Uh…Mason’sass,if Bran was correctly tracking the trajectory of her gaze.
“I thought you didn’t like him.” He eyed her curiously.
“Can’t stand the talk,” she admitted, then made a face. “Or thenotalk, which is usually the case. But, man, do Ilovethe walk.”
“No shit?” Bran chuckled. “Have you ever thought of tellinghimthat?”
Alex pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose. “I’ve considered it.” She shrugged. “But the one time I opened my mouth to say something to him, my brain got really agitated and started shouting,No! Don’t do it! It’ll be awful!Which totally offended my mouth. And then it took two weeks for my brain and my mouth to make up and become friends again. Which meant I spent the first week saying things I hadn’t thought about. And the second week thinking about things I never got up the nerve to say. It was just awful. Terrible. I never want to go through that again. So…yeah. No.” She shook her head and wrinkled her nose. “I’m sorry. What was the question again?”
“I’ve forgotten,” he said, his head spinning because he’d inadvertently hopped on the carnival ride known as Alex Merriweather’s Motor Mouth.
“Mason! Wait!” Maddy darted past them and ran down the steps to catch Mason on the beach. “Your shirt! I forgot to give it back to you.”
Mason took the gray T-shirt from her, handing her his rifle so he could tug the garment over his head.
“Well, nowthat’sa pity,” Louisa said as she and others pushed past Bran and Alex to gather on the front porch. Bran was overwhelmed by the smells of lip balm, body butter, and hair gel. A million high-school memories swirled through his head. “That man should never wear a shirt.”
Alex nodded. “Preach it, sister.”
“And he should be bronzed for posterity,” Louisa added. “So generations of women can appreciate his magnificence. Like Michelangelo’s statue of David.”
Alex answered with an “Amen!”
“I’m gonna be sick to my stomach,” Bran complained. “You.” He pointed at Louisa. “You’re too young to be saying things like that about a man who’s old enough to be your father.”
“Right,” Louisa scoffed. “If he started having kids at, like, what? Sixteen?”
“It’s a biological possibility,” Bran insisted. “Andyou.” He narrowed his gaze on Alex. “You shouldn’t be encouraging the delinquency of minors.”
“No need to be jealous, dude.” The brunette with the Jersey accent and the tough-girl piercings grinned at him. Maddy had introduced her as Donna. “We think you’re totes adorbs too.”
He shook his head. “I’m sorry?”
“Totally adorable,” she clarified. “Like an older, taller, hotter version of Benjamin Ciaramello.”
“Who?” he was amazed to find himself asking.
“Ah, come on. You know,” Sally Mae drawled. “He played a high school football player onFriday Night Lights. The TV show, not the movie.”
“Really?” Alex asked. She glanced at Bran, her eyes narrowed, her expression considering. “Yup. I guess I can see it. Around the eyes and mouth, maybe. Hey, isn’t that show a little retro for you guys? I mean, it was popular whenIwas in high school.”
“We stream it on Netflix,” Louisa said. “Mostly to catch shirtless Taylor Kitsch moments.”
“Ah.” Alex nodded again. “Yes. Thosearenice, aren’t they?”
“What did I just say about contributing to the delinquency of minors?” Bran asked, completely disconcerted to be standing within earshot of this ridiculous conversation.
“Relax, Rambo,” Alex said. “It’s just girl talk.”
“Yeah.” Louisa grinned at him, her dark eyes glinting. “Talking about shirtless guys is pretty much de rigueur for the seventeen-year-old set.”
“Good use of an SAT word.” Donna slapped her a high five.
“So don’tyougo putting a shirt on, too,sí?” Louisa continued, batting her lashes. “You shirtless is by far the best thing that’s happened to any of us tonight.”
Bran sputtered as Alex hee-hawed beside him like a crazed donkey.
“You,” he said again, this time pointing at Alex’s nose. “Cut it out.”
