A week with our college friends Brian and Joyce was always fun, no matter where, a time to catch up on our doings and compare notes on classmates. Our annual double date, as Joyce called it. Our half-price date, according to the guys, as we’d split a rental.

In Bermuda, we’d set off for a restored mansion and ended up downing free rum at a sales pitch. Todd and Joyce would take off at the crack of dawn to find shells, and Brian and I, still in our PJs, would meet in the kitchen at a more reasonable hour and sip coffee until the beachcombers returned.

I’d at first felt a little awkward that at night, we’d hear the other two, and probably them, us, but it wasn’t like we mentioned it.

This year: Orcas Island. I’d thought it being in the San Juans, Strait of Juan de Fuca, we’d chosen another place in the West Indies or maybe the Caribbean, but they’d said that this would be just as great, the State of Washington just being a bit cooler.

Todd and Joyce wanted to stand at the ferry prow to look for whales. Brian and I headed for the galley, Washington being the home of Starbucks. In a galley, you sit where you find space, and for us, it was across from a couple from Salt Lake. Friendly folks who apparently missed that our wedding bands didn’t match, as “The San Juans are for lovers,” they told us, big smiles, quoting a poster next to the ferry schedule. “Too cold to swim. Got to stay warm, though.” Mormons have lots of kids.

That was fine with me — not swimming, I mean — as I needed to lose a few pounds. As for the “for lovers,” I thought that was Virginia, but I smiled to be social.

Brian’s knee was against mine as we chatted, galley tables being small, memories of Bermuda, actually. The four of us had gone dancing, a double date, so to speak. Todd and Joyce were into reggae; Brian and myself, more into watching, and he’d scooted my direction to hear.

Chatting with the Salt Lakers, I’d twisted against him to get my guidebook and he’d not batted an eye at my arm on his. It’s fun to let other vacationers think you’re an item.

When the others joined us-- they’d seen seals, no whales — I introduced our spouses by their first names and got us away before the Salt Lakers noticed whose rings matched whose.

Our rental was perfect! Rustic with all the conveniences. We flipped for the rooms; they got the ocean view and we got the closet. Joyce sat on her bed and it creaked. Ours squeaked. On the wall was a wood-burned plaque saying what the couple on the ferry told us.

Joyce and I changed into sweaters — she’d shed her bra, so same for me.-- and checked out the kitchen. The guys parked our bags by the doorway and worked on which remote remoted what. Boys and their toys. Girls and our is-there-large-skillet?

We’d finish settling in later,, there still being time before dark for a walk down to the beach.

We were in a line, Todd, Joyce, me, then Brian, but for the steep part, we took the closest arm, paired as the Salt Lake couple would have expected to find us. Were the footing shurer, I’d not have held on so tightly.

At the water’s edge, it was Todd, me, Brian and Joyce, four holding hands against Juan de Fuca.

Joyce warned us about the killer whales. Just because they’d seen none from the ferry didn’t mean they’re not out there. I didn’t correct her that they’re Orca — dolphins, actually — but they do kill seals, maybe why their name, but didn’t want to sound like a science teacher.

Joyce pointed seaward. “Those chirps! Probably their mating season.”

it sounded to me more like gulls. Orca mate all year long with multiple partners.

Joyce moved herself to Todd’s other side to see better, and his letting go of my hand left me just holding Brian’s.

Then the other two disappeared. To put on something warmer?

When Brian pulled me his way, it was also to stay warm. That or there might be a sneaker wave. When a gust caught me off+guard, he moved behind to steady my shoulders.

“Not like Bermuda,” he reflected. “Nobody else here,” his hold dropping to my waist and then under my sweater and up to my ribs.

In Bermuda, Joyce and I had once sunbathed topless on our balcony, the guys aware, just not seeing. To be safe, though, we didn’t stand up. Todd said we’d be arrested, but was just kidding. Brian said they’d come out to bring us margaritas, which I thought to be kidding, until Joyce said great. and I had to say, thanks, but no thanks, we had our water bottles.

The others joked about going skinny-dipping that night until I reminded them of the police.

But this was the San Juans. “Just us and the hungry whales,” I agreed.

“The mating ones,” he added, his hands going around.