Page 32 of We Are Just Us

“Take your time. Nobody’s grading you.”

Kieran sat down fully clothed, legs bent, hands braced behind him like he was attending a lecture he hadn’t prepared for.

A voice called out nearby. “Rory! Haven’t seen you in a while! We need one more!”

Rory turned toward a small group setting up a volleyball net, laughing, gesturing, clearly mid-argument.

He looked back at Kieran. “You mind? Want to come along?”

“You’re going to play volleyball like that? No thanks. I brought my Kindle.”

Rory shrugged. “I don’t let clothes define my athletic ability.”

“Do you even know how to play volleyball?”

“No,” Rory said cheerfully. “But I’ve got gumption and no shame. That’s basically the same thing.”

Before Kieran could respond, Rory jogged off toward the group. Halfway there, without breaking stride, he reached up and flipped the cap backward.

“God. Damn,” Kieran muttered, involuntarily.

The game started. Loose rules, lots of shouting, more enthusiasm than skill. Rory fit right in.

Kieran told himself not to stare. He stared. With disbelief at how unfazed Rory was.

Rory glanced back, smiling.

After a few minutes, Kieran realized he was warm. Hot. His shirt clung to his back, the sun relentless.

I don’t have to, he told himself.

But also, I didn’t come all this way to sit in a shirt. Fuck it.

He pulled it off. Nothing happened. No one reacted. No one even noticed. That alone was a small miracle.

He let the sun hit his fair skin, waiting for the panic that never quite arrived.

“Okay,” Rory said, stretching his arms behind his head. “I’m starving.”

“From all that gumption?”

“Gumption burns calories,” Rory said, deadpan. “It’s demanding work.”

Rory sitting there naked, deeply serious about calorie-burning gumption—it broke through before Kieran could stop it. He laughed.

Rory’s eyes crinkled at the sound, pleasure crossing his face. “You don’t do that enough,” Rory said. “You should.”

Kieran’s face went red for the umpteenth time today. “I’m just not used to all of...this.”

“This,” Rory echoed. He flopped back onto his towel, throwing his arms over his eyes.

The sun climbed higher as the minutes passed, the air thickening, heavy with salt. Around them, the beach hummed with life, music drifting faintly from a speaker down the sand, the steady hush of waves folding over themselves again and again.

Kieran shifted onto his back, closing his eyes, exposed in a way that wasn’t physical. Shirtless in front of Rory, yes, but more than that—the exposure that came from being fully present in his body, without armor. Without apology.

When he opened his eyes again, Rory was watching him, somewhere between staring and devouring. Or maybe he had sunscreen in his eye.

“You okay?” Rory asked.