Gray laughs before he grabs my hand and pulls me upright. We start running down the beach in the direction of the bed-and-breakfast. The sand we’re kicking up sticks to my calves in wet globs. And the rain keeps falling in thousands of tiny drops that have the effect of an aimed hose. My dress can’t absorb any more water. It starts slithering off the fabric in endless rivers, forming tiny valleys in the malleable sand.

The only structure in sight is one of the lifeguard huts they store equipment in. When we reach it, I sigh. The overhang is only enough to shield half my body, and there’s a padlock on the door.

Gray fiddles with it, then lets out a grumble of annoyance. “Dammit. Different lock.”

I arch an eyebrow. “You break into beach huts on a regular basis?”

He huffs a laugh as he presses his back against the locked door and turns his head, so the runoff from the roof only hits the front of his shorts and shirt. “I worked at that surf shop by Tremont Beach in high school. Those shacks all had faulty locks that would open if you jiggled them right. When we had parties, I would take, well…yeah.”

I don’t hide my smirk. “Didn’t really think that story through, huh?”

Gray rolls his eyes while also managing to appear sheepish.

“It’s fine. I know you weren’t a virgin when we hooked up.”

We stare at each other until I become self-conscious.

“We should probably just make a run for it. It doesn’t look like this will let up anytime soon.”

“Yeah, okay.”

I lean down and wring out the hem of my dress. “Ready?”

“Hang on.”

He moves out from the shelter of the overhang to press against me, so I’m caged between his wet clothes and the wooden exterior of the hut. Water pours between us like a waterfall until he leans forward and presses his wet lips against mine. His body shields mine from the downpour. He tastes like beer and rain—which I didn’t know had a taste until right now.

After a few seconds, he pulls back. “Ready.”

We start sprinting down the beach.

CHAPTER TEN

Streaks of pastel are creeping across the sky when I walk out of the sliding doors of Charleston General. I blink at the foreign sight of natural light like a baby bird that’s just emerged from the blackout of an egg.