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Chewing on my lip, I tuck a few strands of my hair—dry, because Bennett didn’t want me to be cold, though I could tell it was difficult for him to not wash my hair—back over my shoulder, fiddling with the beanie.

“Actually, I have something to ask you.”

I nod for him to continue, cocking my head to the side. “Yes?”

“There’s a gala coming up. The Koteskiys do it every year, with a new charity. I don’t usually go, but this year I guess Sadie and her brothers are involved in it—so I told Rhys I’d go. Would you . . .” He trails off and clears his throat, hitching his shoulder up to his ear in one of his usual nervous ticks. “Would you want to come with me?”

It’s both funny and endearing, that Bennett Reiner can be so dominant and commanding in the bedroom—that he just finished fucking me brainless into the floor of the living room—but finds this question terrifying to ask.

“As your date?”

His smile warms me far more than the fire. “Yes. As my date.”

I half stand, leaning over to kiss his mouth. “I’d love to.” Sitting back down comfortably, I ask, “Why was that so nerve-racking? You had to know I’d say yes.”

“I never know with you, P.”

My stomach churns a bit at the honesty of his confession. “I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head, playing with his curls for a moment. They’re messy and boyish after being in a hat all day, then from the grip my hands had on them earlier.

“It’s fine. I don’t think I was prepared to take no for an answer on this one.” He grins, all playful, and it’s so intoxicating. I can feel my body warming again for him.

“No?”

“No. It’s going to be the first time my parents will be in the same room since my mom got divorced, so I need you there—as my date or as my friend. I would’ve accepted either.”

I freeze, trying to absorb the information he’s spilling without some massive outward reaction. “Oh? Are you worried about that?”

“A little.” He shrugs carefully. “But it’ll be fine. And you’ll be there, as my date. That makes everything better.”

My mind is flying, thoughts swirling so that I can’t focus on one point.

“Maybe we should talk more,” I offer. “About everything.”

His brow furrows, smile sliding slowly off his face. “No—no, we don’t need to.”

It would be so much easier to let it go. To go back to happy smiles and playful gestures, to let this beachside paradise be an oasis—but the reality is that it will become a mirage. It’s not real if we’re only like this together here. And to be real, it might have to hurt first.

“I’d like to,” I try. His jaw works, eyes staring toward the fire now, away from me, as he nods in concession.

His hands press together, squeezing—I imagine he’s trying to keep his fingers from tracing words across his thigh. “Okay.”

“Is everything okay with you?” I ask. “Not that—I just have never seen you skip class before, or practice. Just want to make sure.”

He smiles, but it’s brittle, like a push could break it to pieces. “I’m okay. I mean, for me, I guess.” The mass of his shoulders rolls with his shrug. His voice drops low. “You know how it is for me. It’s always difficult.”

“Is it?” I ask. It doesn’t matter if I think that I know him this way. It’s not enough. He has to tell me.

Another shrug. “Just keeping my head above water, P. It will pass, you know.” He looks out across the black expanse of the darkened ocean. “It always does.”

There’s a long moment of soft silence between us. My eyes graze over the golden light bouncing off his face, making his stubble-lined jaw sharper, his thick, furrowed eyebrows casting shadows over the ocean-blue eyes I could paint from memory.

“I don’t want to talk about me right now,” he says softly—nearly whispering. “If that’s okay.”

“That’s okay. But you promise you’ll tell me if things aren’t okay, right?” I ask. My hand reaches for his, intertwining our fingers. “Promise.”

“I promise.”