunch of balloons pushed past her.
“Having fun,” Tal said back, leading her down the street at a more sedate pace.
She knew what he was really doing – it was a distraction. An interference, so they wouldn't have to acknowledge what was really going on. They didn't talk about their situation, about why they couldn't stay away from each other, or why they also couldn't be together, because those words that could break them were still floating in the air. So she followed where he led, traveled in his wake, basked in his presence.
They played games and ordered food, acted like teenagers. He won her a large stuffed tiger, which she turned around and gave to a little girl who had been crying. He got an ice cream cone for her, then held it for her while she licked at it as they walked. They told jokes and laughed and talked. And talked and talked and talked. They didn't touch each other, and they didn't ask any questions. But they talked.
“What a good time!” Misch called out, skipping ahead of him onto a beach. There were a couple groups of people hanging out, a couple fire pits roaring. Tal headed in the opposite direction of them, towards a rocky, craggy end of the beach.
“Yeah, I thought you'd like it,” he chuckled, shoving his hands deep into his pockets.
“The hotel told me there would be booths and parades and stuff, but I was just gonna hang out in my room,” Misch told him, walking in his shadow.
“How lame. I bet you're glad I showed up,” he teased.
It was too close to truth speaking.
They gingerly climbed their way over rocks and discovered a small patch of sand between outcroppings of stone. A mini-beach, as it were. Misch hopped down and ran right into the water. Stood ankle deep and wiggled her feet into the sand.
“Heaven,” she whispered, clasping her hands together on top of her head.
“You're welcome!”
She smirked over her shoulder at Tal before going back to the ocean. It was a clear night and the moon was strong, giving them a lot of light. And on top of that, light was filtering in from the town, so it wasn't completely dark. But the water was inky black as it lapped at her feet. As she stared into it, her thoughts sank down into the depths. It had been a fun night, but what about tomorrow?
Detox is a bitch …
“Tal,” she said his name. Wanted to say it all the time.
“Hmmm?”
“Come stand with me.”
“No thank you.”
“Excuse me!?” Mischa was shocked and turned to look at him. He was standing far enough back that the water wasn't touching him.
“I don't want to get wet,” he explained. She was surprised.
“Seriously? Tal, do you not know how to swim?” she laughed at him. He scowled.
“Of course I can fucking swim. Like a fish. But I don't feel like swimming right now,” he told her.
“Why?”
“I'm wearing clothes, for one.”
“Little miss priss afraid to get her clothing wet?” Misch teased him. He rolled his eyes.
“I've had enough of your sass, lady,” he warned her, but his voice was teasing as well.
“Oooohhh, what're you gonna do about it? Nothing, not while I'm out here and you're over there!” she taunted.
“Don't push me.”
“I can't believe you're actually afraid to get messy!” she laughed at him.
“Shut up.”
“Scaredy cat. Miss priss,” she continued teasing him.
“Someone wants a spanking,” he threatened.
“Oh, please.”
“I'm not kidding.”
“Well, then I better make it worth it,” she said, bending over and reaching her hands into the water, into the sand at her feet.
“Whatever you're thinking, don't,” Tal's voice was actually serious.
“Don't what, Mr. Canaan?” she asked in an innocent voice as she held up huge handfuls of wet sand.
“Don't do it.”
“Oh, I think I have to do it.”
“Don't.”
“Can't stop now.”
“Seriously, Mischa.”
“Oh, I'm deadly serious.”
“If you throw that, I'll -,”
Tal didn't finish, as a double fistful of sand hit him smack in the chest. Misch shrieked, laughing as he looked down at himself. When he looked back up, he was glaring. She kept snorting and laughing and waded backwards, farther into the ocean.
“I couldn't help myself!” she called out to him.