"You're just jealous because I screamed less than you did."
"I was PROJECTING CONFIDENCE through VOLUME!"
I crack one eye open and find Holt sitting near my feet, forearms resting on his knees, looking out at the water. His hair's drying in uneven tufts, shoulders sun-warmed and slightly pink, and there's still that ease in the line of his spine.
He turns his head, catches me looking.
I don't look away this time. "What?"
"You're staring."
"You're stareable," I say. "Nice tattoos. Very broody and mysterious. The wolves really sell the whole 'I have a complicated past' thing."
"Oh my God," Finn says from his towel, not bothering to move his arm from his eyes. "Are you two flirting? Because if you're flirting, I need to know so I can properly document this moment for posterity."
"We're not flirting," I say.
"You're definitely flirting," Finn says. "I can hear the flirting. It has a specific frequency."
His eyebrow goes up. "Broody?"
"In a hot way," I clarify, committing fully to this disaster while Finn makes gagging noises in the background. "Very 'I have a complicated past and excellent arms and I know how to fix things.'"
"I'm going to throw up," Finn announces. "This is disgusting. I'm disgusted."
"You asked if we were flirting!"
"I didn't think you'd ACTUALLY DO IT! I thought you'd deny it like normal people!"
Holt shakes his head, but I catch it—the almost-smile. "You're impossible."
"It's been said. Multiple times. By multiple people. I'm starting to think it might be a core personality trait."
"It is," Finn says, still not moving. "Can confirm. Scout, you want my professional opinion?"
"Not really."
"You're a menace and Holt is into it. There. Mystery solved. Everyone go home."
"Finn," Holt says, low and warning.
"What? I'm being helpful! I'm facilitating! This is me being a good friend!"
"You're being annoying."
"Those things aren't mutually exclusive!"
The sun shifts lower, and Betty Cordero starts packing up her chair. A few other families follow suit—kids being called back to shore, teenagers reluctantly leaving, the music turning off one truck at a time. But we stay sprawled on our rocks, sun-drunk and content, letting the day wind down around us.
"Remember the guy who wanted us to make his car electric?" Finn asks Holt.
"By removing the engine and adding batteries," Holt says flatly.
"Yeah! And we were like, 'Sir, that's not how that works,' and he was like, 'But I saw it on the Tube!'" Finn sits up, animated. "We tried to explain that converting a car to electric requires actual engineering and he just kept insisting it was 'simple' because some guy on the internet said so."
"What did you do?" I ask.
"Told him to go back to the Tube," Holt says.
