Page 29 of The Summer We Lie

"Thanks," she says with genuine pride. "He's pretty awesome."

He's definitely impressive, hot, and from what I know and see, a good father—but he's also a big dick. A dick that I need to stay far away from while I'm here. It will be easy—just avoid him like a sexually transmitted disease. The thought makes me snort to myself. Great analogy, Skye. Real classy.

We reach the bottom and my toes hit warm, soft sand. It feels so good, nothing like the rocky lakeshores back home where you have to wear water shoes to avoid cutting your feet. The beach is completely deserted—apparently being disgustingly rich means you get your own private slice of paradise without having to worry about other humans intruding on your perfect day.

Harper looks at me with a huge smile on her face, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Race ya," she says, and we both stand there for a second, tensed like runners at the starting line. I take off suddenly, leaving her standing there, my feet kicking up little explosions of sand behind me.

"Hey!" she yells after me. "Cheater!" When I get closer to the water's edge, I drop my bottle of water in the sand and keep running straight into the ocean. My feet splash through the shallows, sending up diamond droplets that catch the sunlight, creating miniature rainbows that disappear as quickly as they form.

When I get to my knees, I can't run anymore. The water is clear and the perfect temperature—not freezing cold like I expected, but refreshingly cool against my sun-warmed skin. I tread water until I'm thigh deep and look at Harper right behind me before I dive in, letting my body slice through the surface like one of those synchronized swimmers I used to watch on TV.

The salt water envelops me in silky coolness, and for a moment, I feel completely free. No bills, no responsibilities, no weird sexual tension with my best friend's father—just weightlessness and blue. When I surface, I push my wet hair back and laugh, feeling lighter than I have in months, maybe years.

Harper splashes me, her red hair darkened by the water, freckles standing out against her pale skin like constellations. "I can't believe we have all summer," she says, floating on her back beside me. "This is going to be perfect."

I nod and float next to her, staring up at the vast California sky, with the sun on my face and my best friend beside me.

Chapter Thirteen

Skye

I don't know how long we're out here, but eventually I notice the light changing, the blue sky deepening into something richer, more profound. Harper and I swim until our fingers turn pruney and our muscles feel pleasantly fatigued, then we collapse on our towels on the sand, stretching out as the warmth seeps into our tired bodies. We lie there, watching as the sun begins its slow, majestic descent toward the horizon, painting the world in golden light.

"This is the best part," Harper says, propping herself up on her elbows, her wet hair catching the fading sunlight like copper wire.

The sunset unfolds like something from a dream—colors I didn't even know existed in nature bleeding across the vast canvas of sky. Vibrant oranges melt into deep purples, with streaks of pink and gold reflecting off the water, transforming the ocean into a mirror of liquid fire. I've seen sunsets before, back in Pennsylvania, but nothing like this. This is the kind of sunset that makes you believe in something bigger than yourself, something magical and endless and perfect.

I'm completely transfixed, my breath caught somewhere in my chest as I watch the sun sink lower until it kisses the horizon line. The moment stretches, impossibly beautiful, the world suspended in this perfect balance between day and night. And then it's gone—the sun disappearing and leaving behind a watercolor masterpiece that's already beginning to fade, colors shifting and changing with each passing second.

"I want it to come back," I whisper, not even realizing I've spoken aloud, my voice small against the vastness of the ocean. "I want to see that every night for the rest of my life."

Harper smiles at me, understanding in her eyes, the fading light catching the freckles scattered across her face. "California does have its perks."

We lie there for a few minutes longer, watching as the sky transitions from dusk to early evening, stars beginning to peek through the darkening canopy above us. My stomach growls loudly enough for Harper to hear, breaking the peaceful silence between us.

"I'm starving," she announces, sitting up and shaking sand from her towel, little grains cascading back to the beach.

"Me too," I agree, suddenly aware of how ravenous I am after all that swimming. The salt air has given me an appetite I wasn't expecting.

"Come on, let's go find dinner." She stands and grabs her towel, wrapping it around her waist, covering the bottom half of her perfect figure. I do the same, draping my towel over my arm and grabbing my empty water bottle to take with me, feeling the pleasant exhaustion of a day well spent settling into my bones.

The walk back up the stairs is much harder than coming down. My legs feel like jelly from swimming, muscles protesting with each step. I'm exhausted, my skin tight from the salt water drying on it, leaving behind a fine crystalline residue. I notice the stairs are lit with soft red lights embedded in the stone—lights I didn't even notice were there on the way down when the sun was high in the sky. I'm thankful for them now, though. This walk could be dangerous without them, the stone steps steep and unforgiving in the gathering darkness.

The closer we get to the top, a mouth-watering aroma wafts down to us, rich and savory, making my stomach growl again with renewed intensity. The scent of grilling meat and spices makes my mouth water involuntarily.

"I guess Dad is already cooking," Harper says, quickening her pace slightly.

A minute later, we step into the backyard, and I see her dad with two other men standing around a massive built-in grill, deep in conversation, drinks in hand. All heads turn to us when we appear, and I'm suddenly hyper-aware of how little I'm wearing, my damp bikini clinging to my body. I resist the urge to cross my arms over my chest, feeling exposed under their collective gaze.

"Who's that?" I ask quietly, leaning closer to Harper.

"Those dipshits are my dad's best friends since college," Harper says with obvious affection coloring her tone. "Ethan is the one with the dark hair—he's in cyber security. Total tech genius with that whole mysterious, dangerous vibe going on. Those eyes miss nothing."

I look at the dark-haired man—tall, with sharp features and intense eyes that seem to be cataloging everything they see, analyzing and storing information. His presence feels controlled but somehow dangerous, like a carefully contained storm.

"And the blonde god next to him is Logan—he's a chef. Owns like three restaurants in San Francisco. Total player but so charming you don't even care." The blonde man is gorgeous in a completely different way—golden tan, easy smile, the kind of relaxed confidence that makes you instantly comfortable, like you've known him forever.

"Oh," I say, and suddenly wish I had on more clothes. When we get close, I feel like I'm surrounded by modern-day Greek gods who stepped off Mount Olympus and decided to have a barbecue. Next to them, I feel small and insignificant, like a sparrow among eagles.