I put a hand on the back of my neck—also burnt. “My dad and I golfed eighteen holes yesterday. He kicked my ass.”
“Where’d you play? The surface of the sun?”
“Close. The Emerald Outlook. Do you know it?”
“No. I don’t like golf.”
“Neither do I.”
She gives me an inquisitive look. “Then why’d you go?”
“My dad was fired up about it. We don’t get to hang out a lot with him living all the way out here. I feel like I owe him some father-son time.”
“You’re a good human,” she declares, like sacrificial golf is all it takes. “Except you’re not supposed to put your dermis at risk to please others. SPF next time?”
“For sure. Lesson learned.”
Her phone chimes from the depths of her bag. She digs it out and gives it a cursory glance. She frowns, then rifles through her bag again, unearthing a ten and a twenty. Tossing them on the table, she stands. “I’ve got to go. Do me a solid and make sure the check gets paid?”
I slide her money back toward her. “Don’t worry about it.”
“Henry. Just because I let you come to my rescue earlierdoesn’t mean you need to get all chivalrous on me now.”
“I wouldn’t think of it. The thing is, my dad owns this place. He’s actually really into chivalry”— I pronounce the word in the same grossed-out tone she used—“and he’d kill me if I let a girl pay for coconut shrimp.”
She pushes her book into her bag, then her cash. “All this time, I’ve been sitting with the owner’s kid? Thank your dad for me. And thank you for hanging out.”
I stand to let her out of the booth. She hauls her bag onto her sandy shoulder and flashes me a grin that makes my stomach somersault.
I squash the feeling, the attraction.
I’ve got no business falling for this girl. Not after what happened with Whitney.
My mouth is a lap ahead of my brain, though, because it’s already tossing out an invitation. “I’m thinking about heading to the pool later. I’ve got to get through a meal with my dad, but I’m gonna need a swim after. You should come down. Around nine?”
She’s quiet long enough to have me second-guessing my suggestion. But then another smile crinkles the corners of her eyes, and my regrets fly out the window.
“Yeah,” she says. “I’ll try to make it.”
Piper
That first night we met, as we walked away from the pool and the sadness I’d spilled all over the place, Henry asked aboutmy favorite food (white rice with tons of butter and salt and pepper) and my favorite movie (The Wizard of Oz—I used to watch it with my sister, before) and my favorite song (Queen’s “Somebody to Love” because my parents used to blast it through the house while they were cooking or cleaning).
“What about you?” I asked as we navigated the moonlit beach.
“I like folksy stuff. Watchhouse, the Avett Brothers, the Enliveners.”
“Oh, me too! My best friend and I saw the Enliveners in May—they were amazing.”
Gabi’s mom, Maggie, had driven us to Atlanta for a music festival, and we’d had thebesttime. She’d hung back, letting us pretend to be on our own, as if we were older and more mature than our fourteen years. We’d worn halter tops andshredded jeans and hoop earrings that grazed our shoulders. We’d sung and danced. We’d drunk fresh-squeezed lemonade and pretended not to know what was going on when Maggie tugged us away from a group of college kids who were getting blazed on a blanket close to ours. Later, in a hotel room fancier than anyplace I’d ever stayed before, the three of us donned plush bathrobes and ordered slices of seven-layer chocolate cake.
I was about to tell Henry all of this when movement up ahead caught my eye.
“Hang on.” I stopped to squint into the distance.
“What is it?” he asked, following my gaze.
“I think…” I took a few steps away from the water, toward the dune grass. I peered into the darkness, trying to make sense of the shape in the sand. And then, keeping my voice soft despite my excitement, I said, “Yes! There’s a turtle up ahead. She’s nesting.”
