Page 31 of The Summer We Lie

"Sorry, I guess I was really thirsty," I say, feeling a little embarrassed at my eagerness, running my thumb along the condensation on the bottle.

He chuckles, the sound low and warm, vibrating through the kitchen. "The ocean will do that to you. Here, I'll take that and you can get a new one," he says, taking my beer from my hand, our fingers brushing momentarily.

"Thanks," I say and grab another cold one from the fridge. The glass is cool against my palm, condensation already forming on the bottle, beading like tiny crystals.

He shuts the fridge door with a soft thud and holds out his hand. I look at it, confused for a moment, distracted by the strong lines of his fingers.

"The tops," he says, nodding at the bottle caps with a hint of amusement in his eyes.

"Oh," I say and hand them over, feeling slightly stupid for not understanding immediately, my cheeks flushing again.

He opens a cabinet and tosses them in the trash with practiced ease, the metal pinging against other discarded items. "Come on, let's get you fed."

I follow him out onto the patio, the evening breeze catching my still-damp hair, and as soon as we step outside, Mr. Grayson looks over from his position at the grill. His expression darkens instantly, jaw tightening as his eyes move from me to Ethan and back again. He looks pissed, though I can't imagine why—I didn't do anything. The intensity of his gaze makes me clutch my beer bottle tighter.

I don't see Harper anywhere, so I walk over and take a seat beside Logan. Ethan sits down on my other side, effectively sandwiching me between them, their tall frames making me feel small but strangely safe. The evening air feels cool against my skin, still warm and slightly pink from the day's sun.

"To summer," Ethan says and holds up his beer.

I click mine against his, the glass making a satisfying sound that seems to hang in the air between us. "To summer," I echo, taking another sip of my beer, feeling very aware of Mr. Grayson's eyes still on us, dark and intense like gathering storm clouds.

Chapter Fourteen

Dominic

I watch Ethan slide in next to Skye, his intentions as subtle as a sledgehammer. My jaw clenches so tight I might crack a molar. The fucking audacity of both my so-called best friends has me seeing red, a possessive heat crawling up my spine like wildfire.

Just twenty minutes ago, they wouldn't shut up about her when we were alone at the grill, their comments hanging in the humid summer air between us.

"Did you see her in that bikini?" Logan had said, his voice low but not low enough for my liking. "The way the water ran down her⁠—"

I'd cut him off with a sharp "Enough," the word slicing through the conversation like a blade, but the damage was done. The image was already burned into my brain with devastating clarity—Skye walking back from the ocean, droplets cascading down her curves, that small black bikini clinging to her body like a second skin. Her small, perfect breasts peaked against the thin fabric. And when she'd turned to walk away...fuck. I couldn't help the groan that escaped me when I saw that heart-shaped ass that her bottoms could barely contain, the material riding up in a way that made my fingers itch to adjust it. Or remove it entirely.

I'd looked over to find both of them staring too, their gazes fixed on her retreating form, so I'd smacked them each upside the head with more force than necessary. "Keep your eyes to yourselves," I'd growled, the warning clear in my tone.

Logan had just laughed, completely unfazed. "That's rich coming from you. We all saw where your eyes were," he'd countered, raising an eyebrow that made me want to punch him.

Now they're flanking her like bookends at my own damn table, and I'm gripping the barbecue tongs hard enough to bend metal, the heat from the grill is nothing compared to the burning in my chest. I shoot Ethan my most lethal "back the fuck off" glare across the patio, but the asshole just ignores it completely, raising his beer in a toast with a knowing smirk that tells me he's enjoying this far too much.

"To summer," he says, and Skye clinks her bottle against his with a soft smile that makes something dark and possessive twist inside me.

A beer. She's drinking a fucking beer right under my nose. What is the right play here? She's technically underage, but she's also an adult. I'm not her father—thank God for that given the thoughts running through my head. Who the hell am I to tell her what to do? I damn sure don't let Harper drink except for wine on special occasions, and she's the same age. The double standard isn't lost on me, but I can't seem to reconcile it either.

Who is this girl? She's supposed to be a virgin, but she has tattoos snaking up her arm and that delicate nose ring catching the light when she turns her head. She drinks beer with my forty-year-old friends without hesitation. I can't make sense of her. Can't categorize her into any box my mind creates. Can't stop watching her every movement like a man dying of thirst.

"Sorry I took so long," Harper says, joining us outside. "I ended up unpacking everything in my room."

"I was wondering where you disappeared to," Skye says, looking visibly relieved to see her friend, shifting slightly away from Ethan in a way that gives me a perverse satisfaction.

I clear my throat, needing to regain some control over the situation. "You guys ready to eat?" My voice comes out rougher than intended.

A chorus of "yes please" and "yeps" rise from around the table, the scent of grilled meat hanging in the air.

"Everyone grab a plate and get what you want," I say, opening the grill before walking into the kitchen to grab another beer. I need it. Maybe something stronger, but a beer will have to do for now.

When I return to the patio, everyone is sitting at the table digging into their food, conversation flowing easily. I take a seat between Harper and Ethan because my asshole friends are still sitting on either side of Skye like devoted guards. I'll deal with them later, privately.

"Are you not eating?" Skye asks suddenly, looking directly at me with those green-gold eyes that seem to see right through my carefully constructed walls.