‘You said you didn’t get to visit the beach all that often before. Now it’s right on your doorstep, you can come any time you like.’
Sitting back on my heels, I shielded my face from the sun.
‘You remembered that?’
Wyn pinched his shoulders into a casual shrug that was completely betrayed by the way his cheeks shone bright red. Digging around in a massive backpack, he produced a pair of red, retro plastic sunglasses and a tube of sunscreen.
‘Can’t have you burning to a crisp,’ he said, handing them both over. ‘The lady in the pharmacy said this was the best brand for redheads.’
‘But my hair is brown,’ I protested until he gently grasped the end of my messy braid and held it between us. ‘Except in this light where it definitely has an auburn tint.’
‘Reminds me of the way the sky looks at sunset,’ he said, still holding my hair in his hand. ‘Right after the sun goes down.’
A million tiny jolts of electricity burst through me as he carefully laid my braid back over my shoulder and reached for the tube of sunscreen, pretending I didn’t feel the tingling sensation building in my fingertips.
‘Let me look at this,’ I said, popping the cap. ‘SPF 50, nice. How about I do you, then you do me?’
Wyn let out a howl of laughter as I turned into the human embodiment of cringe.
‘Whatever you need,’ he replied, a playful grin lighting up his eyes. ‘Always happy to help.’
‘Appreciate it.’ I squeezed a glob of thick white lotion into my hand and slapped it against my face, rubbing ferociously as I pressed my lips together to seal them shut, hopefully forever.
Tybee was heaven. A cool breeze blew in off the water, transforming the sticky city heat into perfect beach weather, and the vibes were undeniably high. Wyn, in his T-shirt and swim shorts, was already perfectly golden while my limbs gleamed aconspicuous white, peeking out from my loose cotton shirt and new denim shorts that were formerly old jeans. We sat side by side on the beach blanket, not quite touching but close enough for me to be intensely aware of his body. I silently catalogued the parts I hadn’t noticed before: the worn leather strap of the watch on his left wrist, the freckles on the backs of his hands, the long indent of a scar on his left shin.
‘That looks rough,’ I said, pointing to his leg. ‘Get into a fight over the last scoop at Leopold’s?’
‘It was lemon custard and it was totally worth it.’
He traced the mark all the way up from ankle to knee. ‘Truth is, I don’t know how I got it. Happened when I was six. According to my folks, they left me playing outside with Cole then my grandpa found me with this crazy gash on my leg. I don’t remember a thing. Only that my dad took us out for McDonald’s afterwards which was a big deal because my dad doesnotapprove of fast food.’
‘Did you get a Happy Meal?’ I asked, still staring at the scar.
‘Complete with SpongeBob SquarePants on a skateboard. And yes, it’s still on my nightstand.’
‘Can’t go wrong with SpongeBob,’ I smiled. ‘You don’t have any theories about what happened? Whatever it was must have been sharp.’
‘And clean too, it healed up right away. Guess my brain decided I was better off not knowing. I heard that kind of thing can happen when you go into shock, you know?’
I nodded, I did know.
‘And your brother didn’t see what happened?’
‘Not exactly a surprise. Cole isn’t that observant,’ Wyn replied flatly before nodding to the scar on my arm, the one from Bonaventure. ‘While we’re comparing war wounds, how’d you get that one?’
‘Oh, boring story.’ I rolled my sleeve all the way down to the wrist. ‘It happened a long time ago. I fell. Off a scooter. In Italy.’
‘Doesn’t sound boring to me but I’ve never fallen off a scooter in Italy.’ He stretched out his legs and leaned back on his elbows. ‘I really want to travel after I graduate. Get out and see the world, maybe backpack around Europe for a year. Maybe you can give me some pointers.’
My stomach turned at the thought of him getting on a plane and disappearing from my life, strolling through European cities with girls falling all over him.
‘What about SCAD?’ I asked, keeping my jealous thoughts inside and out of my voice.
‘Oh, yeah. SCAD.’ He rubbed the underneath of his chin with the back of his hand and frowned. ‘Maybe I could travel for the summer before the fall semester, hit up a few hotspots.’
‘Funny how you want to leave America when I was always desperate to get here,’ I said. ‘Dad used to call us part-time Americans.’
‘How come you never came back before?’ He turned and reached into his bag, pulling out a small, soft-sided cooler full of sodas and seltzer waters. ‘Y’all didn’t want to visit family? Or did they travel to Europe? I guess that’s what I would do if I had the chance.’
