Millie
The backs of my thighs stick to the lifeguarding stand, and sweat drips down my legs. I’ve been up here for hours in the sun, the heat already oppressive, even though it’s not even noon.
“You good?” Ethan calls below me from the sand. He’s wearing red swimming trunks and Ray-Bans, no shirt. I avert my eyes. “That wood’ll do a number on your tush.”
A flush spreads across my neck at the very mention ofmy tushfrom Ethan’s mouth. “Yep!” I eke out.
He laughs and tosses up a bottle of sunscreen.
“Thanks,” I say, catching it with both hands, and watch as he climbs up the chair. My stomach fizzles like a popped can of seltzer as he settles in next to me, and for a brief moment as he readjusts, the edge of his thigh, hot and sticky, grazes mine.
I push my sunglasses high up on the bridge of my nose so he can’t see my eyes.
“Want some help?” Ethan doesn’t wait for an answer and instead takes the bottle from my hands. He squirts some into his palms before motioning for me to turn around so my back is to him.
“Um…” I start to say, though it’s probably best to say nothing at all. I twist my spine and squeeze my eyes shut, bracing for his touch.Nothing prepares me for the burn of Ethan’s palms resting on my shoulders, nudging lotion under the straps of my bathing suit.
“Gotta be careful on days like this,” he says. “All you Gold girls burn like crazy.”
“It usually turns into a tan,” I say, my voice quiet. “With some mild agony and peeling along the way.”
Ethan laughs. “Lucy burned so bad when we all went to Anguilla. Remember that?”
I swallow. “Mm-hmm.”
Ethan drums his fingers on my shoulder. “Your turn.”
Shit. I didn’t realize that now I would be expected to restmyhands on Ethan’s back, rubbing lotion ontohisskin. My chest tightens.
“I—”
Thankfully, someone interrupts us down below. “Silver! Yo!”
Ethan leans over and a smile spreads across his face as Dylan Fisher runs up to the tower wearing his Beach Club tennis pro uniform, holding his sneakers in his hands. “What’s up, my man?” Ethan asks.
Dylan shields his eyes and nods at me. “Hey, Luce.”
I let out a small sigh. Thisalwayshappens. I hate that when people see me, the first thing they think of is my sister, and it makes me wonder what it would take for them to look at me and seeme.
“That’s Millie,” Ethan corrects Dylan before I have to say something.
Dylan squints up at us. “Ah, sorry. You guys look like twins.”
“We get that a lot,” I manage.
He moves his gaze back to Ethan. “You seen Godwin?”
Ethan leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees. “No. Have you?”
Dylan laughs. “Nope. I bet he’s still wrecked from last night. That was a wild one, right?”
Huh. I guess hedidgo to Billy’s party. Ethan shifts in his seat but doesn’t look at me. “He’s probably still passed out waiting for a bacon-egg-and-cheese to be hand-delivered to him in bed,” Ethan says.
“Honestly, that sounds dank right now.” Dylan holds up his tennis racket. “Wanna rally later? Free court at four.”
“In this weather?” Ethan says. “As if I have a death wish.”
“Fair, bro. Tomorrow a.m.?”
