Sitting back in the shadows, under a giant hat and sunglasses and an umbrella, a floor-length voluminous coverup over my swimsuit, I watch him looking like the sun exists simply to shine on him.
Then he looks over at me, a playful smile on his face, head still cocked to one side.
“Move,” he says.
“You move,” I start but he’s already pushed my foot aside as he crawls up the chair toward me and before I can do anything he’s draped over me, his back to my chest and his head on my shoulder, one hand on my thigh.
“Oh. Hi,” I say, stupidly, panic fluttering in my chest for no reason at all. I put the book down. “You’re still wet.”
He grabs my ankle and crosses it over his thigh so we’re tangled together, this chair clearly meant for one person, his skin water-cooled against mine. My heart’s beating so hard I wonder if he can hear it.
“It’s a nice day, you’ll dry soon enough,” he says, voice lazy like sunlight.
“Hmph,” I say, but I realize that my hand is already trailing through his wet hair, the slight curls wrapping around my fingers. Silas sighs and sinks into me a little more, his fingers drawing slow shapes on the inside of my knee.
Evan and Olivia must be here, somewhere. Silas must have seen them and come over to ostentatiously cuddle me because running into them is the point, after all, but I don’t ask. I don’t even look.
Instead, I drape my other arm over his shoulder, flatten my palm against his chest, feel it rise and fall as he breathes. He puts his hand over mine like it’s second nature.
It takes a long time, but he’s right. We dry eventually.
* * *
I takeanother sip of my drink, leaning back against the balcony railing, watching the glass doors to the lobby and bar.
“What was that story you started telling me?” Silas asks. We’re facing in opposite directions and he’s leaning his forearms on the railing, his drink already finished, looking out over the pool with its technicolor lights.
“I told you a story?”
“In the alleyway, outside karaoke,” he says. His forearm’s against my waist, warm through the thin jersey of my maxi dress. His voice is warm, too. “Something about everything but tin being illegal.”
“Oh, God,” I say, huffing out a laugh.
“What?” He’s grinning, those eyes dancing like I’ve told a joke.
“It was…” I look at him, then away, and lose the words. “Nevermind.”
“Do you think saying nevermind is gonna call me off?”
I sigh, stretching my neck backward, closing my eyes. The day’s finally cooled off and there’s a slight breeze out here, just enough to move my hair around.
“I don’t think a legion of tanks is gonna call you off.”
“That’s not what you call a group of—”
“Sorry, a gaggle of tanks.”
Silas snorts.
“A flock?”
“Quit arguing and tell me already,” he says. “We both know you’re gonna.”
I sigh, then take a sip of my nearly-empty drink. It’s the same drink I got at the bar last night, because that drink was good, and because it had a cherry. This one does, too, and I haven’t eaten it yet.
Not because I’m hoping Silas will steal it again. I just… haven’t.
“It was a D&D campaign I did in college,” I tell him. “I used to run them. That’s how I met Anna Grace, actually.”