He giggles and gently touches my forearm. The contact is fleeting, but it makes my heart soar.
“Relax,” he says, grinning. “I’m just teasing. I know you didn’t mean it. You were drunk.”
Except, I did mean it with every fiber of my being. I was drunk, but I wasn’tthatdrunk. But instead of telling him the truth, I nod like a coward.
“Yeah. I was wasted,” I say with a chuckle.
“So… are we good? You promise you’re not going to ignore me anymore?” he asks.
The sadness in his voice makes me feel like a douchebag. I didn’t mean to make him feel bad. I thought I was protecting him by staying away, but maybe I was just protecting myself.
“I promise,” I say.
“Cool.” He beams before glancing toward his table, eyeing his half-eaten burger. “My food’s probably cold now. I’ll stop bothering you and let you get back to work. Have a good rest of your day, Mason.”
I nod. “You too.”
He turns to his table, but I clear my throat. He looks back at me expectantly.
“And, uh… you don’t bother me,” I say quietly. “I actually like talking to you.”
His cheeks flush, and he bites his bottom lip to hide the smile. “I like talking to you too.”
Then he turns and walks back to his table. I quickly bus the remaining tables before scurrying into the kitchen, pushing through the swinging doors. I set the overflowing bin next to the sink, breathing hard.
My heart’s still racing. I swallow hard before accepting the terrifying truth: I have a crush.
***
Hunter’s crouched in the dunes, partially hidden by tall grass as he hammers wooden stakes into the sand. Each whack of the rubber mallet echoes faintly in the warm summer breeze. I’m not sure what the hell he’s doing, but I assume it’s part of his research.
He’s clearly struggling with it. He pauses every few minutes to catch his breath, hands braced on his knees, chest heaving.
I can’t abandon my post to help him. In a selfish way, I kind of enjoy catching glimpses of him like this—all sweaty and frustrated, his golden skin glistening in the heat. The sight does things to me. Things I definitely shouldn’t be thinking about while at work.
When my lunch break finally rolls around, I flip theNO LIFEGUARD ON DUTY – SWIM AT YOUR OWN RISKsign on the tower and hop down. The sand feels hot beneath my bare feet as I approach him, trudging uphill.
“Need a hand?” I call out.
He looks up, face red. “Please.”
I take the mallet from him and drive the stake into the sand with a few solid hits. I wiggle the tip to test its sturdiness. It doesn’t budge.
“I hate you. You made that look so easy,” he groans, wiping his forehead with the back of his arm.
I laugh. “What are you setting these up for, anyway?”
“I’m marking perimeter zones for research plots,” he explains, pointing to a diagram in his notebook. It’s a messy sketch with dimensions and coordinates.
“Hunter, you really gotta explain these things to me like I’m five years old,” I say, only half-joking. “What’s the point of research plots?”
He grins. Not in his usual condescending way—in a sweet, patient way. “The plots basically allow me to test different hypotheses in a natural environment. I’m investigating how invasive species affect the pollination rates of Pitcher’s Thistle.”
“Pitcher’s Thistle,” I repeat. “That’s the one I stepped on at the parade, right?”
He nods, surprise flickering over his face. “Yeah. I can’t believe you remember that.”
I shrug and try not to look directly at him. The truth is, I remember everything about the night we met. Meeting Hunter felt like some kind of cosmic event where the stars shifted.
