Eventually, we drift back to shore, waterlogged and happy. Sierra flops onto her towel with a contented sigh.
“I needed this,” she says to the sky. “I didn’t know how much I needed this, but I really did.”
“Me too,” I admit, settling onto my own towel nearby.
The sun is warm on my skin, and I can feel exhaustion pulling at me. The good kind, from physical activity and fresh air and laughter. I let my eyes drift closed, just for a moment.
When I open them again, it’s because Sierra has moved. She’sstanding at the water’s edge, looking out at the ocean with this expression I can’t quite read.
I get up and join her, falling into step beside her without speaking. Sometimes silence is better than words.
We walk along the shoreline, letting the waves lap at our feet, the sand cool and wet beneath us.
“Thank you,” Sierra says after a while.
“For what?”
“This. The beach day. Giving me permission to just... be. To not think about anything except right now.”
“You don’t need permission for that,” I say gently.
“Maybe not. But it helped having someone suggest it anyway.” She glances at me, and there’s something vulnerable in her expression. “I’m not great at letting myself just enjoy things. I always feel like I should be working toward something, planning the next move.”
“I know the feeling.”
“You hide it better than I do.”
“Years of practice.”
She’s quiet for a long moment, then she stops walking and turns to face me fully.
“Cole?”
“Yeah?”
Without warning, she takes off running. Back toward the others, toward the water, toward the sandcastle that’s miraculously still standing.
“Sierra?” I call, confused.
“Rule two!” she shouts back. “Someone suggests shenanigans, the answer is yes! So come on, Cole—catch me if you can!”
A grin splits my face.
Oh, sweetheart. Challenge accepted.
I take off after her, my feet pounding the sand, and I can hear her laughing as she runs. She’s fast, but I’m faster, and I catch up with her.
My arms wrap around her waist, and we go down in a tangleof limbs, landing in the shallow surf with a splash. Sierra’s laughing so hard she can barely breathe, and I’m laughing too, both of us soaked and sandy and absolutely ridiculous.
“Gotcha,” I say, grinning down at her.
“That you did,” she agrees, still breathless with laughter.
We’re close now. Close enough that I can see the water droplets on her eyelashes, the slight part of her lips as she catches her breath.
Close enough to kiss.
The thought occurs to us at the same moment. I can see it in the way her eyes drop to my mouth, the way her breath hitches.
