Throughout the week, Sam and Mercedes lucked out, relaxing and enjoying their honeymoon with minimal interference from the paparazzi. A couple of days, they did spend a lot of the time walking around, going on tours, bicycling along the beach, and shopping at the local bizarre and markets. Portions of their days were relished out on the waters, but upon Mercedes' demand they spaced out their time having sex.
One entire day was spent venturing the thick green growth with a guide. Upon their hike, their guide led them to a discreetly located lagoon. After getting the "OK" from the guide, Sam grinned at his wife and then jumped from a high ledge wailing a loud, "BONZAI!" Mercedes broke into peals of laughter as his blond head surfaced. He waved a hand to beckon her, "Come on! The water's great!"
"Are you crazy?" she called back, smiling anxiously.
"What? Are you scared?" he taunted, grinning crookedly at her.
She folded her arms but told him, "You better believe I am!"
Saying nothing further, Sam swam to the lagoon's bank, heaved himself out and then walked back up to the place where he'd left Mercedes. He watched her expression turn from amusement to distrust and then she backed away from him and the rocky lip.
"Uh-uh, Sam Evans if you push me in, I swear I'll make you pay."
He simpered and rolled his eyes, "I wasn't gonna do that. I was gonna jump with you."
"Oh," she said, still feeling wary.
"Come on," he repeated softly with his hand out to her. "If you don't like it, we can spend all of our last day going shopping tomorrow."
Mercedes lips quirked with interest, "And if I do like it? Then what?"
"Then we stick to the original plans for the last day."
She bit her lip and then took his hand. Sam gripped it tight to reassure her and then walked up to the edge of the overhang. There were large boulders the seemed to be at the surface, but after Sam's jump, both of them knew it was an illusion. None of the rocks were anywhere capable of endangering them.
"On the count of three. Ready?"
"I think so," she nodded with a dramatic, teeth-bearing grimace.
"One…two…"
Before he could utter the final count, Mercedes bent her knees and launched herself off the cliff; thankfully Sam's reflexes were quick and he jumped less than a second after her. Their splashes overlapped with one another, but—still holding hands—they swam to the surface. Mercedes' head felt weighed down by her thick, soaked hair, but she looked to her husband and beamed a wide, thrilled grin.
Sam smiled back at her, expertly keeping his head and shoulders above water. "So…shopping or original plan?"
"Original plan," Mercedes happily answered.
On their final full day on the island, they decided to rent a pair of jet skis and give themselves a little more freedom on the water than the yacht allowed. Mercedes stood on the dock, clad in white-framed Guess sunglasses and a purple beach dress. She ditched the dress to reveal an apple red, skirted pinup swimsuit.
Sam emerged from the yacht, puckering his lips to wolf whistle at her. He smirked afterward and scooped up her abandoned dress to toss back inside the yacht. "Well, well—this is new," he commented, looking her up and down from behind his aviator shades.
Propping her hands on her hips, Mercedes smiled confidently, "I know. I went shopping after you told me what kind of clothes I'd need to pack. I'm glad you approve of it."
"Yeah, you look sexy as hell," he shamelessly told her before bending his head to kiss her full on the lips. His digits ran over the fabric that hugged her glorious chest close and covered her thick, beautifully curved sides. After his hands explored her torso, he slipped his long fingers around and beneath her wonderfully rounded butt—a favorite spot of his for resting his hands.
When their lips pulled apart, her own eyes did their share of ogling. His constant upkeep with his physique dulled her from feeling shy about staring at him anymore. In high school she struggled to discreetly admire his sculpted abs, but now it was bold, outright staring whenever and wherever she wanted and she never apologized for it anymore. This time, after she gazed at the beauty of his V-shaped torso, his firm six-pack and the delicious divots at his pelvis where his blue swim trunks hung, she held up a hand with her set of fingers spread apart.
"Five stars, Evans." She grinned and he smirked back. It had become an ongoing private compliment; Mercedes' little way of telling him how sexy she thought he was. Other guys—specifically models and celebrities she thought were attractive—would get ratings from her, but Sam was the only one that ever got a 5.
"And you're going down out there," she added, pulling away but leading him towards the jet skis with her hand in his.
Sam scoffed, "You wish. Are you forgetting that water's my element?"
"Then this is about to get a whole lot more embarrassing for you, isn't it?" she countered, wearing an obvious, teasing grin. She let go of his hand as they neared the two jet skis swaying in the water, waiting for them. Having ridden them before, the two were more than aware of how the motored skis worked.
While Sam saddled his jet ski, Mercedes quickly tamed her long hair into a loose braid that resembled a raven-hair Rapunzel. As soon as she finished, she mounted the other jet ski and started the engine.
Right away, as both jet skis idled, Sam asked her, "So then you wanna race?"
"Yep! You're on!"
He shot her a wicked grin before turning his attention to the deeper waters. About two-hundred yards away was the sight of two, bobbing neon orange buoys, spaced out from one another at about the length of a football team. "Alright Benz: we race to the buoy on the left; first one to the buoy on the right wins. If I lose, you have to make dinner tomorrow night when we get home."
Mercedes cupped a hand over her eyebrows to gain better focus on the checkpoints. "And dinner's your responsibility if I win," she decided as an acceptance of his challenge.
Chuckling at her words, he said, "Alright. On your mark—"
"Ohhh no you don't!" Quickly looking around for an impartial person to commence the race, the singer spotted Luka, the yacht attendant, walking out from the luxury boat. "Excuse me, Luka?" she called out, bringing the young male to a halt.
"Can you count us off? We're getting to race," said Sam.
Luka graciously accepted with a nod of his head and counted down from 3. Once he uttered, "1", the volume on Sam and Mercedes' jet ski motors intensified and the two zoomed away from the docks. Water flecked and misted their faces as they cut through the warm, clear Caribbean waters. Both were smiling, but both were pretty determined to win.
Mercedes looked over to see Sam standing on his ski, hunched forward with his hands gripping the handles. His messy blond hair whipped around his forehead, and—even with his sunglasses on—Mercedes knew his gaze was lax but focused. He looked like someone who had been jet skiing his entire life, but she remained close.
Sam veered out to the left while Mercedes guided hers to the right. Both of them made it to the first buoy, grinning as they passed each other by but the two picked up speed once they cleared the checkpoint. Neither one slowed until after they zoomed past the second buoy.
"I won!" Mercedes rejoiced.
"No you didn't!" argued Sam, "I totally beat you!"
Mercedes removed a hand from the ski to deliberately slide her sunglasses down. "Are you kidding me? I kicked your butt, Evans!"
"I think we need an impartial judge again."
As Mercedes started to let her jet ski drift towards his, she looked back to the docks. To their fortune, Luka was still standing out on the dock and appeared to have been watching; their race gained them a little bit of an audience so they took off on the skis to ask who the victor was.
Once they had temporarily docked, Sam hopped off his jet ski and gentlemanly helped Mercedes off of hers. She thanked him and then promptly turned to Luka and their small audience. The others appeared to be local children and teens—some of whom had bright admiring eyes stuck on Mercedes.
"I think you have a fan club here," an amused Sam murmured in her ear.
She grinned up at him, "Good then they'll back me up on my victory."
The amusement faded from Sam's face. Sure enough she was right as they all—including Luka—declared her the winner.
"Yes I do believe Mrs. Evans was the winner," said Luka, having the final word with his thick, French accent.
Mercedes did a little victory dance as Sam wrinkled his nose and stuck his tongue out at her. She mocked an appalled expression and poked the end of his tongue, "Don't be a poor sport. You were a worthy opponent."
Sam shook his head and hooked an arm around her shoulders, "Yeah yeah, whatever you say Mrs. Evans." He smiled a half smile down at her and said, "Come on, we still have a good 45 minutes before we have to turn the skis back in."
After jet skiing, a shower and some cuddle time with a movie, Sam and Mercedes headed off the yacht again to spend the end of their honeymoon by enjoying the St. Lucia nightlife. Mercedes, now dressed in a purple and white zigzag printed kimono dress and sandals, walked with her arm curled around Sam's waist. Sam—clad in Bermuda shorts and a plain white shirt—had his arm draped over her shoulders while gazing admirably upon the street ahead that was full of life. People were lining the streets with conga drums and acoustic guitars in their laps, playing a Latin-reggae fused beat that almost had to be danced to. In fact, the majority of the men, women and children without instruments were already dancing, either alone or in couples. Several people throughout the crowd were wearing colorful multi-piece garbs and matching headpieces; their movements were more choreographed than the others, making them all entertaining to watch.
"Dance with me," Mercedes sweetly requested, stepping backward into the street with her hands tugging his.
Sam chuckled, "Heh, but you know I haven't danced in public like this in a long time."
"So? We're not at a hoity-toity gala, and we're not competing for a trophy. We're just dancing in the street on our honeymoon. Come on, it'll be fun!" she urged with an encouraging smile. Her hands moved his in a pedaling motion as she cha-cha'ed in place.
For a moment he sucked in his bottom lip, feeling enticed by her charming smile and swaying hips, and the high energy radiating all around them. Yet part of him felt unsure if he wanted to bite the bullet and just dance. This was different than competing with boy band moves in high school, or pretending to waltz for benefits—there was purpose behind those. And it was far different from the silly booty shakes and faux Michael Jackson moves he'd bust out in their kitchen while he cooked. No one else was around to see those moves.
His cheeks turned the faintest shade of pink as he shook his head, "No—not tonight, Benz."
"So you got spanked in our race earlier and now you don't wanna dance with me?"
He tried not to smile—and failed miserably, as he asked, "Why'd you have to bring that up? The two aren't even related!"
She stared away from him and shrugged, "You don't want to dance out here with me. It's okay, I get it."
As Mercedes planned, persuading him into dancing by nonchalantly taunting him worked. Sam stepped into the street with her, looking down to copy her cha-cha steps. Once he fell into step with her, he glanced back up at her only to be met with her cheerful smile again. He stared in her eyes—bright and full of joy—and found himself smiling as well. At one point he dared to twirl her around and when she turned back to face him again, she was giggling freely.
Shortly thereafter, the rhythm of the music changed into something a little more upbeat, leaning more toward the Latin than reggae flavor. Mercedes and Sam kept with the tempo, but made up their own dance moves. While they moved, Mercedes felt her elbow get tapped on. She looked down to see one of the little girls from the docks beaming at her with outstretched hands. Appearance-wise she couldn't have been more than five or six years old. Her hair was in several braids with colorful beads dangling, and she was missing one of her front teeth in her wide smile.
The singer smiled affectionately at the little girl and then up at Sam, "Be right back."
Mercedes took the little girl's hands and danced a short distance away with her. The young girl didn't stop smiling the entire time that she had the singer's attention. She was guided through a couple of twirls and mimicked Mercedes' hip shaking and playful fist pumping. Soon, a few other young children joined them, surrounding Mercedes in giggles and dance moves.
Sam stepped back onto the curb and leaned against a nearby building, watching his wife wit adoration. He chuckled a few times, noticing that Mercedes managed to incorporate a few hokey pokey moves with her dance. Eventually an elder woman whom Sam assumed was the first girl's mother, approached with a camera. Mercedes crouched to her level to give the girl and the other children big hugs and then pose beside with them for a few pictures. As the mom prepared to take one picture, another caramel-skinned little girl with two puffs of frizzy black hair atop her head seized Sam's hand. She giggled at him while tugging him back to the street. "Dance!" she commanded.
"Alright," he said with a chuckle. The little girl jumped up and down in a circle and Sam smiled again, admiring her carefree spirit and obvious energy. He opted on the twist and a little bit of hip shaking while complimenting the young girl on her springy dance move.
Mercedes soon returned to her husband, but avoided interrupting the adorable sight of him and the young girl dancing. Her lips curved up when he held her hands, instructed her to stand on his feet, and then performed his own version of the Egyptian walk. The look on Sam's face was so carefree now, and his expert ability to bond with children was enough to make Mercedes' heart want to burst right out of her chest.
When the song ended, everyone in the streets broke into applause, except for the young girl who clung to Sam's waist for a tight hug. Mercedes smiled at her husband's new admirer; after he gave her a hug back, the girl waved a giddy 'goodbye' to him and took off into the crowd. As Mercedes strolled back to him, the live music started up again at a slow, ballad tempo.
Sam watched the exuberant girl wander away until he caught Mercedes in his peripheral vision. When he looked her way, his eyes met hers and he lightly blushed while rubbing the back of his neck. His hand fell away from his nape to welcome her back into his arms.
"She seemed really excited to dance with you," she noted, bringing her hands up to his shoulders to dance.
He was still smiling while he told her, "She was a cute kid. Kinda reminded me of Stacey when she was that little."
That wasn't the first thought that came to my mind, Mercedes thought to herself as they danced. Sure, she could think of several moments she had witnessed where Sam had been that playful and carefree towards his siblings when they were young, but there was something different about him when she watched him dance with that little girl.
Mercedes lowered her gaze, pressing her cheek contently to his chest before he could cast a curious gaze upon her.
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