“It’s just been awkward lately. I think we’re spending too much time together. Tensions are high.”
Things have thawed slightly between us, but there’s still something off. I’m not sure we can go back to how our friendship was before the incident in Whistler.
He nudges me and smirks. “Oh yeah? What kind of tensions?”
“Get your head out of the gutter.”
“But seriously, did one of you finally make a move?” Parker’s eyes go wide. “Was it Reid?”
His phrasing stops me in my tracks. Why would he assumeeither of us would make a move? And why would he guess Reid? It makes no sense to me. I’m stunned as I say, “No.”
“Don’t lie, Delly.”
He’s the only one who calls me that. My cheeks are pink and my secrets are out. “Nothing happened, really. He was just trying to prove something.”
Parker lets the conversation stall there, and we sit in comfortable silence enjoying the stars above us. I can only see one or two from all of the pollution, but I can trust they’re there, and the thought brings me a sense of calm.
Reid joins us on the log, and it tips slightly. Parker jumps up. “Looks like this log is built for two.”
I don’t miss his very obvious wink, but I hope Reid does. His towering frame is too close for comfort.
“What, are you afraid to fall off again or something?” I tease.
He smiles. “Yeah, Addie. Something like that.”
Reid steals a sip of my drink, and I take a piece of pineapple off of his kebab. My heart is thudding, but I try to match it with the pace of the waves before he speaks again. “Addie, I’m sorry for what I did in Whistler.”
“You don’t have to apologize for that.”
“I do. I shouldn’t have done it like that.”
My breath catches at those last two words. “It’s really okay.”
He’s getting up as he says, “I’ll do better.”
I’m not sure what ‘better’ means. Before I can dissect the meaning of his words, he grabs my hand and drags me to the center of the picnic tables where people are swaying softly to a Hozier song. Reid keeps dragging me forward, but I dig my heels into the dirt. “I can’t dance, you know that.”
“I’ll lead.”
So I let him. We sway together in the sea breeze.
26
The sun has barely risen, but Parker is outside my window clad in a slick wet suit. He’s holding a coffee, and it’s the only reason I let him in.
“Let’s go catch some waves.”
“I just wanna read on the beach,” I groan dramatically.
“You can read on the beach after you catch some waves.”
Reid is here too, also in a wet suit, but his looks two sizes too small. “Addie, if I can surf, so can you.”
He’s deathly afraid of sharks. I’m admittedly surprised he would even consider surfing. The last time we were at a beach, he barely dipped his toes in the water. “I don’t have a wet suit.”
Reid, standing halfway out of the van door, bends down and hands me a hot pink wet suit. It looks tiny—there’s no way I’m going to get it up over my hips. Parker must sense my apprehension to the size. “They’re all small, Addie. That’s like, kind of the point.”
The fabric is stiff, with almost no flexibility to it. “I can help you if you want,” Reid offers. His hand is up in his hair, and his bicep is straining against the fabric.
