—Victor Hugo

All afternoon, weather forecasts were calling for rain showers that never came to fruition. A few fluffy, gray clouds threateningly shielded the sun for an hour, only to quickly pass again, allowing such blinding light to warm the water of the ocean. Soft ripples splashed against the steel stilts which suspended us, and the quiet crashes called my name into the crystalline blue.

The black bikini Julian had picked out for me turned out to fit almost perfectly, aside from being slightly tight on top. Judging from the look on his face when I stepped out onto the deck, he didn't mind it, so neither did I. We left the sliding glass doors wide open, in order to hear the relaxing playlist Julian created for us, which played from the docking station in the bedroom. The cleanest, crispest, free-flowing air—which circled the inside of our villa—was just an added bonus.

So far away were the days of dry desert, honking cars, smoke, and smog. None of it had any place in our idyllic bliss of the Maldives, and if the two of us could have stayed there for eternity, disappointment would never have found me.

"Where are you going?" Julian broke his trance from the sun-couch that overlooked the ever overflowing infinity pool.

"Swimming." I smiled and adjusted my top with my thumbs.

Our outdoor nap from earlier had energized me, but he still seemed jet lagged, and I wanted him to rest. It was Christmas Eve after all, and if anyone deserved to enjoy a holiday, it was him.

I crossed the short, wooden walk-bridge towards our outdoor bed, and from there, down a few slick cement steps to a low platform with an outdoor showerhead. As the multi-language signs instructed, I rinsed off to ensure that I'd dirty the pristine waters below as little as possible.

With one small, nose-plugging leap, I crashed through the warm, briny surface of the ocean for the first time. The freeing sensation of complete immersion was invigorating.

When I floated back up to the surface, I pushed my hair backwards and out of my smiling face, while slightly kicking my feet to propel forward. I was only a few meters from the ladder of our deck, so I felt safe enough to peer down to the shallow seafloor, and was granted a gorgeous glimpse of mossy coral. Tiny schools of white and yellow ombre fish hurried away at my disturbance of their environment.

"Hey, Jules!" I said in the direction of the deck, but when I looked for him, he was no longer there.

"Jules!" I called again, louder. The view of the fish was just too good to keep to myself. We didn't even need the snorkeling gear provided to us by the resort.

He came into view by the glass doors, wearing snug, striped swim trunks. My admiring stares turned into uncontrollable giggles as he burst into a full speed sprint and catapulted off the side of the deck with a boastful roar. Julian's hair was black with saturation at his return to the surface, and he shook the excess water from his clean shaven face before wafting over to me.

"You called?" He kissed my soaked face.

"Look at this. You can see right to the bottom." I pointed in utter delight. "Right there, see the sea turtle, too?"

When he turned to look, I stroked his back in the water, and he pulled me onto him for a piggyback ride. Strong arms reached behind, to tightly grip my thighs into place, securing my chest against his back. Even though we were floating in the mystery of the Indian Ocean, somehow, I had never felt more safe. With my arms draped gently around the front of his neck, I planted a kiss on Julian's cheek and ruffled his soft, soaked strands. We talked and laughed while he floated around our villa for some time, basking in the sunlight that had already singed our cheeks and nose tips.

"We're getting tans on Christmas Eve," I marveled at the thought.

"I've got to get some sun tan lotion on you." He rubbed the excess water from his eyes. "Though Italians aren't supposed to be such delicate, pasty, burn dangers."

"You just love teasing me, don't you?" My fingertips feigned a tickle on his side.

"Sometimes." The music from the bedroom stopped playing as he said it. "Has it already been three hours? That playlist was massive. We've got to go soon."

"Go where?" I thought we were staying put for five days.

"Inland, to a holiday dinner show." I could practically hear the smile in his voice.

Ripples of warm water softly collided with our skin, as Julian started to sing softly.

"... A whole new world, a new fantastic point of view, no one to tell us no, or where to go, or say we're only dreaming..."

I melted as much from his voice, as I did from the beaming sun overhead. With my arms draped around Julian gently, I pressed my cheek to his shoulder and listened to the way his voice melded with the small, warm waves around us. His song took me back to a suite balcony in Florida, and crackling fireworks, and...

"We should get inside, my love," he said quietly, making me wonder how long I'd been lost within my own mind—reminiscing through our old memories while creating new, beautiful ones.

Julian released his grip on my thighs and I regrettably let go of his back. Whoever thought that physical contact could not create an addictive dependence in a person, had clearly never felt the burning, supple skin of my Julian.

"Up you go." Julian's hands were on my waist, from behind me, helping me to climb the ocean planted ladder to the safety of our private deck. Invisible, painless scrapes from his calloused fingers left my skin aflame in the best way. I took each step slowly, being extra careful not to slip backwards onto him.

As I wrung out my locks on the deck, I stared at my man, with salty water dripping from his calves and arms, and felt the release of a million butterflies within my torso. He caught me staring, and, almost embarrassingly so, read me all too well. Julian unexpectedly charged at me, then crushed my lips with his in dire passion. We nearly didn't make it back to the bedroom.

...

The juices of succulent lobster meat and grilled vegetables enlivened my taste buds as we dined on the sandy shore inland. We sat there barefoot, on comfortable, armless chairs, and I scrunched my round toes into the gritty white sand. It was dark for eight o'clock, and bamboo tiki torches lined the perimeter—carefully placed away from the low hanging, slanted, coconut-decorated palm trees. The light from the slow burning torches nicely complemented the moon's reflection on the nearby ocean.

As a light breeze created motion on the hem of our spotless, white tablecloth, a Santa hat clad waiter refilled our glasses with refreshingly frigid ice water.

"How is everything?" the Maldivian waiter asked slowly, concentrating on his enunciation so that we could better understand his English.

"Perfect. Everything is delicious. Thank you," Julian replied across from me, between bites of beef tenderloin and creamy risotto.

Even on Christmas Eve, Julian teased me by holding a spoonful of the classically Mediterranean rice dish out to my mouth, with a cupped hand underneath to catch any drippings, and asked me, on a scale of one to ten, how Italian it was.

A fire eating performer was pulling off tricks that nearly made me choke with worry for his well being, but each time, he turned out to be fine and unharmed. The flames being spit from the entertainer's mouth must have reminded Julian of his accomplishment that I hadn't praised him enough for having achieved.

"You know I haven't thought of having a cigarette once since we've arrived?" Julian spooned some more risotto into his mouth. "Well, except for just now."

"I couldn't be more proud of you." My hand reached across the linen to cover his fingers. "You should be... what did you call it? Chuffed with yourself."

He laughed into his napkin. "I'm proud of you as well."

"About the wine?" I blurted without thinking.

"Well, yes. That, too. But I meant your writing." Julian sipped his water, and I loved watching his throat move as he swallowed it. "I've been reading your stories for the newspaper. In the digital version, of course."

"You have?" He hadn't mentioned anything about my stories before, not even when I would complain about certain assignments to him.

"I check for updates nearly every day." Julian gripped my fingers. "I'm always interested in what you have to say. Plus, it's been a different experience finding music suggestions through your columns."

"Find any new material that you like?" I inquired, flattered by his diligence and thoughtfulness. Little things like that were all the proof I needed, to know that he loved me.

"Yeah, quite a few have made their way onto my mobile." He chewed one of the last remaining pieces of tenderloin from his plate.

"I still need to put your songs on my phone," I admitted. "I've just been playing the CDs in my car."

"Oh, I've been meaning to tell you..." Julian wiped his mouth. "We've finalized our set list for the tour, finally."

"Have you?" I set my utensils down to listen intently.

"We have." Julian stretched his arms out behind his head. "'Endlessly' is on the set list. I had to fight pretty hard to get it on there."

My insides were ablaze with happiness. I tried not to let pride overtake me.

"Tommy and I both wanted to play it," he explained without my prodding. "It's different from our regular set... the minor progressions, the harmonized vocals and guitar leads, the crescendo into the big finale. But Mason and Devon didn't really think it was a good idea to play a ballad when our set is only an hour and a half. I'm of the opinion that it doesn't matter—it's still a massive tune."

I took it more personally than I should have. It was only a song, and them not wanting to play it was not an indication of any disrespect towards me. My sensitivity made me feel ridiculous sometimes. At least I recognized my absurdity.

"Jesse didn't mind either way. So, Tommy and I convinced him, on the basis of he'd have less work to do, for that one song, while on tour." Julian laughed. "Three to two, we won."

"So all those people..." I imagined the enormous crowds, swaying.

"Will hear your song," he finished the thought.

"Your song," I revised his words.

"Our song," he settled, and I agreed.

After dinner, we followed the flicker of huge, red candles lining either side of the walkway back to the villas. We were far enough away from the other resort guests to not hear them at all, and thankfully, they wouldn't hear us.

"Do you really want to go swimming again?" Julian slipped into his completely dry trunks on the dark deck. "What's that they say, about needing to wait a half hour, to avoid muscle cramps?"

"I don't think I'll drown in a six-foot pool." I hooked a towel around my neck and walked past him. "Besides, you don't have to swim if you don't want to. I'm perfectly fine to swim alone."

"If you're swimming, I'm swimming," he stated, as if it were the most basic fact.

With my side turned to him, standing tall with a slightly arched back, I pulled my hair into a ponytail. Just then, I noticed a flash behind me. Julian stood there with his phone, snapping pictures of me.

"You look like an absolute goddess right now." He shrugged. "Can't blame me."

"Ahuh, sure." I lay my towel over the white cushions of the sun couch, just by the infinity pool. "What time is it, anyway?"

"Half-ten," he said, checking his phone screen.

I dipped my toes into the pool, to test its temperature. Without the sun, the air was naturally cooler by nightfall, so the water was chilly, but not unbearably so.

"How is it?" he asked, and I spotted my opportunity for a little bit of revenge over the sneaky, stolen photos... and his recently excessive joking about my Italian heritage.

"Really nice. You should come in." I slowly entered the pool, acclimating myself to the temperature an inch at a time.

Julian set his phone down on the bed and walked through the open glass doors to the pool. He stood on the edge and I reached for his hand with a deceivingly innocent smile. By the time he caught onto my sly intentions, I was already pulling him in. His body splashed into the cool water, as excess liquid flowed over the corners to be recycled back into the pool.

"Shit!" He laughed when his chin was above the surface again. "It's so damn cold!"

"It's not that bad." I swam to the furthest edge of the pool, overlooking the ocean beneath us, and the stars above us. A small, white bench was built into the pool at the end, to make marveling at the magnificent views that much easier.

"It is, I'll catch a chill," he said, pretending to shiver.

"Well, now we're even." I smiled at him. "But you should get out of the water and go warm up. I'll be inside shortly."

"No, I'll tough it out." Julian swam over to the underwater bench with me and sat down. "What's better than a late night dip under the stars?"

Spotlights along the inside of the pool walls, as well as along the walk-bridge, and even on the stilts below, made it easy to see everything outside. These weren't even the things that dreams were made of, since the greatest imagination could never depict, behind closed eyelids, what beauty truly existed before us.

Fish gathered around below, attracted to the lights in the ocean water, and we gazed over the pool's edge to watch and listen. The noise of soft water ripples gently crashing in the nighttime was the second greatest sound I had ever heard.

"I've been thinking," Julian said with an inflection.

My heart dropped at the expectation of bad news. "What about?"

"My parents." His tone was flat.

Yeah, definitely bad news, I thought.

"I was thinking, maybe I could, I don't know." He rested his elbow on the edge of the pool and stared out into the dark Indian Ocean. "Maybe I could try to find them or something."

My heart fluttered. Part of me was ecstatic that he was even open to the idea, while the other part went into immediate defensive mode, eager to protect him from any supposed danger.

"Really? What brought this on?" I made sure to tread softly around the subject.

"It's just that, now that I've made something of myself, I think I could face them." He waved one hand as he spoke. "I think I would have the confidence, now that I've a bit of success, and I could get some answers to questions that have haunted me for years."

"Have you ever tried to find them before?" My heart was pounding.

"No, never." He shook his head, and tiny water droplets fell from his hair onto my forearm. "As I grew older, I grew angrier at them. Jealous of the lives they led, only because I was certain they must've been better than mine. I just figured there was no reason good enough for them to have left me where they did... but now... I'm more curious than angry."

"And you're definitely ready to meet them now?" I asked, wary and unsure.

"I wouldn't say definitely." Julian chuckled. "But I might be willing to try, at least."

"What are their names?" Before that night, I never even thought to ask.

"My file at the orphanage said my mum is Eileen." Chagrin lined his features. "I don't know about my father."

"Do you know where to look, to find that information?" I assumed he couldn't go back to the orphanage—not logically, since he ran away, and not emotionally, considering all of the unspeakable horrors hidden in the walls.

I wondered about, but didn't exactly yearn to hear, the stories I was sure he never told me, from his time there. What I knew already was heart-wrenching enough.

"I haven't a clue." Julian draped his arm around me and sent electric shocks through my nerves. We would always be two bolts of lightning each time our bodies connected. I was sure of that much.

"I can try to help you," I whispered.

I wasn't sure how, but I would have done anything, absolutely anything, to make his life easier. He had already been through more than enough—more than what most people would ever have to endure—and I never wanted him to suffer another day, if I could help it.

"Yeah?" he asked, surprised at my offer. "Okay, Brooke."

"Okay, Jules." My ear rested on his shoulder under the moonlit sky. "I love you."

"I love you so much." He squeezed me into his body.

"How's the water temperature now?" I turned away from the luminous, burning embers of the coal black sky, and focused on the brightest one—seated right next to me.

"Much warmer now." He stared into my eyes knowingly, and secured a rough hand around the small of my back.

"I'm sorry I pulled you in." I ran my fingers through his dripping locks, and felt myself softening under his gaze.

He smirked, with one corner of his mouth turning up. "Want to make it up to me?"

...

We settled into bed with steaming mugs of tea and a plate of chocolate almond cookies—left for us in the villa that day by staff—as Julian counted down the seconds.

"Five." He chewed a cookie, which he insisted was really a biscuit, and skipped a number between bites. "Three. Two. One. Midnight! Happy Christmas, Brooke!"

"Merry Christmas, Jules." I kissed him softer than I ever had before, trying with all of my might to package my adoration for him within the small space of my lips, and send the emotion through our skin.

"I have something for you." He got out of the gigantic bed and ran to the duffel bag on the table, tearing into the zippered side compartment.

"No, no, no." I waved my hands back and forth. "We already exchanged gifts early, remember? No more gifts."

"It's small, I promise." He pulled a little pouch out of the duffel bag. "Here."

Reluctantly, and with guilt weighing heavily on my features, I opened the plain, black pouch and pulled out a flat piece of fabric. When I unfolded it, I found an unstuffed, customized pillowcase. On the front of it was a picture of Julian and me from Disney.

"Just so, when I'm on tour, you don't have to sleep alone," he explained softly.

"You do too much. Too much." I lay on top of his chest and breathed in his scent, mixed with sea salt.

"I had to give you something on Christmas day," Julian reasoned, brushing his fingers through his hair. "Our first Christmas day."

"But I didn't save a gift for you." Tears threatened my eyes.

"You being here with me is my gift." Soft lips brushed against my forehead as he spoke.

I had to do something for Julian. I would figure it out. But in that moment, the sentimentality of the holiday washed through me, and I felt the need to wish my family a Merry Christmas.

"Have you seen my phone?" I asked the boy who was spoiling me beyond recognition. "I want to text my mom and Laina."

His hand searched the bedside table and found my cell. "Here."

A text from Caleb lit up my inbox from the day before. I read it, as Julian looked on. I had nothing to hide from him.

Merry Christmas, Brooke.

"Why is that asshole texting you? I thought you got a restraining order?" His discomfort was palpable.

"I spoke to the police officer, but I haven't gotten the order of protection yet."