It was almost six o'clock by the time they made it to the shore and by then most of the teenage beach crowd had drifted back to their hotel rooms to prepare for the night's debauchery. The ones that were left were older people, married couples and sweethearts who strolled down the golden beach hand in hand.
"Wanna go for a swim?" Michael asked as they settled their stuff on the sand.
"Aren't there sharks?" she asked, kicking herself mentally for sounding like a seven year old. He grinned.
"None that I've seen." He lifted his shirt over his head and his tattoo was almost gloomy in the dimming light. She reached forward to touch it and he flinched.
"I'm sorry," she said.
"It's not your fault," he shrugged, "I just, I….I hate it."
"Michael…" He looked up to the sky with a sadness and anger that broke her heart.
"I knew what I was doing when I was doing it, but now…I just wish it would wash away," Michael looked down, "I just want to be normal again." She wrapped her arms around him and put her chin on his chest.
"Normal is overrated."
"How can you say that?" Sara pressed her lips against his gently.
"Trust me, I can."