“It’s…cold,” I say, feeling like an absolute moron.
“Yeah, I know.” She smirks in amusement.
This is going great…
I shove my hands in my pockets as she goes into her room to retrieve a Creeds Bar hoodie. It does nothing to dampen my attraction to her.
Best friend’s little sister,I remind myself.
“Can’t sleep?” I ask in a hushed tone as she quietly closes the door behind her.
She shrugs. “I haven’t even tried. I like to stay up late.”
“All the time?”
We make our way downstairs, toward the sliding glass doors that lead out to the deck. “Most of the time. I like how quiet the house is. And I know they say we’re supposed to get eight hours of sleep or whatever, but I swear my body needs less, because I cannot stay in bed that long to save my life.”
I nod in agreement. “Same.”
She flips the lock, slides the door open, and we are immediately hit with the salty smell of the ocean. The roar of the waves can be heard in the distance, never failing to surprise me.
Some people hope for decent neighbors on the other side of the fence or, at the very least, some trees to serve as a buffer.
But the Creeds have the whole damn Pacific right in their backyard.
We don’t talk as we take the stairs down to the beach. The breeze from the ocean makes the night air chilly, and I notice Pres wrap her arms tightly around herself as our feet hit the sand.
I shrug off my jacket and place it on her shoulder.
“Oh, you don’t—” She shivers mid-sentence, causing her cheeks to pinken. “Okay.”
“I’m pretty used to the cold,” I say as I watch her slip her arms into it. I try and fight a smile as it nearly swallows her slim frame whole. “I spent a few winters in the Midwest, and you adapt pretty quickly.”
Especially when your mom doesn’t pay the heating bill…
“I’m not sure I could ever live someplace that cold,” she replies. “Or someplace so far away from my family. Plus, I really like the ocean.”
We’ve made our way close to the water now. The sand is wet here, and both of us have ditched our shoes, not caring in the least that our feet will freeze.
“I’ve never lived anywhere near the ocean. Until now.”
“Do you like it?” she asks, bending down to pick up a seashell. It’s broken. Imperfect. She hands it to me. I brush off the sand and stick it in my pocket, feeling like I’ve just been given a treasure.
“Yeah.” I nod. “I think I do.”
“Where did you live before this?”
“Uh…” I hesitate. I hate talking about this. It makes me feel exposed. “Arizona. My mom met this guy at a bar when we were driving out west one night, and we ended up staying for six months.”
She looks over at me, her eyes squinted together like they’re trying to read me. Finally, she says, “Isn’t it like a million degrees there? I’ve heard the pavement literally melts?”
Relief floods me, and I grin. “Yeah, it’s really hot. Not sure about the melting pavement, though. Never witnessed it.”
“Yuck. I hate extreme heat. I’d take a cold day at the beach any day.”
I snort. “I mean, who wouldn’t?
“Right?” she sighs. “Look at that.” She points to the water, smiling, and it’s hard to turn away.
