He stops about six feet from me and crosses his arms. He’s taller, so only his knees are beneath the water. I can tell he’s wary, maybe a little hesitant, but he’s not afraid. I hold out my hand and give him my best beseeching look.
“Please,” I beg.
An extended sigh escapes him, and finally he steps forward, reaching out to me. “You already changed my life, Amelia. You don’t have to do it again.”
My heart stumbles. “What?”
He just smiles, something soft and secret, and takes my hand. “With your grilled cheese, remember?”
“Oh, right,” I say, a slight tremor in my voice. It takes me a second to reorient myself. “See? It’s not so bad, is it?”
“No twirling,” is all he says.
I roll my eyes and tug him farther into the water. It’s like trying to move a stone statue. “Okay, how about you just turn in a slooow circle? Very rugged, very masculine. I know you think you’re intimidating when you glare at me like that, but I actually like it. A lot.”
Gregory lifts his eyes to the sky, like he’s sending up a prayer to someone. “What am I going to do with you?”
It’s a good question. I swing my arm back and snap it forward again, skidding my palm across the water. A perfect splash arcs across his torso. His eyes go wide, and I prop my hands on my hips. “Well? What are you gonna do now?”
I don’t even see the water coming. It hits me so suddenly, he must have moved faster than the speed of light.
I swipe my palm across my face, droplets hanging from my lashes. “Gregory McLoughlin!”
He’s just grinning at me without a trace of remorse. I launch myself at him, and before I know it, we’re a tangle of limbs and laughter, splashing and slipping and climbing up each other’s body to gain the upper hand. At one point I’m hanging off his back like a monkey, and at another he’s on his butt in the water, almost fully submerged, stunned only for a second before he’s back up and reaching for me.
When Gregory shrieks that something (seaweed, probably) brushed against his calf, he sprints back to the shore, his knees almost touching the sky. I make my way back to the beach, laughing so hard I can’t breathe.
“Do you love the ocean now?” I wheeze.
He glares at me. “No.”
At my pout, he relents. “Still need a shark tooth to seal the deal.”
“Don’t hold your breath,” I say with a laugh, and bend forward to wring out my hair. “My hair’s soaked.”
“Everything’s soaked,” Gregory says. “Did you plan this, AmeliaMadden? Was this part of your grand plan to get me out of my bad mood? Because I gotta say, it worked. Absolutely brilliant.”
I give up on my hair and straighten, tossing it behind me. “A water fight wasn’t my initial plan, but I’m glad it worked out.”
Gregory doesn’t reply, and I realize he’s gone still beside me. His dark hair is dripping, and a water droplet slides down his neck. His gaze is fixed on me, his mouth slightly ajar. It’s then that I realize my wet T-shirt—mywhiteT-shirt—is basically transparent. Yes, the daylight has mostly faded, but it’s still lightenough.
Something seems to shift in the air between us, and I swallow thickly before I find it in myself to call him out.
“Gregory.”
“Yeah.”
“You still with me over there?”
“Sure.”
“Have you never seen boobs before? Lots of people have them.”
He gasps and his gaze shoots up to mine. “Oh my God. Sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean, um—” He turns his back to me. “Sorry.”
I laugh, feeling weirdly flattered and not at all offended, because Gregory’s not being creepy and I know I’m safe with him. “Come on, my house isn’t far and we can get some dry clothes.” I loop my arm through his. “I don’t get a lot of guys checking me out. I didn’t mind it.”
He side-eyes me as we start walking. “I think you just don’t notice.”
