Page 33 of We Are Just Us

“Yeah,” Kieran said. “I think I am.”

Rory smiled. “Good.”

They shared snacks from Rory’s bag, chips, oranges, a Kit Kat bar that melted a little too fast in the sun. It was easy in a way that surprised Kieran. Unforced.

Almost like a date that didn’t need to announce itself.

But it is not a date.

At some point, Kieran rolled onto his side, facing Rory. The sand stuck to his forearm, his hip, the hollow at his waist. He'd spent years trying to be less visible, and it had only made him lonelier.

The afternoon stretched on, the light beginning its slow tilt toward gold. Eventually, Rory sat up, brushing sand from his hands.

“Wanna walk?” Rory asked.

Kieran nodded as Rory gathered his bag, threw his towel over his shoulder, and didn’t put his shorts back on.

Rory started walking north as if this was simply the logical next step.

The beach thinned out the farther they went, fewer towels, more space between people, the energy shifting from public to looser and less curated. Bodies were still everywhere, people stretched, reclined, and moved without checking who was watching. It was the kind of place where no one apologized for existing.

They found a spot where the beach curved inward, sheltered by rocks. Rory dropped his towel and plopped flat on his back.

Kieran noticed all of it.

“You’re thinking too loud,” Rory said, his voice a rumble beside him.

Kieran glanced over. Every inch of Rory’s sun-kissed skin on display. He was all confidence and clean lines, a study in comfort. Kieran, by contrast, was a collection of awkward angles and held breaths.

“I’m not thinking anything,” Kieran murmured, his eyes fixed on the horizon.

“Bullshit. You’re cataloging every grain of sand between your ass and this towel. Relax. It’s just sun,” Rory said. “This is usually where I come when I want the sun to actually do something.”

Kieran eyed the slope. “Do something how?”

Rory sat up then, his movement fluid. He shot Kieran a grin that was pure mischief. “You ever tried perineum sunning?”

Kieran blinked. “Perineum sunning?”

“The taint. The gooch. The mystical bridge between balls and asshole.” Rory’s laugh was bright and effortless. “There’s a whole thing about it. Direct sunlight. Vitamin D absorption. Allegedly boosts testosterone, energy, all that.”

“That sounds like pseudoscience for idiots.”

“Probably,” Rory agreed, still grinning. “But it feels fucking amazing. Watch.”

Before Kieran could formulate a protest, Rory shifted. He planted his feet wide on the sand, knees bent, and let his legs fall open in a shameless, wide V. He arched his back, lifting his hips, presenting himself fully to the dying sun.

The sight of Rory splayed open and golden made Kieran’s mouth go dry.

He should look away. It would be the polite thing to do. But he couldn’t. The raw display was mesmerizing.

“See?” Rory’s voice was a little thicker now. “Heat. Right where you never think to feel it. Your turn.”

Kieran shook his head in protest.

“Come on, Doyle. Live a little.” Rory’s head was tilted back, eyes closed, a smile playing on his lips. “No one’s here. But you don’t have to.”

That did it. A quiet challenge from Rory. It landed low in his gut.