About a month later, with the new year quickly approaching, Kahakai had its yearly employee holiday party. They rented out the event space at the Sheraton in Kaanapali and had a prime rib dinner, award ceremony, and dance party. Ricky was recognized for being employee of the month for September, and being the upstanding coworker that he was, he’d brought an ounce of mushrooms, distributing them to as many of his friends as he could, while taking several healthy doses for himself. He got on the dancefloor and admired Cecilia galloping around to the music like a newborn baby deer. She didn’t exactly dance with him, getting all touchy feely like most of the other couples did, but he was happy to drift to the music with his friends, hopped-up on psychedelics, letting the flashes of LEDs, strobes and colorful wash lights enhance his buzz. After sweating it out for a few minutes, the shrooms began to intensify, so he grabbed a beer and ambled over to the beach for a break, leaving Cecilia to enjoy her carefree moves with the rest of the Kahakai employees. 

He escaped into the darkness, past the walking path, and through an opening in the thick bacopa bushes, whose flowers were glowing an iridescent white in the moonlight. He swiped his hand lightly along the plant, which sent a light tingle through his fingers and up his arm. He took his leather boots and socks off when he reached the sand, dropped them next to a log, and headed towards the water. He rolled his pants up to his calves and walked into the shallows of the ocean, admiring the undulating reflection of the moon on the water. He took out a joint and had a smoke that lightened his head, making him feel like he was drifting towards the glittering dots of stars above him. He might have been standing there for five minutes or half an hour before he heard someone behind him.

“There you are,” Cecilia called out. Her voice was like a warm liquid dripping out of his ears. He turned and saw her silhouette in front of the color-changing lights of the hotel. He wasn’t sure if it was the DJ’s lighting or the drugs that were making the building glow in gradient flashes. 

“What are you doing out here?”

He realized he was still holding the joint, which had gone out halfway through. “Just having a smoke. Enjoying the view.” He tried relighting it, but the wind was being difficult.

“Here,” Cecilia said and cupped her hands around the lighter as Ricky tried again. He admired the soft curves of her face as they lit up against the sparks and flame. He took a drag and handed it to her.

“Thank you.” She took a smoke and handed it back. “It’s beautiful out here.”

“Yeah. I wish I could just jump in the water.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t have a bathing suit.”

“So?” she asked, and after a quick look around slid her dress over her head and tossed it out of reach of the tide. She took the joint back, hit it long and hard, and blew the smoke into Ricky’s mouth before gently licking his lips. She then dove into the glimmering ocean without any further hesitation. Ricky’s smile grew as he followed suit, dropped his pants awkwardly, took his Hawaiian shirt off, tossed his clothes next to hers, and followed her into the water in his briefs. 

“See,” she said. “Easy.” 

He swam under and wrapped his arms around her waist, lifting her as he came up and making her squeal as he kissed her belly and then blew on it. He put her down and she leaned back, her wet body shining like it was plated in silver. He let go of her and floated on his back next to her. He squinted his eyes softly at the stars as they showed off their prismatic glow from trillions of miles away. Ricky’s hand brushed against Cecilias and he grasped it, interlocking his fingers with hers. He felt an electric buzz run through him that warmed him against the coolness of the air and water. He let go and stood up, curling his toes into the sand and admiring Cecilia as if she were a painting. 

“Where did you come from?”

“Huh?” She stood up and closed in on him.

He thought about changing his question to something less cheesy, but couldn’t help himself. He held her by the hips.

“Where did you come from?”

“My mama and papa. Minnesota, but most recently from that party over there.”

She exaggerated the long “o” and “a” in her accent. He always loved when that snuck out of her while she spoke.

He gave her a brief, salty kiss that sent another tingle through his body before blurting out, “I love you,” then clenching his jaw and letting her go. The music from the party and the soft lapping of the waves got louder and louder with every silent moment.

She looked at him, then at the water, and responded, “Mixed feelings,” before diving away, getting out of the water, and leaving him with a sharp stabbing sensation in his chest as he watched her take off her underwear, shake some water off of herself, and slide her dress on.

She walked slowly towards the bushes and sat on a large log of driftwood as Ricky tried to figure out what he was going to do now that he was sopping wet and in his underwear. He took off his briefs and struggled against the sand and water as he put his pants on, hoping no one could see him. He held his shirt as he walked slowly towards Cecilia, staring at his feet.  

“I’m sorry,” she said as he sat down next to her.

“Don’t be.” He wanted to apologize for what he’d said, pretend like he didn’t mean it, like it was just the drugs and booze talking, but that would have been a lie.

They sat in silence as his high darkened. He checked his pocket for the mushrooms. They were still there, but he was done. He wanted a drink. He was wavering between sadness and anger, with an overwhelming confusion that left him staring into the dark distance unexpressively.  

“Wana head back to the party?” she broke the silence, stood up and held her hand out.

“Sure.” He squeezed her fingers lightly, let go, and didn’t stand up. “I’ll be there in a minute. Um, I gotta find my shoes.”

“Okay.” She walked away. “They’re right there,” she said after a few steps, pointing right behind him.

“Alright. Thanks,” he replied without turning to look at her or at the shoes.  

After a few minutes of confused stewing, Ricky headed back to the party, but Cecilia was on the beach path, waiting for him with a towel.

“Where’d you get that?”

“Someone left it by the pool.”

“Thanks,” he said and smiled weakly, not worried that they were dying off with someone else’s used towel. 

“Come on, let’s go dance some more. Are there any mushrooms left?” She unsuccessfully tried to lighten his mood and patch up the crack she’d left in his heart. 

“Here you go.” He gave her the whole bag as he got the sand off his feet and put his socks and shoes on, wondering what he was going to do with the wet briefs he had in his hand.

“Where’s your underwear?” 

“I left it drying on the log back there.”

“Oh,” he replied and tossed his underwear in a trash can. 

Back at the party, Cecilia was back to her normal, carefree self, barefoot on the dancefloor, hair still wet, dreadlock whipping about as she danced with everyone around her. Ricky went to the bar, ordered two beers, and sat back down at their table, trying his best to pretend like none of that had just happened. 

Still, he was left in his own head, more than a little confused for the rest of the night and into the following morning. He reasoned that maybe he’d said it too soon, too abruptly, and that maybe what he felt was really just infatuation. It was something that he admittedly was still having trouble differentiating from actual love. 

She could tell he’d grown distant, quiet, and less enthusiastic for the rest of the night. Their friend gave them a ride to her place, and she invited him to stay over, but he took the slow forty-five minute walk back to his ohana as he came down off the shrooms.

They worked together the next evening, and he did his best not to act like he was avoiding her, especially since they were in adjacent sections. He brushed his feelings aside with his gleaming hospitality and excellent service. 

“You gonna get a drink tonight?” she asked as the last tables were finishing up and closing side work was getting done. 

“I don’t think so. I kinda overdid it last night.”

“Can I come over?”

He looked at her with sad eyes. She met them with her dark, hypnotic orbs that he could never resist.

“Sure,” he agreed and gave her a weak smile.

At his place, they sat next to each other in his hammock, sipping beers quietly. 

“I’m sorry about last night,” she broke the silence.

“There’s nothing to be sorry about. You were just being honest, and I appreciate that.”

“I just get weird when that word gets thrown around,” she admitted.

“I get it.” 

“It’s also kinda hard for me to express myself and understand what other people are really saying when there’s so much emotion goin’ on.”

“Yeah.” 

“Plus we were both really high.”

“It’s ok, you don’t have to keep explaining yourself.”

“I know I don’t have to, but I feel like I should.”

“Should’s a dirty word.”

“Okay. Not should. I want to.” She held his hand. He squeezed hers gently.

“All I want you to know is that I have no reason to lie to you,” he explained. “Plus I’m an awful liar. You’ll see my smirk from miles away. I’ve never been good at it.”

“I don’t think you’re lying, Rick. I just…” That was the first time she’d called him Rick. He didn’t like it. Wary of the direction the conversation was heading, he stood up and grabbed another beer from his fridge. He offered her one.

“Sure,” she took a long drink to finish the one she already had.

He tossed her a fresh one, opened his, drank half of it in one big gulp, and started packing a bowl. 

“I just don’t think everyone has the same understanding of that word,” she continued. “Like, it means more to some than to others.”

“Love means everything to me. It’s what brought me here.”

Well, his love for surfing had, anyway. And while by that point it was undeniable that he sincerely loved Alicia, it had definitely been a lustful infatuation, not love, that had initially drawn him to her from five thousand miles away. Maybe that was the confusion Cecilia was referring to. He loved her, Alicia, surfing, Maui, music, and his own independence, all in different ways. He finished his beer way too quickly, not wanting to have to admit any of that.

“I love you too, Ricky,” she said finally. 

Her saying those words to him didn’t have the overwhelming effect he thought it would, or make him as elated as he felt he would have been if she’d said it the night before, but like a child being given the toy he wanted, he was left partially content knowing that she loved him too, whatever it was she meant by that.