Cherry red everything

two hours away from the coast when the summer heat stopped being weather and started being a catalyst

We were still two hours away from the ocean. The road to the beach was an endless stretch of shimmering heat, and the sun was rising almost to the middle of the sky. The clock ticked midday right in our faces. His curls were so wet they stuck to his forehead and his neck like ink strokes. Pearls of sweat opened their path down his throat and disappeared into his t-shirt. I just wanted to lick them up—to taste the salt of his body on my tongue. His whole face was being sun-kissed, turning his cheeks into ripe, crimson apples. God, I wanted to eat them so badly. I felt the wetness between my breasts making my clothes cling to my skin like a second, tighter layer. I wiped my forehead, trying to distract myself from him and from the blistering fever of the road.

The heat of the summer day was unbearable, and the A/C was losing the battle to chill our bodies. I was melting into the seats of the red jeep, my flesh fusing with the leather. I stretched my feet up on the dashboard, trying not to become one with the car. He put his window down, letting the violent rush of hot air and dust come in. He picked up a cigarette from the box near the soda, his movements slow and heavy. I held my wild hair back with a band and turned my sight to the window. My parents didn’t know I was here with him, all alone—and I preferred it that way. I liked to play the “good girl” game with them, but the only moment I felt I truly earned that title was when he said it. When his juicy lips devoured mine and turned them sore, swollen, and cherry red. He treated me well—better than any other guy around me. Maybe it was written in the stars, or in the constellations, that he was made for me and I was made for him.

When we reached the palms near the street, it was the signal that we were close to the beach. At least an hour left. He placed his hand on my thighs by habit—a silent, familiar anchor. Maybe he was excited we were close to our destination; I knew he had been planning this for weeks. But the temperature was making me feel sick. My head was burning, and my whole body was slick with sweat. I reached for the soda and drank it all. Cold drops from the can fell over my chin, traveling all the way to my chest, giving me a sudden, electric shiver of goosebumps. I suggested a break from the long road, maybe to smoke a cigarette and stretch our legs. He wasn’t okay with that at the beginning—he was too excited to arrive—but after a few “please, babes,” he just chuckled with that wicked little smile of his. Damn, he was so gorgeous.

He searched for the perfect spot, and after some stops, he found an old parking lot. He parked the red jeep and turned off the engine, leaving just the music throbbing in the background. He just stayed there, looking at the keys. But I turned first, with a little smirk, challenging the silence. Because he could read my mind or something, he understood why I had suggested the break. He knew I liked to play, but this was different.

“It’s too hot in here, Alex, you could pass out underneath me,” he said, joking with a nervous laugh, but I wasn’t joking at all. The heat of my body had mutated into desire, and that made me need him with a desperation that hurt. I didn’t answer him. I just made my way to the back seat, pushing my body through the narrow gap in one clean move. When I settled, I caught his eyes, daring him to join me. I knew he was naughty, but was he as much as me? Without thinking, he jumped into the backseat. The jeep wasn’t big enough to be comfortable, but that friction turned me on more. The tight space forced us to squeeze our bodies into each other. I could feel myself dripping—my thighs already wet with something other than sweat. I climbed onto his body and placed myself on top. He was about to explode in his pants; I could feel it. Barely holding it together, he moaned against my neck desperately. Maybe he was in pain because of the denim pressing against him, or the weight of my heat over him. Anyway, his moans were liquid nectar to my ears. His hot breath on my neck made me wish he would just bite me like a vampire and drink my soul out. His hands explored my back, clenching into my flesh as if he were trying to mold my body into his own.

And when we managed to take off our clothes—peeling the damp fabric from our skin—our bodies melted into each other like butter. Saliva on our skin, and of course, my makeup was ruined. With a confident stroke, he got inside me. My lips pronounced nothing but his name. He claimed me with a kiss, devouring my taste like it was the only hydration he needed. He was so gentle, but the heat in the car was ascending to a breaking point. The lack of oxygen made him desperate. His hands held me like I could disappear into the steam gathering on the windows. Kanye West was banging through the speakers while he banged me—holding both of my wrists behind my back, pinning me to the moment.

And after a while, we were so close. I felt both of our bodies colliding into something bigger—a cosmic wreck. I was moaning nonsense into his mouth. I didn’t even remember what I murmured—manifesting this forever. More jeep fucking during beach trips. He held my hips tight, keeping me in place. My name came from his lips like a prayer—as if he were praying to his god to keep him sane. He scratched my back when he came undone underneath me. I just sank into him and pressed my body deeper while I rode the aftershock.

We were immobilized, limbs tangled in the backseat. “Goddamn, I wasn’t expecting this on our way to the beach,” he said, taking a strand of hair away from my face. He was breathless, but he didn’t care. He was smiling like a fool. I didn’t know what to say; I was so in love with him already.

“You’re the best thing I’ve ever made,” he whispered, too softly for me to hear. “And I didn’t even make you. I just… found you. And thank God I did.” He continued touching my bare arms with his rough hands. “Fuck, I think I love you,” he said, looking into my eyes and telling the truth. It was as if the car had become a church and the backseat the confessional. I could feel my swollen lips freeze at the sight of him—at the reality of his words. He was totally in love with me. I turned my sight to him and swam in his eyes. Damn, I was so down for him too. Tears burned my eyes. Don’t cry, I reminded myself. Guys don’t like tears after sex. But when the first tear escaped and rolled down my cheek, he drank it with kisses. He cupped my face as if I were made of porcelain. Soft kisses landed on my forehead, giving me comfort. He never hesitated to make me feel better.

After cleaning the mess with the napkins we found in the car and putting our clothes on, the red jeep continued its way to the beach house. Now, SZA was playing on the radio. But I wasn’t looking at him, and he wasn’t looking at me. We were both flushed with a secret glow, with no tongue to speak. My throat was dry—a quiet hallelujah for the lost water bottle on the floor. The silence between us spoke louder than any pillow talk. The moans and sweat still lingered in the air. The sweet smell of our burning bodies was stuck in my nose, and the touch of his hands was etched like bruises into my arms and legs.

But what we didn’t know was that we were just starting a huge thing here. This was the creation of something. A big bang. The first days with the red jeep and our love story. This was the car I wanted to ride forever, and the person who I wanted to ride it with. The red jeep was about to testify to the best relationship I ever had. And ever will.

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