Chapter 77 Beach Day Blissssss
Malia's POV
The first full day on the island wakes me up with sunlight flooding in through the sliding glass doors, warm and golden as it lays across the bed. I can hear Aiden moving around the bathroom, the soft rush of the shower I realize he is already up.
I lazily stretch, sheets twisted around my legs, and I feel this pleasant soreness in my muscles from travelling yesterday and hibernating hours locked inside each other last night.
By the time I stroll out to the deck in one of Aiden’s huge shirts and cut off shorts, the group has already begun to drift apart on the beach below. Freddy and July secure a territory of sand near the water, towels laid out, an umbrella hammered into the earth like a banner of triumph.
Rowan is up to his knees in the shallows, examining something in the tide pools. Cian, meanwhile, is seated cross-legged on a blanket higher up the beach, making sketches in the notebook he keeps on his person.
Aiden steps up behind me, hair wet and curling at the ends, clad in low-slung swim trunks and nothing else. He puts his arms around my waist from behind and kisses the side of my neck.
“Morning,” he murmurs against my skin.
“Good morning.” I lean back against him, gazing up at the view. “Everyone’s already out there.”
“Lazy day,” he says. “Nothing planned is my plan. Nothing but this.”
We join them barefoot, the sand beneath our feet warm. The water is so clear—turquoise turning to a navy blue as we move further out—and so still that it resembles glass until we dip our feet in the water and the waves gently lap at our ankles.
July spots us first. “At long last, the king and queen. We're doing sandcastles! The winner gets bragging rights, and first pick of the hammock tonight.”
Freddy is already hip-deep in wet sand, smoothing a crooked tower. “I’m constructing a fortress. With a moat. And tiny stick soldiers.”
Rowan wanders over, shaking water from his hands. “You’ve gotta have a stronger base. Sand is too dry here.”
Cian looks up from his sketch, one eyebrow raised. “It’s sand. Not architecture.”
“Everything’s architecture,” Rowan mildly states, kneeling to assist.
I laugh and bob right down beside Freddy. “I am on team chaos. No rules.”
July plops down next to me. “Perfect. We’ll make the prettiest disaster.”
We go build for hours—laugh when towers fall, snatch shells from each other’s stashes, flick wet sand at the guys when they get too serious. Aiden helps me mold a mermaid tail for our castle, his shoulder brushing mine every time he bends over.
Rowan and Cian, spur on the moment, team up on an unexpectedly intricate dragon that protects Freddy’s fortress. July adds some glittery rocks she has in her bag—“contraband from the mainland”– and announces our side the winner in the startled by sheer sparkle.
After the sandcastles comes sunbathing. We lie on towels, our skin warming under the sun, and the sound of the waves a steady lullaby. July slathers sunscreen on Freddy’s back as he wails his disappointment. Rowan is lying on his stomach with a book, but I catch him looking at me every few minutes—silent, contemplative glances that no longer feel heavy.
Then July sits up abruptly. “Volleyball. Now. Girls versua boys.”
Freddy groans. “I’m bad at sports.”
“That’s why you’re on our team,” July says sweetly. “We need the underdog energy.”
Aiden smirks. “You’re on.”
We use driftwood and shells to mark a court in the sand. July and I against the three brothers. No real net — just an imaginary line — and a bright beach ball July somehow manages to pack.
The game is chaos from the first serve.
July spikes hard, aiming for Rowan. He dives, misses, comes up spitting sand. Freddy goes to serve and lob the ball right into the water. Cian is frustratingly excellent—cool, exact blocks that have July swearing inventively. Aiden plays dirty—constantly distracting me with winks and smiles until I miss an easy return.
“Cheater!” I yell, laughing.
He’s jogging toward me before he gets there, grabs me by the waist and spins me around once before he sets me down. “All’s fair.”
July celebrates by tackling Freddy when we finally score a point. Rowan laughs—real, unguarded—and even Cian cracks a small smile. We end up lying down on the sand after, our breath taken away, and covered in salt and sand, calling it a tie because none of us can remember the score.
Now the sun is high and merciless. Everyone drifts back to towels but Aiden. He grabs my wrist when I begin to follow.
“Swim with me?” he offers softly.
I nod.
We wade on into the water together. The water is just right–cool but not cold, clear enough to watch schools of fish swimming around our ankles. When it reaches my waist Aiden pulls me closer, his hands coming to rest on my hips.
“Float with me,” he says.
I throw myself around his neck. He escorts us out until the ocean raises us both, buoyant and weightless. My legs are wrapped loosely around his waist; his arms keep me steady. We do that, bobbing face to face, the world narrowed to the easy rhythm of the swells and the heat of his skin pressed to mine.
His hands are slow – they slide up my back and trace the curve of my spine underneath the water, his fingers sliding beneath the fabric of my bikini top to touch skin. I shiver, even with the sunshine.
“Tell me something, just one thing,” he whispers.
“Like what?”
“A dream. Something you’ve never told anyone.”
I press my forehead against his. “I want … a place like this. Not this big, I guess. Just a place where I can hide out. A garden. A view of water. And the people I love, coming and going. No schedule. No expectations.”
His thumbs skim slow circles across my ribs. “I can see that. You in a sundress, barefoot, reading in the shade. And I’ll bring you coffee. Rowan tending plants. Cian sketching by the window.”
My heart clenches at the image he paints — so simple, so possible. “And you?”
He kisses me on the corner of the mouth. “I want you. Every day. Waking up to you. Coming home to you. Seeing you laugh with the people who matter. Creating something real. No hiding. No pretending.”
His hands go lower, covering my hips, drawing me closer to him. The water shifts around us in gentle swells, but all I can sense is him—the rigid planes of his chest, the warmth of his palms, the way his breath hitches when I move closer.
“I want that too,” I whisper.
Then he kisses me—slow, deep, salty, sunny. One hand tangles in my wet hair; the other one goes underwater and traces the hem of my bikini bottom, taunting but not taking. I arch into him, hands grasping at his shoulders, the romantic tension mounting until it feels like the tide itself is pulling us under.
Finally when we separate, our foreheads resting against each other, our breaths caught, he smiles —soft, nearly boyish.
“More of this later,” he promises.
“Promise?”
“Definately.”
We float a little longer, whispering softly — about nothing, about everything, — until the sun is coming down in his slow way to meet the horizon. On land, the group prepares for dinner. A long table on the sand, lanterns strung from poles, platters of grilled fish and vegetables Rowan somehow drags out of the cooler.
July lights citronella candles to keep the bugs away. Freddy pops beers and passes them around.
We eat with the sand between our toes, talking over each other, laughing at nothing at all. The sky goes pink and gold, then a deep indigo. Stars begin to prick through.
As soon as the plates are taken away, Cian astonishes us all.
He takes a guitar from the house — one I hadn’t even seen he brought — and sits upon a driftwood log near the fire pit. Without a word he begins to play, gentle acoustic chords that float out above the crackling fire and the crashing waves.
July’s mouth drops open. “You play?”
Cian shrugs, his fingers noticeably agile as they glide over the strings. “Sometimes.”
He is playing quietly – soft tunes, no singing, only the music that is surrounding us like smoke. Rowan leans back on his elbows, then his eyes are half closed. Freddy lays his head on july’s shoulder. Aiden pulls me between his legs again, arms around me, chin on my shoulder.
Firelight dances over Cian’s face, serious, intense, peaceful…beautiful. The song slows down into something almost hypnotic and I feel Aiden’s lips against my temple.
“Perfect,” he whispers.
I lift my head just enough to kiss the corner of his mouth. “Yeah.”
Under the stars, the ocean sings back up and Cian’s guitar filling the quiet, the island feels like it’s been waiting for us all along.
And it's perfect.