—Melisa M. Hamling

The terminal was bustling when I wheeled my little suitcase out and searched for signs directing me to the airport exits. A family of four ran past me, dressed entirely in matching Disney gear, while the father called out for someone to hold their plane.

All of the voices around me were blending into one giant, low murmur as I followed the massive, blue signs, leading me past quick-service restaurants and indoor palm trees. Further ahead, I spotted an empty bench and trotted over to it, as quickly as I could, before anyone else could steal the spot. It was situated next to a large water fountain, and the sound of running water helped to ease my nerves that were already running haywire.

I claimed the space of the bench and powered on my phone, only to be bombarded with notifications of messages and calls. Immediately, I found Arrows in the recent list and called him. It rang once then went to voicemail.

"Hey, you know what to do at the beep."

"Julian," I said, "I just landed. I'm kind of walking aimlessly around the terminals, not sure where to find you. Will you please call me back as soon as you get this, and let me know where you are?"

I sat on the bench for a minute, staring at the fountain, then decided to text Laina and let her know of my safe arrival.

Just got to Orlando. All good. Thanks again for today, Lain.

"Brooke? Brooke!" I heard a man's voice say, from behind me. Even though it was not Julian's, I recognized it, but couldn't immediately place it. My eyes searched the space around me and coming towards the bench was Adam.

Oh God.

No.

I couldn't believe I'd somehow forgotten—they were returning from their cruise today. What were the chances of this?

Pretty damn good, if your name happened to be Brooke Fray.

"Hey," I finally managed to stammer, and stood to my feet to give my stepdad a hug. Adam's skin was noticeably tanner, and his usual, short, spiky blond hair was slightly longer and gelled to the side.

The lack of lines on his forehead gave him the benefit of looking several years younger than his actual age. Adam's deep-set eyes were cheerfully accentuated by his inverted, triangular-shaped face. He wore a blue Hawaiian style shirt with a white floral pattern, that just screamed, "I'm a tourist fresh off vacation."

"Honey, look who I found!" Adam called over his shoulder, while adjusting his heavy looking backpack.

I locked eyes with my mom, who was almost too busy to notice me, as she tried complimentary samples of frozen yogurt.

Confusion, then realization, made her pupils dilate, as she ran towards me, still finishing her spoonful. Her arms were spread wide open, several feet before she made it to the bench, to engulf me in a huge hug. Her short, black hair ended just below her ears, tucked behind a pair of sunglasses, and I could practically smell the aroma of the sea on her.

"Brookie! What are you doing here?!" She essentially screamed into my ear, drawing far too much attention to us in such a crowded space.

"I don't believe it! Why didn't you tell me you were coming home? What made you change your mind? When did you get here? Have you been waiting long? Are you here with Caleb? Where is he?" My mom bombarded me with question after question, and I chose to only answer a few.

"I just got here a few minutes ago. I, um, I'm just here for the weekend," I managed to say. "Just a short visit."

"Oh, is Caleb at baggage claim? You look beautiful. Why are you dressed like this? Honey, I have missed you so much!" My mom wrapped her arms around me again, nearly squeezing a cough out of me.

I took a moment to admire her white maxi dress, with large, purple, floral designs towards the bottom hem. My mom's face much resembled my own. The two main differences, I decided, were that her face was more square in shape, and her eyes were a lighter shade of honey brown, highlighted by neatly plucked brows.

"I had my interview today." I tried to breathe. "I got offered the job at the Tucson Telegram."

My mom pulled back for just a moment to examine my face, and with the hint of tears in her eyes, she pulled me back in, only tighter this time.

"Alright, alright. Let the girl breathe." Adam laughed and patted my shoulder. My mom finally released her kung fu grip.

I realized I was lying by omission about Caleb, and why I was in Orlando, but I simply couldn't tell my mom the whole truth. Some things were better kept a secret, and I knew that better than anyone.

"How was your cruise?" I tried to shift the focus away from me.

That was all my mom needed, to go into a full spiel about the Bahamas cruise. I listened intently to the details about her room, the overpriced wine, sneaking desserts back to the cabin from the dinner buffets, her dolphin excursion, dancing to a 1980s tribute band on the ship, and how the staff would leave fresh towels, in the shape of a heart, on the bed each morning.

Somewhere between the story of the crème brûlée mishap, and the false fire alarm at midnight, I started to feel impatient. Nervously, I twiddled my thumbs along the front of my phone, waiting for Julian to call me. I had not gotten the chance to check my texts before Adam found me, so I had no idea if Julian was even at the airport.

What if he changed his mind and skipped out on me?

Would he do that?

How would I get to my mom's place from here?

Worse yet, how would I explain the lack of Caleb's presence once I got there?

I tried to pay attention to my mom, but her voice got fuzzy, then fuzzier, until it sort of blended in with all the other voices in the airport.

"Are you going to ride with us?" I snapped back into reality, with some clarity, at my mom's question.

Her brown eyes—too large for her face, much like my own—lit up and I was reminded of how much I missed her. Instantly, I felt guilty for zoning out during her storytelling.

Just then, something brightly colored behind her caught my eye.

I felt the breath yanked from my body when I spotted Julian leaning against a railing, with two yellow tulips in his hand, as he stared at me. A crisp, white t-shirt hugged his body almost as tightly as his black jeans clung to his legs.

His eyes were searching mine for something, and I wondered how long he had been standing there, watching us.

"Brooke?" My mom waved a hand dramatically in front of my face.

"Sorry, Ma. Long day." I pinched the bridge of my nose, trying to figure out what I would do.

"I understand, honey. Are you and Caleb going to ride with us?" Her use of his name felt like lashes on my skin, and I was ready to get out of that stuffy airport.

Julian was just feet away and I needed to get to him, as fast as my feet could carry me. Every passing second was a tortuous punishment. He was right in front of me, but I couldn't have him yet. My mind would not stop spinning.

"No," I simply replied. "There's a ride waiting already."

"Are you sure? Because you know we can bring you, and you can stay at the house in your old bedroom, and—" my mom began, before Adam cut her off.

"She has plans, Rose. Let's let her be." Adam rescued me, for now. I looked at him with gratitude and he smiled knowingly at me.

"Okay, well, I love you, honey." My mom apprehensively agreed to let me go on my way. "We should probably get down to baggage claim before they lock away our suitcases for the night. Just give me a call if you want to do something!"

"Yeah, okay." I smiled my most convincing smile, but somehow knew it was not convincing enough.

My mom pecked my cheek, and Adam patted my shoulder, before they moved again through the crowd, yelling ten more goodbyes and I love yous.

When they finally disappeared into the mass of walking strangers, my feet carried me to him.

Julian.

He was really here.

As I began walking toward him, he met me halfway and extended his hand, to offer me the yellow tulips.

"For you," he said with a smile. "Before you laugh at the cliché expression, just know the guy selling them out front was relentless, I had to."

I laughed and smelled the fragrant petals. "Nobody has ever given me flowers before. Thank you."

I wanted desperately to hold him, to touch him, to feel him on me... but intimidation and nerves outweighed my desire.

Before I knew what was happening, Julian grabbed my forearm and gently pulled me in for a long hug. His chest was pressed tightly against mine, and he nuzzled into my hair. My eyes screwed shut and I felt myself evaporate into him. Every muscle relaxed involuntarily, and I quietly sighed.

How could I have felt such relief from this reunion, when we had only been apart a week?

When I had only known him a week?

There was simply no way only seven days had passed. It felt like months and months.

"How was your flight?" He spoke softly into my ear, and in that moment, we were the only two people alive.

"They pampered me too much. But I fell asleep somehow, and stayed asleep the whole flight, so you upgraded me for nothing," I said, smiling into his shirt. I hoped my makeup still looked okay, and was not brushing off onto his white tee. I never even had the chance to check my appearance before seeing him like this.

Julian laughed and I felt the rumble in his chest, with his skin pressed to mine.

"Who were those people talking to you by the fountain?" Julian asked, as his arms rubbed my back softly, in slow circles.

"That was my mom. And Adam, my stepdad. They just got back from a cruise," I said, feeling guilty for not introducing Julian to them.

But what could I have said?

What were Julian and I even doing?

What would I use for his title, for how I knew him?

How could I have begun to answer my mom's intrusive questions, when I had too many more of my own to answer first?

"Oh," he said flatly. "I walked around this airport for ages looking for you. Great time for my battery to die, right?"

Julian pulled me back to look at my face. His burning brown eyes were full of life and I found myself gravitating closer to him. I needed him and could not, for the life of me, rationally explain why.

"This outfit looks even better in person, I must say." Julian bit his lower lip and blood rushed to my ears. My pounding heart went out of rhythm.

"Julian," I said, trying to hide my face in his neck.

"Brooke." His spicy cologne smelled even better than I remembered it. I forced myself to file away the memory of the softness around the curve of his neck.

"Are you hungry?" he asked. His voice was the most beautiful thing I had ever heard. I could have listened to him read dictionaries aloud to me and never grown tired of the sound.

"Yeah," I answered before I really knew if I was. My rumbling stomach confirmed it, though.

"Let's go get dinner and celebrate your new job." He smiled at me, one that reached his eyes.

With one arm around my shoulders, and the other pulling my carry-on, Julian led the way outside, to his waiting rental car. I drew the flowers to my nose and inhaled deeply, wanting to remember exactly how they smelled when mixed with the scent of his cologne. It was like purity and sinfulness, love and lust, mixed into one. I had never smelled a more potent, addicting combination.

At my suggestion, we stopped at Ceviche. The flamenco dancer was just getting started, and the waiter was able to secure us a dimly lit table towards the back of the restaurant.

Julian's eyes went wide at the menu as he tried to enunciate the offerings, and I covered my mouth with the back of my hand to keep from giggling.

"Laughing at me, are you?" He reached over to threaten a tickle under the table.

My arms dropped to my sides and I stiffened. "No, no laughing. And no tickling."

"That's what I thought," Julian said, as he focused back on the menu, eyes down, with a smile playing on his lips. When the waiter returned and pulled a pen and pad from his apron, Julian ordered by pointing to a handful of hot and cold tapas, that he could not pronounce.

"Don't mind sharing, do you?" Julian asked.

"With you? Of course not," I assured him.

"Good." He scooted his chair closer to mine and placed his hand on my lap. "I've missed you. A lot. Is that weird?"

"If you're weird, I am, too." I hoped he would understand what I meant.

The music picked up, and a young woman in a frilly, red dress, which flared out towards the bottom, began to move her arms, hands, and hips in time with the acoustic guitarist's lines. Her feet tapped along as his speed increased, and I stared at her beautiful, dark hair pulled back into a tight bun. It was garnished with a vibrant, red rose that was tucked behind her ear.

I was sure that Julian would be staring at how gorgeous she was, and I dared to steal a jealous glance at him. When I did, he was watching me. He did not flinch when I caught him, rather he kept his glistening eyes directly on mine, peering and piercing into me, as the music continued to surround us. It hurt to stare at him this way, but I couldn't pull my eyes away from his.

Volume and silence.

Surrounded and secluded.

Certainty and confusion.

This was us.

Julian gripped my thigh tighter, and leaned in closer. His lips were slightly parted as he pulled me in, hovering his mouth so close to mine. I was melting under his stare, and had to close my eyes to keep from burning completely inside. I could feel his hot breath on my lips; he was so close to me that I nearly tasted him. I just needed to close the half inch of space between our mouths and...

"Ahem." Our waiter set several plates down on the table between us.

"Your tapas. Enjoy." He bowed, while offering an apologetic smile, and left as swiftly as he had arrived.

Julian let out a long breath and picked up his fork to test the dish closest to him. I decided to do the same. The portobello mushrooms with spinach, shallots, and cheese filled the hollow of my stomach, before we both moved on, to test the mahi-mahi braised in saffron sauce.

"So. So. Good," Julian said between huge bites.

"I told you. This place is amazing." I patted his knee and quickly pulled away. Julian gently grabbed my wrist and placed my hand back on his knee, holding it there.

The flamenco guitar was enveloping us into a private air bubble, impenetrable. Our little corner in the back of the room made us feel so far removed from the problems of everyday life, and I forgot everything in Tucson that had bothered me before. I could not remember why I was ever unhappy, when Julian was out there, floating around in this world, just waiting for me to find him.

When all the plates were cleared except for crumbs, our waiter returned and looked at Julian. "Is there anything else I can get for you and your lovely girlfriend?"

"Oh, I'm not..." I began.

"No, thank you," Julian cut in, winking at me. "We're ready for the bill, please."

Before I could grab the small leather folder myself, Julian slipped a card into the slot and handed it back to the waiter.

"You didn't need to do that," I said.

"Brooke, relax. If you're going to be around me a lot, you have to get used to me spoiling you sometimes. This is nothing. Besides, we are celebrating in your honor, remember?" He smirked at me with his tongue playing behind his teeth.

The way he insinuated I would be around him more often made my heart flutter in odd time. I hoped he meant more than just this weekend. A weekend that was already going by too quickly.

The guitarist set his instrument down for a break, and the dancer stepped off the small section of the wooden floor reserved for their performance. Julian's eyes followed them.

"I can play that, you know," Julian said, between sips of water.

"Guitar? Yeah, I know." I smiled at him.

He laughed. "I meant that style, flamenco."

"You can?" I asked, surprise clear in my tone.

"Yes. I may not be able to speak Spanish, but I can play Spanish guitar. Contrary to popular belief, I'm not just a one trick pony. Shall I prove it to you?" He got to his feet.

"I believe you. Where are you going?" I asked.

Julian took my hand and led me to the middle of the restaurant, which was only starting to clear out for the night. He pulled a chair up for me and I took it, slightly puzzled. Once he got close to the guitar, Julian motioned toward its owner, asking permission to play. With a nod and a hand gesture, Julian sat in the chair and took the guitar into his lap.

He started playing softly, but quickly built rhythm and volume. His fingers moved expertly as he plucked the strings and tapped the wooden frame of the acoustic. The hired player for the night clapped along to the rhythm, shouting in approval and shock at Julian's concealed talent.

Other patrons started clapping along, yelling encouragements. The flamenco dancer waltzed over to where I was seated, placed a hand on my shoulder, and then extended it for me to accompany her in a dance. I shook my head.

"I can't. I don't know how," I confessed.

"I'll show you!" she promised, talking loudly over Julian's playing.

Julian's eyes were on me as he continued, and he nodded in reassurance. Hesitantly, I stood with the dancer as she placed one elegant hand on her hip, and one fluid wrist in the air.

"Bend your knees a little," she instructed. "Click your heels to the floor, like this. A little faster."

I held the edge of my pencil skirt and followed her movements, keeping my shoulders straight back.

"Stick your elbow out. Keep it higher than your wrist. Now, keep your wrist higher than your fingers. You have it!"

She started moving faster, and so did I.

The patrons remaining in the restaurant cheered as we grew quicker, and I smiled.

I smiled with teeth, and I laughed.

I laughed until my stomach hurt.

I couldn't recall ever before feeling so airy, so confident, so alive, and so happy.

When I peeked back at Julian, he was grinning even bigger, as he shook the fringe of golden brown hair from his brows to get a clearer image of me.

With the spotlight focused on the chair where he sat, I was sure he was a figment of my imagination. There was no way a single human being could look so painfully beautiful. The way the muscles in his arms curved as he played, the way his face glowed with the thinnest layer of sweat, the way his eyes shined and burned with life.

Perhaps the most unbelievable of all was that he was mine. Mine for the weekend only, maybe. But mine all the same.

1. "Waiting" by Aquilo

2. "Passenger Seat" by Stephen Speaks

3. "Thinking Out Loud" (cover) by Boyce Avenue

4. Flamenco Guitar by Don Cortes Maya

5. "Movement" by Hozier (Thank you, )