Page 25 of The Summer We Lie

"Sorry," she murmurs, not meeting my eyes. A faint blush spreads across her freckled nose.

I load everything while they climb into the truck, Harper chattering away about all the places she wants to show Skye this summer. My beach house. My pool. My studio. Every word is another reminder that she'll be everywhere I am for the next three months. Three months of torture. Three months of constant temptation.

I slide into the driver's seat and catch Skye's eyes in the rearview mirror. For a moment, we just stare at each other, a silent acknowledgment passing between us. The recognition of our shared secret and the unspoken agreement to keep it. Then she looks away, but not before I see the flush spreading across her cheeks, down her neck, disappearing out of my view.

"In-N-Out, here we come!" Harper announces, oblivious to the tension filling the truck like smoke.

I put the truck in drive, wondering how the hell I'm going to survive this summer without burning everything to the ground. "Is it cool if we go in and eat?" Harper asks as I pull into the parking lot, already reaching for the door handle.

"Yeah, you guys tired of sitting?" I ask, trying to keep my voice neutral, dad-appropriate.

"Yes, my ass is sore," she says with the casual frankness I've always appreciated about my daughter.

"Mine too," Skye says, and then adds, "and I need a shower desperately." The image of her in my shower hits me like a physical blow. Water running down her body, soap sliding over her skin, steam rising around her freckled shoulders—Christ. I grip the steering wheel tighter, forcing the thought away.

Harper laughs. "Or we can take a dip in nature when we get home," she says, getting out of my truck, oblivious to the effect her friend's innocent comment had on me.

I turn the truck off and get out, walking over to the door I hold it open for them. Skye passes close enough that I catch her scent—something sweet and floral. The subtle fragrance lingers in my nostrils as I follow them up to the counter and hand Harper my card.

"I'll get us a seat. Will you grab me a strawberry shake?" I ask, needing a moment away from Skye's proximity.

"Yeah, no food?" she asks, brow furrowed.

"Nah, I'm good, but make sure you guys get shakes too. We got to show Skye everything they have to offer," I say and then turn to find us a table, needing a moment to collect myself before I say or do something inappropriate.

I pull out my phone and text our group chat, my fingers moving rapidly across the screen.

Me: We have a huge problem here.

Ethan: What's the problem?

Logan: His dick is hard and he doesn't know what to do with it.

Ethan: You're probably right. Okay just wrap your hand around it and move it up and down.

Logan: It will feel really good and don't worry if you feel pressure and your balls tighten, it means you're doing it right.

Jesus Christ. My friends are twelve-year-olds trapped in grown men's bodies. Twenty years of friendship and they still have the maturity of college freshmen.

Me: Stfu!

Me: I'm serious, Harper just got in and… I think it's better if you guys see for yourselves. Can you guys come over tonight?

Ethan: You serious?

Logan: Is everything okay with Harper?

Me: Yeah she's good, I need to go just come over around seven for dinner okay?

Logan: We'll be there.

Ethan: What he said.

I tuck my phone away as they sit down in front of me. Skye has empty cups in her hands and two shakes. She sits mine in front of me and the other one in front of Harper, the movement causing her to lean forward. I force my eyes to stay on her face.

"Thanks," I say, voice carefully controlled.

"You're welcome," she says, then turns to Harper. "Dr. Pepper?"