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the luau?” she asks as he finally pulls away.
    “About an hour. We should get ready and head over. I still can’t believe how late our flight was.” Alex peels out of his T-shirt and smooths his hands over a dress shirt from his bag. He has light stubble from head to navel accentuating every dip and curve of his firm body.
    Monica watches, feeling bad about cutting him off. Look at that sexy man. How can I push that away? “Do you remember when I first saw you without a shirt, after college?”
    He laughs. “Yeah, you were shocked at my chest hair.”
    “I wasn’t shocked, I just remembered you completely smooth.”
    “That’s cause I was a kid.” He looks down and flexes his chest. “I remember your eyes lit up when you touched me too.”
    Monica walks over and runs her hand across his pecs, much larger than they were all those years ago. His body is lean muscle and all man now. She leans in to deliver a passionate kiss, his breath heavy with anticipation. She finds his soft lips and tugs, grasping the soft short hairs in her fingers. He wraps his huge arms around her and takes over, pulling her body close. Just as they start to ramp up he pulls away to catch his breath. He doesn’t look her in the eye as he resumes throwing on his shirt. It’s obvious he needs control, so she gives him space and unpacks while the room cools.
    “Wonder if they do anything special for Thanksgiving here?” he says.
    “They add turkey and pumpkin pie to the menu.” She suddenly feels a little embarrassed adding, “I looked it up.”
    He melts, loving her constant curiosity. “Sounds great.”
    “I was a little sad by it actually. We’re in Hawaii, you’d think people would rather stick to their traditional food?”
    “I’m good with all of it, except poi. That shit’s gross, but otherwise, I’m not gonna worry about carbs or junk while we’re here. I just want to relax and enjoy.”
    “It’s a deal.” She playfully offers her hand to shake, but he kisses the top and then slides his fingers into hers. Alex pulls her out of their room towards the elevator.
    “I love how sweet the air smells!” she says. “I’m sure that’s why everything is open here.”
    Alex’s wavers when the elevator doors open to a couple in full honeymoon make-out mode. He doesn’t move to get in, but Monica laughs and tugs him inside. The couple giggle as they grope and kiss in the corner, ignoring their company. Monica sees the guy’s fingers curve around her tan butt cheek and dive into her bikini. The jolt of the cab settling to the ground floor snaps her forward towards Alex’s crooked smile. The stainless steel doors reflect a distorted version of the unmistakable activity. The woman’s hand stirs inside the man’s board shorts as the doors open. Their existence is erased by the plumeria breeze and the tug of Alex’s hand towards the hotel entrance.
    “We’re the old married couple now,” she says.
    “That’s okay. That’s what I signed up for.” He kisses her temple before handing the valet their ticket.
    They’re both quiet on the short drive to the Marriott. Their heads bob to the Common Kings on the local reggae radio station as they drive under the canopy of monkey pod trees and swinging palms. This isn’t their first luau by any means, but Alex thinks of Thanksgiving as a gorge yourself silly holiday so it’s fitting that he made reservations. There’s something comforting about sitting amongst so many families though. Over the years their Thanksgiving has gone from a couple of relatives packing into their tiny house to everyone making excuses about travel and life, leaving it to just the two of them.
    The first round of mai tais are delivered and Alex raises his plastic cup. “You make a toast babe.”
    She stirs the cherry and pineapple around in the glass thinking. “To an entire day without you mentioning your disgust for flip flops.” She laughs expecting him to laugh too but barely gets a grin. He