12

When I initially pictured my holiday to Mexico it was a duller experience than what I found myself enjoying. I scheduled an adequate amount of time for the necessities like swimming in the pool, drinking cocktails, listening to music, gossiping with the girls, and of course scrolling social media.

I didn't schedule sex .

In my dreams, maybe.

I was fully conscious as I watched Julia's head roll from left to right. I recoiled at every flick, every suck, every bit of pressure applied to the perfect—

"Spot,"

"What?" Julia said against my clit.

"Nothing."

Fuck me. The woman must've studied the female orgasm. She had to have a degree, or a doctorate, or something educational to do with female anatomy because—

"My God," I moaned.

Julia pointed to the wide-open balcony door and reached up and placed her hand over my mouth whilst somehow managing to sustain the perfect amount of pressure. I gripped the bedsheets with one hand and Julia's hair with the other, pressing her face to my vagina as I came close to climax.

But she didn't allow that .

She suddenly jumped up from her downward dog position. The cool air sweeping over my throbbing clitoris.

"Wait, what?" I was physically panting. My whole body was perspiring. My vagina felt like a volcano about to erupt, and Julia got up to—close the balcony door.

"Seriously?" I cried out.

"Good things come to those who wait." Julia smirked. She wiped at her lips; she was completely naked and took several long gulps of water from the minibar before returning to my favoured position.

"I wanted you to be able to express yourself without listening ears." She grinned. "I'd like to make you cum now if that's okay."

"Yes, please."

Six hours later

Did I expect to find myself sprawled out on a luxury queen-sized bed with an extremely attractive soon to be fully qualified neurosurgeon buried between my legs for the second time that night?

No.

Did I enjoy it?

Absolutely.

Is this what it felt like when Sarah used to obsess over Arizona Robbins? Like everyone ever, I had dabbled with my fair share of Grey's Anatomy episodes, but the commitment to watch all twenty-plus seasons was greater than birthing a child and successfully guiding it to the age of eighteen. Instead, I allowed Sarah to update me on the most pivotal moments whenever she felt the need, which was all the time.

Was Arizona a neurosurgeon? Or was that Callie? Or neither?

I was deflecting.

Julia crawled her way up my body until her face lay on the pillow beside me.

"Hi." She smirked.

I rolled towards her; she manoeuvred her leg so it pressed comfortably against my vagina.

"Hey."

The tingling continued to send shockwaves through my body. I tightened my grip, trying to squeeze out every ounce of pleasure my body could cultivate.

"How was that?" She ran a finger down my neck, between my breasts, and back up. The delicate sensation was like a feather running across my skin.

"Average," I teased.

"Oh, just average, huh?"

I nuzzled into her neck. "Maybe a little more than average," I whispered.

I felt calm in her presence. The part of my brain that overanalysed every tiny detail about my life was quiet. She brushed the hair from my face, freeing my forehead, so she could plant a small kiss in the centre. Should I feel so content and safe in her arms when I knew nothing about her? I had merely scratched the surface, but I wanted to continue scraping away, furiously peeling back the layers like a Scratchcard waiting to reveal the diamond prize. A Scratchcard was a terrible comparison because the chances of winning were one in five, leaving more disappointed people than not.

"What are you thinking?" Julia asked. I felt the movement of her throat against my forehead as I snuggled happily into the space between her chin and her collarbone.

"I hope you're not a Scratchcard," I said.

Julia let out a long laugh. "What?"

"The odds of winning on a Scratchcard are slim."

"Okay—"

"It's a hypothesis," I said.

"You mean a metaphor?" Julia pulled back, so her confused, smirking, all-around sexy face was staring right back at me.

"What's the difference again?" I questioned. Julia explained like she was reading word for word from a dictionary. She would never confuse words like I did. She was clever enough to operate on a brain, and I was clever enough to turn a sweeping brush, a mop, and a hoover into an extendable spider sucker.

"Shall we play Truth or Truth?" I suggested.

"What happened to the dare?"

"I'm too comfortable. Dares require unnecessary movement, and I'm still enjoying a post-orgasm high." I kissed her lips. They tasted like me. I found that to be a turn on, which was new for me. The idea of kissing my own vagina made me a little squeamish, but not with Julia.

"Okay, Truth or Truth it is." Julia tucked one arm under her pillow. Her small, impressively rounded breasts were falling to the side. The bedsheet only covered from her waist down. The dip between her rib cage and her hip dropped inward like the depths of the Grand Canyon. I reached out and traced the line, allowing my finger to linger above her hip.

"What is your biggest fear?" I asked.

Her eyes widened. "Starting off deep. "

"I'm not about to ask you who you'd snog, marry, and avoid from the cast of The Big Bang Theory ."

Penny, Sheldon, Howard.

"How do you know I watched BBT?"

"For starters, you just abbreviated to BBT. Also, you look like a BBT fan."

"I'm not sure if I should be offended." Julia raised her eyebrow.

"It's a brilliant show. Now, back to the question."

"I fear failure. In every aspect," Julia revealed. "What about you?"

After the holiday was over, I feared I might never see Julia again, but that was a vulnerability I wasn't ready to share.

I shrugged. "Never finding the one."

"Are you trying to say you haven't found her? I'm right here, baby." She winked.

God, I wish it were that easy. I wish I'd known Julia for years and I could entertain the idea of her being the one for me.

"Is that really what scares you?" Julia's grin faded.

"Yes. I don't need you to tell me I'm beautiful and I'll find everything I'm looking for one day. I'm not saying it for reassurance."

"Oh, I wasn't going to. You're hideous actually. Ghastly even. I'm not sure you'll ever find love."

I pinched at the exposed skin on her stomach. She threw her head back in laughter, and I wished I could record it so I would never forget the sound. I didn't though, that would've been creepy.

"If you were someone else, I might say I find it impossible to picture a world where you are not loved fiercely and unconditionally. I think you'll get that storybook kind of love one day; I'm sure of it," Julia said sincerely. "Hypothetically speaking of course."

"Thank you."

Julia pulled the sheets off my leg and traced a long thick scar on the outside of my thigh. "What happened here?"

My leg wasn't normally sensitive to touch, but my whole body reacted with that tingle I'd experienced too many times since I met her.

"I climbed down into a ravine to save a duck, and I slipped because my coordination is abysmal. I scraped my leg against a sharp tree branch." I cringed.

It was at the top of my most horrific memory list. The blood made me pass out, not once but twice. Sarah had to climb down the ravine and wrap her favourite shirt around my leg to stop the bleeding, which technically, was her own fault for wearing it on a trek in the middle of winter when it was bound to be muddy; she still hasn't let me live that down.

"Ouch. Was the duck okay?"

"Oh yeah, it flew off perfectly fine after I collapsed in a bleeding heap in the small stream at the bottom of the ravine."

"Let me guess though, you'd do it again?" Julia asked.

"Absolutely. I love animals."

I loved animals too much. My whole social media newsfeed was like looking at David Attenborough's IMDb credentials. I hyperventilated every other day when I thought some animal was in distress or I saw the sweetest dog up for adoption, and I cried most days when I watched The Asher House Instagram account. I hoped to open my own non-profit animal sanctuary one day.

"How many stitches? "

"I don't remember. I was high as a kite from the pain meds. Sarah will be able to tell you what happened in vivid detail. I don't allow her to relay it to me; it makes me feel funny inside."

"Did the air ambulance come?" Julia propped herself up. She was invested.

"God no; that would've been mortifying. Sarah had to haul me back up the hill. Luckily, we weren't far from the main road and my car."

"Seriously?" Julia's eyes bulged. "How?"

"Sarah is like the Ronda Rousey of normal Mancunian people. She's genetically blessed with muscles. Whatever you do, don't challenge her in the gym. I tried once. I couldn't walk for days."

"Mancunian?" Julia questioned.

"It just means you were born and raised in Manchester."

"Oh, okay."

"Do you have any major scars?" I asked.

Julia shook her head.

"Broken bones?"

"Nope. I've been lucky to avoid serious injury up to this point." She threw her arm back behind her to tap the bedside table. "Knock on wood."

I laughed. "It's definitely touch wood."

"You British folk say things weird."

"Says the girl from Long Island who asks for a pie when they actually want a pizza."

"It's a slice of pie!" We'd debated the same topic for ten minutes the day before.

"And I'm a turnip."

Julia burst out laughing. "You're crazy. "

"Right." I leaped up and returned from the minibar with two shot glasses and a glass bottle of Fanta. It tasted so much better from a glass bottle.

"Are you ready for a quick-fire round?" I clinked the shot glasses together.

"Are you suggesting we shoot Fanta?" Julia laughed.

"Yes, it was this or the bottle of wine." I was no wine connoisseur but shooting it seemed disrespectful to the wine gods. Maybe the wine god was a giant grape with a face and corks as feet. My mind wandered.

"Okay, do your worst, Fox." Julia sat up, making no attempt to cover her breasts. My heart fluttered knowing she felt so comfortable. She accepted the glass, and I poured the first "shot". "Wait, what are the rules?"

"If you don't answer the question within five seconds, you take a shot."

"What if I do answer it in five seconds? Surely, there has to be an incentive because my dislike for orange Fanta is not great enough to motivate me."

"Maybe I should change it for orange juice." I debated. "Okay, if you answer it in the time allocated, you get one free non-existent coin to use at the out of hours slot machine." I was making it up as I went, but Julia seemed to be enjoying my creativity.

"I'm listening."

I pulled at the sheet, so the weight fell over my shoulder to hold it in place. It was draped over me like a toga. I desperately wanted to attend a Roman-themed costume party; wearing a giant cloth with sandals seemed comfortable. It was fashion suicide but comfortable, and as I rapidly approached the age of thirty, I needed more comfort. Maybe I could throw a costume party. I was digressing .

"The slot machine provides multiple chances to win prizes in the form of sexual favours." The confidence came from nowhere. My hands were trembling. My heart was racing. I fought every urge in my body to retreat. She made me confident. Julia made me feel seen, sexy, and secure enough in her presence that I could be anyone I wanted to be. She gave me all the S s, and she had no idea.

"Okay, I'm ready."

"Coffee or tea?"

"Coffee." It sounds like she says caw-fe e, and suddenly her accent is my favourite of all accents.

"Morning or night?"

"Morning."

"You could be anywhere tomorrow, where would you be?"

"Here, with you."

Goddamn you. She was smooth.

"Okay, that answer deserves double coins."

I counted out four with my fingers.

"Camping or glamping?"

"I don't know what that second one is," Julia admits.

"Glamping is a posh form of camping. Less freezing in a sleeping bag and more snuggled by a fire in a wooden shed."

"Camping, then."

"Seriously?"

"Glamping sounds like it takes the fun away from camping. I want to wear a beanie because my ears are cold, light a fire with twigs I collected from the forest, and eat s'mores until the burnt marshmallows make my mouth taste like caramelized sugar."

It sounded like a Julia Hanlow scene from one of my dreams. She'd look good in the wild.

"Who was your first crush?"

"My mom's best friend."

"Who was your last crush?"

"You." Julia smirked.

I blushed. "You're sucking up to the game show host—cheater."

She held up her hands apologetically. "It's not cheating if it's true."

Julia Hanlow had a crush on me.

Me.

"Can I ask you a question now?" she asked.

I nodded. I knocked back a Fanta shot for good measure; I was thirsty.

"How many of these imaginary coins." She held her hand like she was cupping loose change. "Do I have to use to fuck you in the shower?"

Gulp . I bit my lip because it felt right and because Julia was kissing my neck. Her fingers lifted my chin to the left, my God, I couldn't control myself. I didn't think it was possible to be any more aroused.

"I think just the one—"

Julia licked her lips. "Follow me."

hours later

You know the feeling when you go to a theme park and you're desperate to ride the rollercoaster, so you ride it again and again? You queue for hours on end to experience the thrill, the excitement, the sensation of being completely out of control with nothing but a mechanical harness to hold you in place. You spend a full day screaming from the depths of your soul. You feel weightless, panic, and joy all at the same time. I loved rollercoasters. I loved the feeling of adrenaline pumping through my veins. It's a feeling I've only felt on two occasions, the first was the rollercoaster; the second was now.

In the moment with Julia, I felt truly weightless. I walked back into the bedroom from the balcony. Julia lay on her back, sprawled out in nothing but a pair of tight jersey shorts and a cotton bra top. I objected to her covering her boobs, but it didn't seem appropriate to answer the door for room service completely naked.

She stared at me; her head propped up with her hand. She looked cosy in the tangled mess of bedsheets, scatter cushions, and the extra pillows from the pillow menu. Julia felt she'd needed more leverage a few hours earlier when trying one or two Kama Sutra moves I was amateurly unaware of. I'd lived a sheltered life, but she didn't judge me. She made me feel like it was sexy to be vulnerable and cute to be unaware of the moves I probably made my Barbie dolls do when I was ten years old. It was easier with plastic figures. I was a human being with a decent range of flexibility, but some things required acrobatic skill and steady upper body strength, which I didn't possess.

She was sleepy now. I could see the drowsiness in her eyes. They fluttered slowly, watching my every move, as I attempted to clear away some of the room service trays. She watched me like she didn't want to miss me, like I might disappear if she closed her eyes. Her mouth produced a soft sigh, somewhere between a yawn and a groan.

Julia dropped her phone off the side of the bed onto the mountain of clothing below .

"I have sent the—I'm sorry I've been a little moody on this trip, but I'm coming out of the other side text—to my parents." She rolled back, removing her shorts in the process. She liked to sleep naked. A fact I learnt quickly and was not at all opposed to.

"And I have sent the—I'm sorry I've been a little MIA recently, but I will make it up to you on the next holiday text—to Sarah and Billie."

I did feel bad. It wasn't like me to ditch my friends for anyone, but this felt different. I think they realised it too. When I glanced back at my phone, they blew up our group chat with equally supportive and sarcastic replies.

Billie

I would also be MIA if a hot surgeon wanted to

use her tongue to delve deep into my vulva.

Billie

We get it. Do you boo.

Sarah

Her? Interesting—

Billie

I didn't mean a woman.

Personally, I would like a man to delve deep

into mine.

Sarah

You can't take it back now.

I'm just glad you're finally admitting your truth.

Billie

I could still lick a vagina better than you.

Sarah

I have no doubt.

They say "straight" girls are the best.

Me

It's true.

All those years teaching men.

Sarah

Urgh. I don't miss orgasmless sex.

Me

You've never even had sex with a man...

Sarah

I know. I just hate being left out.

I like to sympathise with you.

Billie

Harp, when are you coming back into this realm?

We miss you.

Sarah

We do. Respectfully though, we do also want you to

get your brains fucked out. So, no rush.

Billie

That is the sign of true friendship.

The chastity belt has been removed.

My girl is free.

Sara h

Ho until you can't ho no more.

Me

There will be no ho'ing.

Billie

Spoil sport.

Me

I love you guys.

Sarah

I love you more than the Mexican sun.

Billie

I love you more than margaritas by the pool.

Sarah

. . .

Billie

. . .

The controversial TV show, Little Britain, from the early 2000s was well known for several different skits. Of course, Matt Lucas dressed like a schoolgirl screaming out obscene, I love you , phrases on the third attempt was the one Billie adopted as our ritual. It was my turn, and it made me want to die inside, but I typed out the first disgusting thing that came to mind.

Me

I love you more than an STI-ridden vagina .

Billie

That's our girl.

Sarah

That was a good one. I hope Julia's isn't.

The two of them bombarded the chat with laughing faces: the standard one, the slanted one, the cat laughing one, and finally the purple suit dancing emoji that looked like John Travolta from the seventies; that had always been Billies favourite.

"What are you smirking at?" Julia asked.

"My idiot friends."

"I know I haven't spent a lot of time with them, but they seem pretty great."

"They are the best."

I climbed in bed next to Julia and laid my head on her chest. She began stroking the hair from my forehead. My stupid fringe had only gotten in the way for the entire trip, and I was one sex-fuelled session away from pinning it back off my head with a snappy metal hair grip like I did in high school.

"We need to sleep," I mumbled.

"I don't want to sleep."

"We need too." The curtains did their best to block out the light, but it was afternoon. We hadn't left the hotel room since the night before. Sleep had been minimal. My eyes felt like someone had stacked mini wardrobes on top of them. The only thing keeping me from falling asleep instantly was Julia's sweet voice and the worry I might wake from this dream if I did.

"I only have a few days left. If I sleep it means less time with you," Julia whispered.

"I'll see you in your dreams." I leant up and pressed my lips to hers. She tasted like the green juice we'd had for breakfast .

"I hope so," she said. I felt Julia's body relax beneath me.

Why did it feel like I was losing control to something bigger than myself? Julia made me feel both emotionally and physically safe. I craved security and stability, and I didn't believe anyone could give that to me.

I was scared to love.

I was vulnerable to the idea.

I was confused by this feeling of alignment.

The intensity of our connection went beyond physical attraction. I had no idea what that meant, or how to process it. I decided to sleep and pray for subconscious answers.

24 hours later

I peered through the slit of my eyelid. It was dark again. My body clock was completely out of sync. Morning was night; night was morning, and Julia was— gone .

My hand searched through the mass of bed linen. I felt no limbs outside of my own. The only warmth was radiating from the pillow in between my legs, which I'd spent the whole night straddling.

Once my eyes adjusted, I noticed the curtains ruffling. A small breeze made its way through the gap in the sliding door that led to the balcony. I covered my naked body with the crumpled robe from the floor; the cold from the stone tiles had seeped into the towelling, and it cooled my warm partially sunburnt skin. It was the most clothing I'd had on since we arrived in the hotel room the night before, not that I was complaining.

I peeled back the curtain. Julia sat in the circular wooden chair; her feet were propped up on the glass balcony railing. She didn't notice the shift in the curtain. The sound of the sea crashing against the shore was hypnotic. The wind rustled through the trees. It was peaceful. Julia looked out into the dark night sky where a small hint of orange lay on the horizon. She was unmoving. Her head relaxed against the back of the chair. Her hair was loose and tangled around the wooden pieces at the back. The dull balcony light highlighted her profile and the softness of her jawline in the pale moonlight.

I could've watched her forever. She displayed such serenity. I pulled my phone from the pocket of my robe, ignoring the hundreds of teasing text messages from my friends, as I flicked the camera into focus. I wanted to capture the moment I knew I would never forget Julia Hanlow. People may never understand the significance of the photo, but I would.

This wasn't just the woman who had spent the last twenty-four hours making me orgasm on more occasions than I thought humanly possible. I could've walked away with that notion. I could've accepted that Julia's short-lived appearance in my life was to teach me a thing or two about my own self-worth, to teach me how to be confident, to teach me how to be unashamedly sexual, and how to get the most out of an orgasm—that part had been fun. The sound of her moaning in response to my tongue could've been my ringtone, if it weren't deemed highly inappropriate. It was the most exhilarating sound.

She had taught me all the above, but the thoughts felt empty and devalued. Julia was much more than an educator. She wasn't just a brief encounter. Our connection went beyond surface-level conversations and initial similarities. It felt deeper than that. I thought myself crazy for thinking it, but it felt as though we shared a deep, honest, and unexplainable connection forged in my soul. I had no idea if she felt the same. I could only hope.

"What are you thinking?" I said softly. Julia didn't flinch. She was too calm to be startled.

"The world is a fascinating place." Julia sighed. She patted at her lap. "Come, sit with me."

I obliged. The chair was big enough to accommodate. I squeezed my bum in beside her, draping my legs across her waist.

"What fascinates you?" I asked.

She smiled sincerely. "Everything. The planets. The sun. The sea. The birds. The trees. The human body. I couldn't sleep, so I came out here to experience the sunrise, and I got to thinking—" She toyed with the belt from my robe. "We are so lucky we get to experience the sun rising. We are lucky we get to meet people, forge friendships, fall in love, build lives, and have hopes and dreams. I don't know about you, but I know I take it for granted sometimes," she expressed.

"Me too," I agreed.

"It's just nice to sit here and let the silence put things into perspective, y'know?"

I nodded. I ran my hand across Julia's chest, slipping inside the open expanse of her robe and stroking the smooth skin along her chest bone.

"I wish this didn't have to end." I touched a kiss to her forehead.

"It doesn't have too." Julia looked up at me with hope in her eyes.

But it did. I had been living in a dreamlike state for the past forty-eight hours. I didn't know how to return to reality, but reality was always there lurking in the background, waiting to creep up and pull the rug from underneath me. It was always going to end. The distance was impossible to endure. I hoped above all else I would find the strength to accept what I could not change. When the time came, I would be able to smile and wave as she left the resort to return to her life 3400 miles away from mine.

Life sucked.

"I think we both know it does." I sighed. The whole situation felt like such a surreal experience. I wanted to enjoy the time we had left, but as the ticking clock of disappointment edged closer, I found myself in the early stages of fight or flight; I had to protect my heart.

I pressed my tongue to Julia's lower lip; she opened her mouth to allow the warmth of her tongue to mix with mine. Her hand tangled with my hair; the other clawed at my waist to manoeuvre my body until I found myself straddling her. I pulled at the centre of her robe until the whole of her torso was exposed.

"God, you're so sexy."

She untied the knot in my robe, seductively perusing my body from top to bottom. Unlike her, I had no underwear on; Julia's eyes lit up.

"Ditto."

We spent the next hour having sex on the balcony with only the slow rising sun as a spectator. I failed to recognise the amber glow as the sun etched its way up. I was too caught up in our joint effort to make each other orgasm—whilst remaining quiet—the sunrise was no longer the most beautiful sight .

I remembered a recent podcast on the topic of love and beauty. It discussed how the most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or touched, instead, they must be felt. I had always assumed visiting beautiful cities, seeing world renowned landmarks, or sunbathing beside the most crystal blue sea, was the definition of beauty. Sunrises and sunsets were supposed to be amongst the prettiest things in the world to experience, but there I was blissfully ignorant to my surroundings because I'd found something more.

Suddenly, it made sense.

Beauty was laughter. Beauty was companionship. Beauty was Julia. Beauty was love. In that moment I recognised the value of what we had. Julia had already left an imprint on my soul and the awareness I would be better for it... no matter the outcome.