We spent our days at the beach lounging and swimming, our evenings dancing and laughing in the village, and our nights in my cabin. While Jared and I swam in the clear water on Wednesday afternoon, the clouds rolled in. The waves were soon the largest we’d seen since our arrival and when we had to dive into the water regularly to keep from getting pummeled, Jared carried me back to the shore.

As soon as he stepped onto the sand, the rain began to fall. I looked up to the sky and smiled. The light, warm rain was a welcome change from the sharp, icy downpours of Providence. Jared and I raced to my casita—which he allowed me to win—and we parted ways to wash off the salt water in our respective huts.

Jared hadn’t returned when I slipped on a pair of white canvas pants and a pink tank top, so I walked to his cabin in my bare feet. I could hear his music as I approached; I thought that he might still be in the shower, so I knocked on the wooden border of his screen door.

“Come in, Nina,” Jared chuckled. “You don’t have to knock.”

Jared relaxed with his back against the wall, lying on top of his perfectly-made bed. He was scribbling in a thick, brown book. The screen door whined as I stepped inside, and several small lights caught my attention. Monitors and electrical equipment lined one side of the room.

I raised an eyebrow. “You brought a stereo?”

He shrugged. “I take it everywhere.”

“You couldn’t have brought an mp3 player?”

“I can’t have music blaring in my ears while I’m working.”

I crawled in bed beside him and he pulled me closer. “I thought you could hear me over a stadium full of people?”

Jared wrinkled his nose. “Okay, you caught me. I don’t like the way those things feel in my ears.”

I bit my lip and leaned into his ear. “But I thought you liked things touching your ears,” I whispered, brushing my lips along the ridge of his ear. He pressed his lips firmly against mine and in the same second, I was flat on my back. His reaction seemed automatic, and I was suddenly hopeful that his weakness was my best chance at changing his mind about waiting.

Just as I settled against him, he pulled away.

“Your lips are different than a pair of hard plastic speakers. Now behave yourself,” he smiled.

“Sorry,” I said unconvincingly, nestling in the crook of his arm. Listening to the rain tap out a soft song on the roof, I closed my eyes and smiled. It was the first time I had ever been glad for it to rain on vacation.