Girl Meets Boy

The ocean is a deep electric blue when I wake in my hammock, the aquatic horizon glimmering in flirtation with sunset. I roll onto the splintered porch, standing on travel-stiff limbs, and survey my new island home through the blur of near-sleep. Movement enters my periphery and I startle at first, registering the limits of my solitude. There’s a man on the porch of a neighboring hut. He’s hanging from a bamboo rafter, swinging long legs, stretching the sinewy, well-defined muscles of his back. Maybe sensing my presence, he stands up, turns to face me. He’s tall, tanned, and scruffy-handsome, shirtless and barefoot with a sarong wrapped around his waist. I smile, blushing against my will.