Which, thankfully, good genetics, good nutrition, and the occasional workout already have the abs issue under control. I just need to figure out how to make her love me.
“That works,” I eventually say, taking the calm, cool, and collected approach. “We’ll do something fun, then. Maybe make a quick trip down to Ocean City for some crab or something.”
“Oh my God!” she shouts, jumping up and spinning toward me. “I was just thinking earlier that you were going to end up taking us down there for crab today!”
“Really?” I laugh.
“Yes,” she agrees, shaking her head. “We’re starting to get too in tune, Acer.” She taps her temple. “I don’t know if the world can handle that level of friendship.”
“It can,” I assure. “If it can handle what happened at the paint-and-sip my mom signed us up for when we were sophomores in high school, it can handle anything.”
“Oh my God! I almost forgot about that. You got so drunk on wine before your mom even realized we were drinking something other than grape juice.”
“She claims she had no idea she was condoning underage boozing, but I’m not sure what to believe.”
Julia snorts. “You got so wine-drunk that you tried to turn your butterfly into Batman halfway through.”
“Listen, I maintain that was a creative pivot.”
“Your butterfly had one normal wing and one that looked like it belonged to a melting spaghetti noodle.”
“Hey, limp wing is still better than limp…” I trail off, waggling my eyebrows.
“Oh God, please.” Julia slaps her hand on my thigh with a playful roll of her pretty blue eyes. “Come on, let’s go in the pool again. I’m getting hot.”
I agree easily, straddling my chair to climb to my feet and offering a hand to steady her while she gets up. I walk behind her to the pool, keeping an eye on the fucks who stare a little too long ather ass, and hold her hand while she climbs down the steps at the side, before following her in. She dunks under the water and comes up with her hair slicked back, and I immediately post up behind her to smooth it out of her eyes.
“Thanks,” she says quietly, turning to look at me over her shoulder as my hand grazes her shoulder.
I smile. “Of course.”
I want to lean down and kiss the water-dotted skin, but I don’t. Not that I wouldn’t normally—our friendship has always crossed societal boundaries—but with the way I’m feeling inside, I’m not sure I would survive it.
Julia spins in the water, her fingertips dancing on the surface, and then leans onto her back to float. Her feet kick up in front of me and land on my shoulders, which she uses to glide herself back and forth.
Her feet are so dainty, her toes long and pink-tipped with magenta polish. I grab on to both, my thumb working subconsciously over the freckle on the top of her left big toe. In a vast expanse of perfect tanned skin, this one freckle stands out like a landmark of our lives together.
She ab-curls up, her thighs pressing against my chest until she can replace her legs with her arms, hanging off me in a hug. I hold my waist back, careful of my newly renewed fucking rager.
We’re the same. This is how we’ve always been. Close. Easy. Effortless.
Except, at the same time, I can tell this is the beginning of something different.
NowI’m on the edge of a cliff, staring down at what I can’t have. This, for better or worse, is the beginning of my ruin. Because, unlike before, my mind races at every touch, analyzes at every moment, and obsesses over her wildly.
Because I love her. I love Julia Brooks.
And tomorrow, she’s going on a date with another dude.
Fuck.
Sunday, June 8th
Julia
I didn’t plan to spend my whole day with Ace again. It just…happened.
One minute, we were eating bagels from our favorite bakery in SoHo and arguing over whether the everything bagel is the best bagel you can get, and the next, we were watching people play chess in Washington Square Park before picking up tacos. And then somehow, we ended up at a pet store holding a chameleon Ace named Mr. Slippy.
