Lelani's warmth is still drawn up against me, sheets strewn messily over the two of us as the sun's golden rays sweep through the bedroom. My eyes stare and watch the rise and fall of her chest, a smile beginning to tug against my lips as I take in her agape mouth and the teeniest snores that come from it. I've let her sleep in this morning because I knew the wild thing would need some extra rest after how much alcohol she consumed last night. My fingers can't help but trickle against her tanned skin because I simply can't get enough of her even after spending the whole night with her in my arms. I notice her begin to stir, and I give up on my gentle touch because queens need their beauty sleep, especially hungover ones.

As quietly and carefully as I can manage, I sneak out from underneath the covers, tucking her in more snuggly before I quickly slip on some clothes and tiptoe down the stairs. The rest of the house is already alive, the smell of coffee and eggs wafting through the air.

"Murphy, you're about to make your own damn eggs if you don't stop your yapping," Alana huffs just as I step into the kitchen.

"I'm just trying to show you what my Momma used to do," he defends his case, snatching the spatula out of her hand. "You gotta flip it fast so that the middle doesn't get all hard n' shit. I like em' wet...if you know what I mean-"

She gags, snatching her plate from the counter and leaving him to his own devices. "I'm gonna throw up." Her eyes meet mine and she orders, "Get a hold of your dog, Brodie."

"Sorry," I laugh, "You know what they say... strays can be the hardest ones to tame."

"Stray?" She scoffs, cutting her eyes back to his disheveled red hair. "More like rabid."

"Y'all need to quit picking on me," he sulks.

"Then stop making it so easy for us. You ask for it every time you speak," Delk's voice muffles from the kitchen table, his mouth full of food. His gaze falls onto me, a playful glint beginning to rise in his eyes. "Where's your girl this morning, huh?"

"Still sleeping," I smile, her quiet snores playing in the back of my mind. "Do your parents have some Tylenol stashed somewhere in here, Alana?" I ask, beginning to peek through the overhead cabinets. "Pretty sure she's gonna need some."

"In that drawer to your right," she points from the kitchen table. I draw two small white pills from the medicine bottle and she asks, "You two have any plans for today?"

Yeah, plan C.

"Oh, they've got plans alright," Murphy answers for me, chuckling like an idiot from the stovetop. "Plans to get it the freak on all day long."

"Seriously, does this dog ever stop yapping?" Alana rolls her eyes, but I can see the smile she's fighting too hard to hold back.

"Give the poor thing a pet and see," Delk quips, nudging her with his elbow, and making us all laugh.

Flippling his over-easy eggs from the pan onto a plate, Murphy clicks off the stove, carrying his food over to the table and plopping down into the seat right next to Alana. Playfully, he rests his head onto her shoulder and begs her with whines. "Yeah, give me a pet and see."

"I hate you boys," she grits through a forced scowl, kicking both of their seats further away from her. "Back to the original question," she says, redirecting the conversation, "Plans? Cause the three of us are scheduled to spend the day at Hiro's Grill and cure our hangovers with some more alcohol."

"I was just going to see where the island takes us today," I shrug, not really caring to make any solid plans as long as they involve Lani. "You mind if I steal her from you for the day?"

Her eyes look me over and she gives me a big grin, teasing back, "I suppose I could allow it."

"Sweeeeet," I hiss out, already excited for the day even though I haven't got the slightest clue of what we're going to do. "You sure you can handle these two on your own?" I ask, motioning my finger between Murphy and Delk.

"Oh, please," she snorts. "I've got these buffoons handled."

Giving my friends a serious stare, I warn through gritted teeth, "You two better act right. My girlfriend will be at your throat if you don't take care of her best friend."

"Aye, aye, sir," Delk salutes, shoving another forkful of breakfast into his mouth. "But I'll do it for Lelani, not you."

I pivot on my heel, starting to head back up the stairs and get ready for the day but Alana's voice stops me one last time, "And you better take care of my chicka today!"

"Always," I holler back, a childlike excitement rushing through me as I sprint up the stairs, taking the steps two at a time.

༄༄༄

Lani's footsteps interrupt the quiet of the beach house as she strolls into the living room where I've been waiting, her curls still wet from the shower. A familiar oversized, graphic T-shirt hangs over her shoulders, tucked inside the band of her high-waisted denim shorts. I cut my eyes all the way down her legs, taking in every single inch of her, even including her white, lace-up sneakers.

"I hope you don't mind," she smirks, tugging against her baggy shirt- my shirt- and drawing my attention up to it. "Apparently my tops grew legs and ran away because there were none to be found in my suitcase."

"I don't mind at all," I nod enthusiastically with widened eyes, pleased at the sight of her in my clothes. I really love it when she wears my damn clothes, and immediately, I suggest, "They should do that more often."

"I'll make sure to relay the memo to them."

"Ready to go?" I raise from the couch, offering out my hand for her to take.

"Mhmm," she nods, lacing her fingers into mine. I lead us out of the front door, steering us to the garage that sits on the side of the house. "What do you have on the schedule for us today, jarhead?"

"Plan C of course," I chime back.

"Right, Plan C," she smiles, that dimple of her's appearing as we reach the garage. "Which is?"

"Well, I got a little nosey while you were getting ready and found these," I announce, yanking against the handlebars of the garage door and swinging it open briskly to reveal the two bicycles that wait for us behind it. Her face lights up, making my chest warm and I propose, "Thought we could take them for a ride and explore a little bit?"

"Really?" She beams, leaning in all captivated as her eyes give them a thorough look over. "Tires and everything are set to ride? They've been sitting in here for years."

"Yep," I grin, crossing my arms against my chest with contentment. "Filled them up with air and checked the brakes. They're good to go."

"Hell yeah," she hoots, taking the handlebars of the baby pink cruiser bike into her hands as she clambers onto its seat excitedly. "I haven't ridden in years!"

I stay planted in the garage, watching her as she begins to take off down the black asphalt of the driveway. Her face is lit up with delight as she pedals, the spokes of the two wheels spinning faster and faster as she speeds off towards the gate. She stops for a moment, twisting her head back in my direction, "Well? You going to join me or not?"

Quickly, I hop onto the green bicycle that is left, feeling competitive as I zoom after her and challenge her to a race. "First one to the end of the driveway, wins!"

I'm in the lead now, pedaling as hard as I can to stay ahead of her and she hollers after me, "Wins what?"

"Navigating rights!" I shout, darting my head back to gauge the advantage I have over her as we near the edge of the property. A guilty pleasure rises in me as I look because there's no way those short legs are going to beat me.

I slam on the bicycle breaks, stopping and hitting the line where the driveway meets the road a good six seconds before Lani does. Teasing her once her bike meets beside mine, I chastise, "You gave it your best effort and that's what matters."

"Screw you," she pants, a competitive sweat already starting to bead her forehead. "That's what I call long-legged privilege."

"Is island girl jealous?"

"You wish," she rolls her eyes and smiles, faltering my balance a little on the two-wheeler as she gives me a puckish shove. "Now take your damn prize and lead the way, Michigan boy."

"Aye, aye, ma'am!"

"And you better not get us lost!"

"I can't make any promises."

The wind feels amazing as we cruise down the backroads, our bikes weaving together as we zig-zag down the muddy, grass-lined trails. My eyes keep a lookout for signs, catching glimpses of one every few miles and using them as my guide to navigate the tropical and foreign landscape. We take most of the ride in silence, enjoying the sounds of the ocean that surround all sides of the land and the beauty of the lush Molokai mountains. Lani's hair trails in the wind behind her, the sun shining down on her long black curls.

Our whole day is spent like this, the wheels of our bikes spinning down every trodden path we cross, the excitement of our undecided and unknown destination carrying us further along the island. The moments that we do get lost in conversation, Lani tells me about the significance of the land, sharing with me the importance of the Hawaiin culture but how tourism has gradually deprived the beauty of its sacred grounds, customs, and practices. I listen as she explains the way the islands used to be united as one, independent, and self-sustaining, but how the United States invaded, forced Queen Liliʻuokalani off her throne, and stole the land. And listening to her talk so passionately about a part of her heritage makes me admire her even more. Everything about this girl, down to her very core, is engaging.

"Hey, look," I say, popping off the seat of my bike and peering my head over the hill ahead of us. A small strip of colorful buildings show themselves more and more the further we pedal, and my aching stomach is relieved when my eyes catch sight of smoke billowing from the green, flat-roofed dining establishment in the middle. My nose inhales the savory smell wafting through the air, making my mouth water and my stomach growl. "You hungry?"

"Very," she nods, pedaling faster as she speeds straight towards the restaurant.

We lean our bikes against a vacant bench outside, and head inside, immediately greeted with "Aloha"s and warm smiles as we walk through the doors. We're quickly seated and I tell Lani to order anything she wants. Within 30 minutes our table is full of steamy plates of food and we take turns reaching over and stealing a bite from each other's dishes.

Lani's chopsticks dip into my poke bowl, swiping up a mouthful of rice and meat and shoveling it into her mouth.

"What's the food like in Michigan?" She wonders out loud, her words slightly muffled from the huge bite she just took.

"American," I chuckle, plopping a sushi roll into my mouth. "Food is way better here."

"Maybe," she shrugs, "but what were some of your favorites from back home? You know, just so I can be aware when I go to visit someday."

"Well," I grin like a stupid fool because the idea of taking her with me back to my hometown has me excited. "Mackinac Island is a little bit of a drive but has some of the best fudge I've ever tasted in my life. And Traverse City is the cherry capital of the world, so," I say, tilting my eyebrows and giving her a wink, "if you like cherries we can go there. Oh, and a Coney Island hot dog! You're definitely trying one of those."

"A Coney Island hot dog?" She giggles, squinting her eyes at me questioningly. "Is it just a plain old hot dog?"

"Lelani Kahale" I gasp, my mouth hanging agape. "Please don't insult a Coney Island hot dog like that ever again. It isn't just a plain old hot dog. It's perfection smothered in chili and mustard and onions and will give you the worst heartburn in your life, but it's worth it."

Her nose wrinkles, "That sounds disgusting! Why would you put yourself through that kind of torture?"

"Baby, it ain't torture. It's bliss; cruel but delicious bliss."

"Whatever you say," she laughs, taking a sip of water and cutting her eyes over the glass. Drawing the cup from her lips, she smirks, "I won't be kissing your onion breath, Michigan boy."

"Oh, yes you will," I fire back, "and you'll enjoy it too."

"Nope," she refuses, shaking her head adamantly. "Absolutely not."

"Fine. I guess I won't help you build that snowman of yours, then," I shrug and she grumbles. "What was his name again?"

"She," she corrects me with glaring eyes. Lani struggles to hide her rising smile as she huffs under her breath, "And her name was Snow-angela..."

"Right," I nod, remembering it all again and teasing her some more, "That's unfortunate, I was really looking forward to meeting her."

"You suck," she groans, flicking a pineapple at my head and making us both lose it as it smacks me dead in the face. Our laughter reduces and Lani's eyes soften, her head cocking to the side as she asks another question, "What else is there in Michigan?" And I fucking love that she's so intrigued by a plain old state outside of the island, making me more than happy to answer all of her questions, even if she has a million. "Can you surf there?"

I think about it for a second, and with a smirk rising, I finally answer, "Yeah, actually, you can. I had a few buddies in high school who'd drive up to the Great Lakes every so often to catch some waves. We'll just have to find you something a little warmer than those bikinis of yours when we go."

"Okay," she happily agrees, and I stare at her, imagining her dressed in a full-body wetsuit, her rowdy curls peeking out of the hood, and her nose red from the cold. And now I'm thinking about her in the ankle-deep snow, arms and legs working hard on the ground to make a snow angel.

Interrupting my thoughts, she adds, "When you going to take me, Maverick?"

I'm a second away from answering her question when our waitress approaches our table with the bill, distracting and putting an end to the hopeful conversation for now. We stroll out of the restaurant, our bellies much fuller than when we first walked in, and hop back onto our bikes. The sun is setting in the sky, but its warmth still lingers in the air and we decide to take the scenic route back, knowing our way around a lot better after venturing all day long.

Oceans swell in the valleys of the green mountains we pass, their waves crashing onto the pebbled and rocky shores of the beaches. The evening breeze whistles through the palm trees, our journey back to the beach house growing darker as the shade of tropical foilage begins to cover the roads. We're only about half a mile away from the front gate when I feel wetness fall against my arm. I wait for a second before allowing myself to jump to conclusions, but Lani looks over at me, and sure enough, more droplets start to hit my skin.

"Oh no," she laughs as the rain grows heavier, and makes everything ahead of us start to blur from the thick curtain of rainfall now pouring from the sky.

"Go! Go!" I shout as my chest shakes with laughter, conjuring us both to pedal faster to reach shelter before our entire bodies are soaked. Unfortunately, our increased speed doesn't help us a damn bit and we're completely drenched by the time we reach the end of the driveway.

The tires of our bikes screech to a stop in front of the garage, but we don't even bother putting them inside, permitting them to crash into the ground as we jump off of our seats and start our dash to get inside. Water drips from the ends of our hair, chins, fingers, and clothes, saturating the wooden deck of the front porch as Lani presses against the door and tries to shove it open.

"You've got to be kidding me!" She cackles, still trying her damn near hardest to get it open. "It's locked!"

"Come on," I call out over the roar of the rain, pulling her with me as I run around the house and into the backyard.

"Careful," Lani urges as our feet hit the grass, but her warning doesn't come fast enough and in an instant, my feet are pulled right out from under me. I land on my back onto the mucky ground, mud caking the whole backside of my body. I feel it everywhere as I sit up and fling some sludge off of my hands, taking in the degree of dirt still stuck on me despite the shower of rain coming down on us.

Lani snorts with laughter, and I scowl, digging my fingers into the earth and pulling up a good chunk of mud in my hands. Immediately, I hurl it at her, my ears satisfied with the smack it makes as it lands on her chest and splatters up onto her face.

"Brodie!" She scorns me, the rest of her frozen in place as her eyes look down at her soiled shirt in disbelief.

"Oops."

Now her eyes are back on mine, the glare they're sending me sharp enough to cut. In one movement, she bends down and grabs her own handful, launching it right at my head and coating my hair and forehead in mud.

"Oops," she shrugs, trying so hard to keep herself from bursting into laughter.

"That's it," I grit through my teeth, bolting off of the grass and charging right for her. She squeals bounding towards the back door to run away from me, but I quickly catch ahold of her wrist and yank her back towards me.

"Please," she tries begging one last time through breathless laughter, but I don't feel a single ounce of remorse for her anymore. She's getting it.

I scrape the wet dirt from my forehead, holding her body in place as I smear it across her face and coating nearly every inch of it. She winces at its slimy texture, and she is so fucking mad but I can't stop myself from laughing at her muddied frown.

"Stop laughing," she orders, but I can't take her seriously with the mess on her face.

"Here," I chuckle, still trying to catch hold of my breath as I slip my shirt off and bunch up the clean side for her to use. I wipe her off with the damp fabric as best as I can manage but her disapproving stare is still there.

"You're sleeping on the couch tonight, jarhead," she grunts, stomping the rest of the way towards the back door.

"Get your ass back here," I chuckle, following after her.

"No," she argues, reaching for the handle.

"Yes," I retort, turning her towards me and pitching her up into my arms. And her smile is back again as her legs wrap around my waist, her hands clutching onto the bare skin of my back as I press my body against her, leaning her back into the door.

Her breaths are shaky and hot, coated with adrenaline and lust as I inch my mouth to her neck. Nestling into it, I trail kisses up to her ear, smiling as I hear a small moan escape the back of her throat.

"You really want me to sleep on the couch?"

She takes a gulp as my lips meet against her skin again, and I can feel the rapid pulse in her neck as I trail more kisses against it. My white t-shirt sticks to her chest like a second skin, and her hardened nipples press against the now sheer fabric making the muscle in my pants grow harder as I struggle to pull my eyes away from them. She untucks the soaked top from her shorts, leading my hand, that isn't holding her up, underneath it to her breast.