“Sheesh.” Sloane suddenly appears beside me. “I feel like I accidentally ended up at a high school reunion. Just ran into Landon Jones and Macy Thompson.” She leans past me. “Hey, Gray.”

“Hi, Sloane.”

Her gaze lingers on his abs, which makes me want to do something really irrational, like tell him to put on a shirt.

Sloane lies back down on the blanket next to me. “What happened to the rest of the guys?”

“They’re surfing.”

“’Kay. Wake me up when they’re back. Or when it’s five. I made reservations at Sakura for seven.”

“Okay.” I’m barely listening, far more focused on watching Gray as he untangles the ankle strap connected to his surfboard.

A few seconds later, he stands. My stomach fills with disappointment.

He looks at me, but he doesn’t say a word before turning and walking toward the water. I bury my face in the towel and sigh.

I can’t believe I’m wearing heels again. My feet aren’t happy about the decision either. Sloane insisted they’re super comfortable and they go perfectly with the blue dress I’m wearing. I believe her about the latter, but I’m calling bullshit on the former.

Sloane strides confidently inside our destination, a popular bar on King Street. I stumble behind her, feeling the raw fish, seaweed, and sake I had at dinner slosh around in my stomach. I would love to be curled up on the couch in sweatpants right now. But if I were, I know I’d be analyzing every word Gray said earlier for the thousandth time. This is healthier even if the air is so thick with cologne and vape smoke that I can barely breathe.

We squeeze in at the packed bar. Lines of liquor bottles sit on shelves with mirrored backgrounds, making them appear endless. Sloane debates between ordering a Moscow mule or a Paloma as I watch the bartenders rush about. I worked at a bar down the road from my apartment in Boston my first summer there until my school schedule became too hectic to manage both without losing my mind. It was fun, though. Shifts would pass quickly, and people would tip well.

A bartender appears. “What can I get you ladies?”

Sloane nods to me. “You go ahead.”

“Gin and tonic, please,” I order.

The guy nods, then turns to Sloane. She starts asking questions about one of the specialty cocktails. I hide a smile, suspecting her interest in the Double Standard has more to do with the fact that the bartender is young and attractive than the drink itself.

I fish my phone out of my clutch while they flirt and scroll through my new notifications. Photos from my mom, junk emails, and new messages from Noah, Logan, and two from…Gray Phillips. Instantly, butterflies appear. My palms start to sweat.

Sloane is still busy talking to the bartender. I unlock the screen and tap on his name.