"Nope," Gio says, already sliding back into the driver's seat.
Lorenzo, still wedged in the middle seat, perks up. "You got the sexy tiny grapes?"
Gio tosses the container back at him without looking. "Don't scream next time and I won't run us into a wall." Lorenzo hugs the grapes. "My grapes, my rules."
I get in, shut the door, and stare straight ahead. I can see Gio's profile out of the corner of my eye.
Was it a one-time thing? A thank you kiss? A shut up kiss? A we're okay kiss? God, I want to ask. But instead, I just sit there, pretending to be normal. Inside? Screaming. Outside? Cool. Collected. Maybe a little flushed. But totally fine. Probably.
…
The sand is burning. Somewhere behind me, Noah is yelling about how his sunscreen has exploded inside his bag. Daisy is carrying the speaker. Lorenzo is trying to carry the cooler and the beach umbrella at the same time, looking like a drunk flamingo.
Gio is carryingonething. That damn bowl. He hasn’t let it go once. And maybe I shouldn't find that so ridiculously sweet. But I do.
We finally reach a half-empty spot near the edge of the beach, shaded by a few crooked umbrellas someone has abandoned. The sea stretches out in front of us. We drop our stuff.
Noah immediately rips his shirt off and launches himself onto a towel. "If anyone tries to touch me for the next ten minutes, I will scream."
Daisy kicks off her flip flops and throws a bag at Lorenzo.
"Set up the umbrella, strongman."
"Yes ma'am."
I kneel on the towel, wiping my forehead with the back of my hand. Sweat clings to my back, and the sun feels like it’s trying to devour us whole. Gio finally sets the bowl down carefully on a towel, and then sits beside it.
"You gonna share those?" Noah asks, squinting. Gio shoots him a look. "I'll consider it. If you behave."
"Then it's a no," Daisy mutters, pouring herself water.
I am sitting close. Not close close, but close enough to feel the tension again. That quiet space between our bodies that feels like it could goboomwith one wrong movement.
I lean back, sunglasses sliding down my nose. He hasn't looked at me since the kiss. Not really. I don't know if I should say something. I don't know if I can. But every time his fingers brush the rim of that bowl, I want to kiss him again. Just once. Just to prove it wasn't a dream.
Daisy pulls out the playing cards. "Okay. We're tan. We're sweaty. We're legally stupid. Time for blackjack." Lorenzo is already halfway into a beer. "High stakes?"
"Bragging rights and maybe one of Gio's pies," Noah offers, grinning.
Gio clutches the bowl. "You'll die before I give you one willingly." I finally smile. The deck of cards hits the towel like a declaration of war. "Alright, degenerates," Daisy says, fanning them out like she’s dealing at a Vegas table.
"Standard rules. Cheating is allowed. Crying is not." Noah immediately pulls his sunglasses down. "Define cheating."
"Anything Lorenzo does," she replies.
"Hey!" Lorenzo says, full offense in his voice.
"I only cheated once during this game."
"You flashed Noah your abs to distract him and stole two cards," I point out. "That's called strategy, babe," he claims.
We break into teams. Me and Gio against Lorenzo and Noah, with Daisy as the chaotic dealer-slash-commentator who switches sides whenever it's funny. The sun is hot. The music is low. The cards are flying. And I'm pretty sure Lorenzo is inventing rules as we go. "No one draws on a seven," he says.
"That's not a rule," Gio mutters.
"It is now."
Somewhere in the middle of this beautifully stupid chaos, Gio reaches into the bowl beside him. I'm not paying attention,still arguing with Noah over whether or not his five of hearts has always had peanut butter on it, when I feel something press against my arm.
