After a few hours, the road led inland from the coast, and Rob told Toni about a detour to a spectacular waterfall.
"Cool. I need to stretch my legs."
Toni ran ahead to the viewing platform. The forest above them was littered with rags of mist, but the air down in the valley was thick and humid. Bird and insect chatter performed a descant over the bass rush of the falls. When Rob caught up, Toni played a fashion model, all pouting lips and thrust hips. He snapped around her.
Their hands almost touched as they gripped the balustrade, and they stared down at the foaming water long enough to become uneasy with being together and alone. Rob made a show of slapping at the sand flies that commingled their blood. Their growing discomfort was eased at last by the squeal and hiss of a bus arriving. Stiff, blinking tourists stepped out and politely but surely nudged Rob and Toni apart and away from the centre of the viewing platform.
The tourists showed off their innate knowledge of the right spot and took turns in photographing each other in the same position. The male of a young couple broke away and climbed down to the river to contort himself into a casual pose on a rock. His partner aimed the camera, and he broke into a wild laugh, flailing his arms and legs. Across the platform, Rob caught Toni's eye. She must have known what he was thinking: Please let him fall in, not seriously injured, of course, but soaked and put in his place. The dowdy partner snapped her peacock mate who checked the screen, then clambered unembarrassed, unsmiling back up and into the group.
"Let's go." Toni pressed Rob's forearm. This was the first time since their clumsy handshake at the airport he'd felt her touch on his bare skin. Now the contact was intimate and lovely for him. He wished she'd touched him like this ten thousand times before; he wished for ten times as many more touches in the future.