Page 36 of September’s Tide (Island Tales #2)

David exhaled slowly. “We trust that this is real. We talk, every day, if we can. And I come back the first chance I get.”

“And if you get offered another film deal? Another book contract? Something that keeps you there longer?”

“Then I ask you to come with me.”

Taylor blinked. “Seriously?”

He smiled. “Why not? It’s not forever, just for a while. I’ll have a place. You could surf. Or write. Or just…” He cupped the back of Taylor’s neck. “Be near me.”

Taylor gave a soft laugh. “That sounds dangerously like a plan.”

David leaned down and kissed him, slow and sweet and sure. “It’s a promise.”

Taylor exhaled against his lips. “I don’t want this to be a memory. I want it to be a beginning.”

“It is,” David said, his forehead resting against Taylor’s. “It already is.”

For a while, they lay there in the hush of the fading afternoon, not speaking but letting the sound of the waves and the closeness of their bodies fill the space where fear had been.

The kitchen was a little too warm, full of steam from the boiling pasta and the orange glow of the setting sun slipping through the house. David stood barefoot at the stove, stirring the sauce, the wooden spoon moving in slow figure-eights. The scent of garlic and fresh basil rose in waves.

Somewhere behind him, Taylor clattered around in the fridge, cursing gently under his breath. “Did you move the parmesan again? You did. You totally did.”

David smirked. “Guilty. It kept trying to colonize the butter shelf.”

Taylor appeared, triumphant, holding the cheese aloft like a trophy. “This is exactly why I label things.”

“And this is why I ignore labels.” David offered him the spoon. “Taste. Tell me if I’ve just created a tomato-based abomination.”

Taylor accepted the spoon, blew on it, and then sampled it with exaggerated thoughtfulness. He raised an eyebrow. “Not bad. A little heavy on the chili, but I’ll survive.”

David grinned. “Survival’s all I ask for.”

They moved easily around each other, the rhythm practiced now.

David drained the pasta while Taylor grated the cheese directly over the steaming bowls, the curls falling like confetti.

Music played low in the background, some dreamy folk playlist Taylor had queued up.

From outside came the occasional sound of gulls, the wind brushing against the windows like a whisper.

“You know,” Taylor said, nudging David with his hip as he passed him a plate, “I kind of like cooking with you.”

David raised an eyebrow. “Kind of?”

“Well, you do insist on using every single pan in existence,” he teased.

David huffed. “Art requires chaos.”

Taylor rolled his eyes but smiled as he poured them both a glass of wine. “Remind me of that when I’m elbow-deep in washing up later.”

He let out an exaggerated sigh. “There’s this wonderful new invention I think someone needs to tell you about. It’s called a dishwasher, and I hear they’re really catching on.”

Taylor laughed. “And where exactly would you put it in this kitchen?”

He had a point.

They sat at the little kitchen table on mismatched chairs, one of them wobbling slightly. Taylor’s bare foot found David’s under the table and didn’t move. David glanced up at him through the flicker of candlelight Taylor had insisted on lighting even though the sun hadn’t quite set.

Three more nights.

That was the quiet truth pressing between them, not yet urgent or sharp, but there, always.

“This is good,” Taylor said after a few bites. “We make a good team.”

David swallowed. “Yeah, we do.”

The air felt heavy with the knowledge that this wasn’t casual anymore, if it ever had been. Every touch, every shared glance carried memory now, layers of it.

Taylor reached for the wine. “You know, I’ve been thinking about how weird this all is.”

David tilted his head. “Weird how?”

“I don’t know. You come here for a writing break and end up living in my house, eating my pasta, getting sand in my sheets…”

“ Your sheets?” David scoffed. “You’ve slept in mine half the time.”

Taylor grinned. “Fine. Our sheets.”

That one word caught David a little off guard. Our . It slipped out so easily from Taylor’s mouth, but it echoed in David’s chest like a bell.

Taylor must’ve sensed it. He cleared his throat, going back to his pasta. “Just saying. It’s… it’s been a weirdly good thing, you and me.”

David watched him, the candlelight catching on the curve of Taylor’s cheek. “Not that weird,” he said quietly.

Taylor looked up.

“I mean, yeah, unexpected,” David went on.

“Completely out of the blue. But also… like it made sense the second it started.” He smiled.

“Even if you did walk naked across the beach at midnight and proposition me under the guise of offering hot chocolate.” David shook his head.

“A month ago. I didn’t know a thing about you. ”

Taylor gave a little crooked smile. “And now?”

“Now?” David leaned in. “I can’t imagine not knowing you.”

Taylor’s breathing hitched as he reached across the table and took David’s hand. Their fingers laced easily, as if they’d done it a hundred times already. No performance, no grand gesture.

Something real.

They sat like that for a while, finishing their dinner slowly, the silence between them comfortable.

Occasionally one of them would say something about the wine or the sauce, or speculate as to whether gulls ever slept, and the other would respond with a dry joke or a fond smile.

And all the while, the light shifted, dimmed, wrapped them both in the hush of an evening that was so much more than that.

After dinner, Taylor insisted on doing the dishes while David dried, and somehow the process took twice as long as it should’ve: there were too many detours for teasing, for kissing, for splashing each other like children.

By the time they finished, they were both damp and breathless, and laughing as though the end of summer couldn’t touch them.

When the kitchen was finally clean, the music low and the candle burned down to a puddle of wax, Taylor turned to David, his eyes shining. “Let’s stay up late tonight.”

David looked at him. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Let’s not waste the time.”

He pulled Taylor close. “We’re not wasting anything.”

Taylor wrapped his arms around his neck, drawing him into a kiss that was less urgent than earlier, but no less intense.

They had three days left.

And tonight, they would live like time hadn’t already started to slip through their fingers.

The windows were open, and a warm cross-breeze drifted through the room, carrying with it the scent of salt and late honeysuckle. Moonlight painted the ceiling silver, and the soft hum of the sea filled the space between heartbeats.

They’d curled up together on Taylor’s couch after dinner, the remains of the wine forgotten as they got lost in the kind of wandering, unhurried conversation that only happened late at night, full of half-whispered memories, shared fragments of childhood, confessions about fears and dreams they hadn’t planned to share.

At some point, Taylor had pulled David’s legs into his lap and started rubbing gentle circles into his calves, and neither of them had said much after that.

The quiet followed them like a shadow into Taylor’s bedroom.

Taylor stood by the bed, his shirt off, the soft glow of the bedside lamp turning his skin golden. He stared at David as if he was still amazed he was here.

Taylor was still stunned by how easy this felt.

David reached for him, trailing his fingers lightly over Taylor’s hip as he stepped close.

“Still want to stay up late?” he murmured.

Taylor gave him a knowing smile. “That depends on what we’re doing.”

David didn’t answer right away. He leaned in instead, brushing his mouth over Taylor’s, not with heat, not yet, but with awe and adoration.

He’s memorizing the taste of me . All they had was time, and Taylor had no intention of wasting a second of it.

He slid his hands up David’s sides, slow and gentle.

They undressed each other with quiet care, laughing once when David got tangled in the hem of his shirt, their lips finding each other again between smiles.

When they finally slid into bed, the sheets were still warm from the sun that had poured in throughout the day.

They faced each other under the covers, skin to skin.

David traced a finger down the centre of Taylor’s chest, pausing at the rise of his sternum. “You feel different lately,” he said softly. “More… I don’t know. Settled.”

Taylor blinked at him, then nodded. “I think you did that.”

David looked at him for a long moment.

As easy as breathing out and breathing in, Taylor let himself feel all of it, not just the lust or the tenderness, but the rightness of this.

How natural it felt to be here, touching David like this.

The way their bodies lined up. How David arched into every stroke, every kiss, as though he’d been waiting for this exact shape of love.

It started slow, their mouths meeting again, warm and unhurried, hands exploring in patient, familiar paths.

Taylor threaded his fingers through David’s hair, keeping him close.

David took his time kissing down Taylor’s throat, across his chest, as though he was tasting the salt of his skin.

Taylor loved the sounds David made when he touched him in exactly the right way, that soft gasp when Taylor flicked his tongue across a nipple, the shaky exhale when Taylor slid his hand lower, coaxing him to hardness.

David let himself be touched, his eyes fluttering closed, his breathing growing shallower by degrees. But then his hands were on Taylor’s back, urging him closer, and they shifted together like puzzle pieces falling into place.

They moved with a shared rhythm now, the heat rising between them in waves. Taylor’s body pressed over David’s, steady and sure, his hips rolling in slow, aching thrusts that deepened as the minutes passed. David’s legs wrapped around him, anchoring him, urging him on.

And none of it felt rushed.

This wasn’t fast or frantic like before. It was intense, yes, but layered with something far more dangerous: emotion . They kissed like it mattered. Like they were saying things their mouths couldn’t find words for.

David kept whispering his name, not demanding, but grounding, looking at Taylor like he was already half in love.

And when release finally came, with David arching up, crying out as he came between them, and Taylor spilling inside him a heartbeat later, it felt less like an ending and more like a threshold.

Afterward, they lay curled around each other under the sheets, their chests still rising fast, their breath still catching.

David turned his face into the crook of Taylor’s neck. “That… That was something else.”

Taylor smiled against his hair. “Yeah.”

David was quiet a moment. “You feel like home.”

Taylor closed his eyes, tightening his arms around David. “So do you.”

Outside, the wind rustled through the trees, and a fox cried out somewhere in the distance, brief and sharp, then vanished into the night.

Inside, the world was quiet.

Just three more days.

But tonight, they had each other.

And that was everything.