The sea was particularly calm that day. The calmest he'd ever seen it. They ran into the water, barely touching the ground, and dove-- shattering the surface like ice. He found her under the lukewarm surf and, emerging, swung her around to face him. They found themselves in a very peculiar situation at that moment. The atmosphere of the day suggested he should instantly try to throw her under the water. The atmosphere of the moment suggested he should kiss her. It was that determining instant you only get once in the infancy of a relationship. The salt clung to her eyelashes and her hair draped, framing her clavicles. She looked at him, their ripples reflecting in her eyes, daring him to make the choice.