For a second, I let myself believe I was okay.

But then I made the mistake of glancing in the side mirror.

I hated how quickly my chest tightened.

Blake was still there. Still in the car behind us. Still too close.

I knew Sydney’s hand was probably on his arm, or in his lap, or tucked inside his palm like she belonged there. I knew he was probably pretending he didn’t care that I was in this car with Nathan—pretending he couldn’t see Nathan’s arm around me or the way he kept playing with the ends of my hair. I could almost hear the silent conversations he was having with himself.

I hated that I cared.

“You okay?” Nathan asked, his fingers sliding under the hem of my shirt just enough to touch bare skin.

I forced a smile. “Yeah.”

I didn’t look in the mirror again.

“Almost there,” Jamal announced. “You guys ready?”

No.

Not at all.

* * *

The ocean stretched out in front of us, waves rolling in soft and steady. Tiffany was stretched out on a lounge chair, lazily flipping through her magazine. Jamal, on the other hand, was trying to build a sandcastle.

Nathan sat beside me, legs stretched out in the sand, close enough that his thigh brushed against mine every time he shifted. The sun had already deepened his tan, making his skin glow in a way that would’ve looked unfair on anyone else. “This,” he said, “is paradise.”

I hummed, turning a page in my book. “I guess.”

He turned his head, giving me a frown. “You guess?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know, Nathan. It’s a beach.”

“It’s the beach.” He reached over, plucking the sunglasses off my face. “And you look way too good to be hiding under these.”

I squinted against the sun. “Nathan⁠—”

He leaned in, close enough that I could smell the faint trace of his sunscreen. “Tell me something,” he whispered. “Do I get to kiss you this summer? Or am I gonna have to work for it?”

I stared at him. “Wouldn’t you rather earn it?”

He grinned. “That wasn’t a no.”

I huffed a nervous laugh, shoving him away playfully.

“I’ll be patient, then. Come swim with me, Bev.”

“I’m reading.”

“You can read anytime,” he whined, leaning in until his lips brushed against my shoulder. “Come on. The water feels amazing. I’ll even carry you in like a princess, if you want.”

I ignored him, lifting my book higher.

“You really gonna ditch me for fictional characters?”

“Yes,” I said without looking up.

He let out an exaggerated sigh, as if I had just ruined the entire trip. “Fine,” he muttered. “Reject me and my love for the ocean. I’ll just have to swim alone.”

“You’ll survive.”