Dancing Barefoot
“Clouds hung on the horizon. She sighed. It was a perfect Sunday.
“You’re lost in thought,” Marc observed, lying beside her. He had stalled the boat and brought down the sails without her noticing. A picnic basket sat between them. His bare tanned legs stretched out against the hot deck. Wind tossed his black hair across his bronzed forehead. “I’m glad I called you. The day’s too good to waste,” she said with a lazy grin. "Being here is the perfect way to end the weekend." "I never tu...rn down a good sailing day," Marc said with a wide smile. "What'd you do yesterday? You took off from McDougal's Friday night like you couldn't wait to get away from everyone." She closed her eyes and tilted her face toward the sun. She didn't want to remember Friday night and Jacques. “Remember last summer? When we all painted the shutters at Miranda's house on the Cape?” Marc laughed. “You started that ridiculous paint fight.”
“I saw an opportunity and went for it,”MoreLess
“You’re lost in thought,” Marc observed, lying beside her. He had stalled the boat and brought down the sails without her noticing. A picnic basket sat between them. His bare tanned legs stretched out against the hot deck. Wind tossed his black hair across his bronzed forehead. “I’m glad I called you. The day’s too good to waste,” she said with a lazy grin. "Being here is the perfect way to end the weekend." "I never tu...rn down a good sailing day," Marc said with a wide smile. "What'd you do yesterday? You took off from McDougal's Friday night like you couldn't wait to get away from everyone." She closed her eyes and tilted her face toward the sun. She didn't want to remember Friday night and Jacques. “Remember last summer? When we all painted the shutters at Miranda's house on the Cape?” Marc laughed. “You started that ridiculous paint fight.”
“I saw an opportunity and went for it,”MoreLess
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