One Summer Isn't Enough (Summer, #4)

CONRAD

When I open my eyes, the first thing I see are Belly's big brown eyes. She kissed me awake, because even though I won't admit it, she knows that it's my absolute favorite way to be woken up.

"Rise and shine, sleepyhead." She gives me another quick peck on the lips and I respond with a lazy smile, playing with the ends of her hair with my left hand.

Swatting my hand away, she unlocks the car door and hops out, heading towards the trunk of the Jeep to get our luggage out of the trunk. I rub my eyes awake before getting out of the car too. The first thing I notice is how beautiful the stars are tonight. I was always a nerd as I was growing up, with the geekiest obsessions. So naturally, astronomy came with the package, and let's just say me as a twelve-year-old wasn't exactly the prime of my attractiveness. Belly claims she loves how unique each of my obsessions were, from my stamp-collecting phase to my chemistry lab kit stage, but I'm not sure she's the most unbiased source.

As I join her in lugging our bags out of the Jeep, I point up at the sky and say, "Look."

She gazes upwards and her face lights up into a smile. It's one of my favorite smiles, because it's a beautiful mix of nostalgia and excitement. She almost always gets that same look on her face when Cousins comes up in conversation, like she misses the times we used to have there, but she also can't wait to make more of those memories that she cherishes so much.

She lifts a hand up to point out a certain arrangement of stars. "That one looks like an infinity, see?" I look up to where she's pointing, but all I see is the Little Dipper. I tilt my head a little more to try and see what she sees, and after a minute I do see it. It's like a glittering reminder of when we spent the night of Valentine's Day stargazing together, when we were teenagers. When I smile at the memory and look over at Belly, the look in her eyes tells me that she remembers it, too.

Gathering our luggage, we head into the lobby of the resort and Belly rings the little bell at the counter. A woman comes up in front of us, eyeing my ruffled hair and clothes and then Belly's dress paired with the lopsided flower still tucked behind her ear.

I clear my throat. "Hi. We have a reservation for one week, and our check-in time was 7:30."

She snaps out of her judgy-face reverie and plasters on an attentive smile. "Of course, welcome to Honolulu. Whose name is the reservation under?"

"Mr. and Mrs. Fisher," I respond, seeing Belly smiling proudly with a tint of blush coloring her cheeks. Me too, Belly.

The woman consults the computer in front of her, clicking and typing for a few seconds before turning, retrieving two keycards from the machine behind her, and neatly placing them on the counter in front of us. "Your room will be on the third floor, number 307." Holding a finger up to stop us before we set off for our room, she bends down and retrieves two leis from a box, walking around the desk to give me a bright yellow lei, which I place around Belly's neck with a grin, and she places a similar orange one around mine. The lady smiles, a little stiffly, and says, "Enjoy your stay. And many congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Fisher."

Belly smiles widely and thanks her, making sure to add just a little too much enthusiasm in her reply so that it sounds sarcastic, but not overly so. So she noticed, too. I let a small smile creep onto my face as I take the two keycards in my hand and we head to the elevator.

Thankfully, no one else is with us, because I hate the awkward, forced interactions that always feel necessary in elevators. If you're going to make such painfully-forced conversation, might as well just not speak at all.

As soon as the doors shut in front of us, Belly turns to me and says, "Okay, we're on the third floor, so we have approximately...two minutes to make out." I grin and let go of the suitcase I was holding, replacing it on her waist as she gets on her tiptoes to meet her lips with mine. I slip my tongue between her lips and she makes the hottest sound, like a cross between a gasp and sigh, and my pulse proceeds to go crazy.

It's times like these that I get kind of scared of how much I love her. I've never, ever been so in need of someone the way I need her. Yeah, I've known a girl or two who I couldn't get off my mind for a few days, a week at most. But with Belly, no amount of time with her is ever enough. And sometimes I don't know what I'd do without her. She balances me, and makes me a better person. She knows just how to be with me when I'm in a mood, and exactly what to say when nobody else would. And most of all, she's my connection to everything good and happy. She's seen me at my worst, and I'm at my best whenever I'm with her. It's not like I have commitment issues or anything, but the idea of needing so much of someone kind of scares me.

Tangling my hand in her hair as she deepens the kiss, I slowly walk her towards the back of the elevator, moving my hands to her hips to lift her onto the handrail so conveniently placed, probably for couples like us. She pulls away, looks at me, and then comes back even harder, like all it took was my face for her to need it all over again, and it makes me love her so much more.

After what is not at all long enough, the elevator dings and we quickly pull apart in case someone else is waiting on the other side of the doors. Sure enough, the doors glide open and an elderly couple clutching two suitcases between them looks back at our flushed, very guilty-looking faces as we suppress our smiles and switch spots with the couple, taking our bags with us.

When we navigate to our room, Belly struggles with the keycard for a few seconds, with me standing by, watching with a very bemused expression and being entirely unhelpful, until after a minute or so she finally figures the ~newfangled technology~ out and opens the door.

Looking around, I'm instantly impressed with the room. Lit by a soft yellow lamp, the room looks over a beautiful, glittering sea touching the shore. There's a desk placed near the corner, and on the bed there's a little basket on the pillow. Upon closer inspection, I see that it contains a bottle of wine, a box of fancy Hawaiian Host chocolates, a his-and-hers face mask set, and a small pamphlet thanking us for choosing this hotel and listing some places nearby that are popular with tourists.

Belly has set her stuff down too and inspected the various nooks and crannies of the room in typical Belly fashion, and she spins around and falls back onto the bed, her hair fanning out around her head. I fall back next to her, rolling over so my nose is nudging hers.

"Hi," she breathes, her breath still mildly sweet from the hot chocolate we drank in the airport.

"Hi," I reply before continuing what we started in the elevator and rolling myself on top of her, my heart rate going out the window when she makes that sound I love so much again.