Felicity shielded her eyes as she stepped onto the little pool deck outside their bungalow. The blistering Bali sun threw diamonds across the surface of the water, dazzling her. It had been like this every day since they'd arrived: searing blue skies, swaying palm trees, the smell of the ocean tickling her nose…

The deck blistered beneath Felicity's feet as she walked to the edge of the pool. Oliver had gone to sleep on a blow up raft in the middle of the water, a Star City Rockets cap pulled low over his face. His board shorts hung dangerously low around his hips.

"Oliver," Felicity said.

Oliver roused himself and tipped the hat out of his face. He frowned up at her. "Why are you still wearing clothes?"

"I can't find any of my bathing suits." Felicity raised an eyebrow. "You wouldn't know anything about that, would you?"

"No," he said, but the corner of his mouth twitched.

"Really? Not a clue?"

"Not a one." His eyes eyes sparkled. Liar, she thought. Felicity narrowed her eyes. "I know what you're doing."

"What am I doing?" he said innocently.

"I'm not going to skinny dip. So you can just give it up right now and tell me where my suits are."

Oliver rolled off the raft and swam frog-like to the side of the pool. Hanging himself off the edge, he wrapped his wet hands around Felicity's ankles. They were cool against her hot skin. A tiny shiver skated up her spine. "No one will see." He pressed a kiss to the front of her calf.

"They might," Felicity said, folding her arms. "I'm not some kind of exhibitionist."

"Oh?" Oliver smiled up at her. "What about the ferris wheel in Portland?"

Felicity felt a little breathless. Maybe because of the heat. Maybe because Oliver had started skating his fingers up and down the backs of her calves, a little higher each time. Maybe because the memory of Oliver's hand pushing between her legs as their cab swung from the top of the Portland ferris wheel, suddenly jumped to the forefront of her mind. Felicity squeezed her eyes shut. "That…that was a one time thing."

"Mhm." He kissed her calf again. "No one will see, Felicity. Come in. The water's fine."

Felicity opened her eyes. Oliver was gazing up at her, his eyes an impossible blue ocean behind inky lashes. "Has anyone ever told you that you're a very devious man?"

Oliver grinned. "I've been called worse." He tugged on her hand. "Come here." Felicity gave in. Crouching down, she took his face in her hands and kissed him. It was strange; every time they kissed the world seemed to pull into focus around her. The sun hot on her back, Oliver's stubble rough beneath her fingers, the sharp smell of his sunscreen— all of it thrown into sharp relief. Felicity let herself melt into the kiss. Oliver tasted like sunscreen and the vanilla chapstick he kept stealing from her purse. He tasted like happiness. He made her feel alive.

After a minute she pulled away and whispered, "If I'm going to skinny dip it's not going to be in a pool."

Oliver's eyebrows shot up. "Oh?"

Felicity stood up and began to walk away.

"Where are you going?" Oliver called after her. Felicity threw him a glance over her shoulder. "To the beach. Are you coming?"

It took him five seconds: he leapt out of the pool, grabbed her by the waist, and threw her over his shoulder. "Oliver!" Felicity gasped. Her sudden peal of laughter was caught by a gust of wind and carried up, up, up to the cloudless sky above.

"I really hope that was a rhetorical question," he said, and he slapped her on the backside.

Some distance away Mrs. Albert Murray-Jones of Chiswick just outside London, let out a little shriek and nearly dropped her binoculars. "Albert! Albert, come here!"

Her husband set down his margarita— not a drink he would have ordered back home, mind you, but here…well, who would know?— and joined his wife at the balcony. "What is it?" he said. "Surely there's no need to scream."

His wife handed him the binoculars and pointed down the beach at something invisible to the naked eye. "I was looking for dolphins and I saw…well, just look…and in plain view of the other bungalows!"

Albert lifted the binoculars to his eyes and almost immediately dropped them again. Far down the beach two young people were frolicking in the turquoise waves; they seemed to have lost their swimming attire. He handed his wife back the binoculars. "I don't know if it counts as 'in plain view' if you have to use binoculars to see them, dear."

His wife ignored this. "Young people these day," she said, pressing the binoculars back to her eyes. "No shame. If their mothers could see them…"

"You could stop looking," Albert pointed out.

His wife waved this away. "That's really not the point, is it! I mean, I never… we really should report them." She was leaning so far over the balcony that any second now she was going to tip over and fall to the sand below. Thankfully, it was a short drop.

"Whatever you like, dear." Albert frowned at the dregs of his margarita. He'd told himself he'd only have the one but something about that young couple's display had awoken a sense of rebelliousness in him that he hadn't felt since his Oxford days. To hell with it. He was going to get another margarita and there was nothing anyone could say about it. "Extra salt this time." He giggled. "And two umbrellas!" All of sudden he felt positively giddy. It was a beautiful day, he didn't have to go back to dreary London for another three days…the world was full of endless possibility.

From very far away he thought he could hear the couple laughing.