Fucking Paul. “It’s okay,” I tell him, forcing a smile. “I totally could have won if he hadn’t kicked me out. It’s an old trick of his—sabotage. He was trying to cost me the game—”

Conor has yet to look away from my face. “Eli was on your team,” he points out.

Oh. Right. “He couldn’t stand not being the MVP. Jealousy is—what…?” I stammer to a halt. All of a sudden, Conor’s thumb is wiping back and forth at the base of my jaw, the pad of his finger cool in the rising heat.

“Smudge of sunscreen.”

“Ah.” I nod. “That’s fine then,” I say dumbly. As though he needs permission after the fact.

“Should we head back, Hark?” Paul asks him—and why is he here, again?

“Sure.” Conor sticks his bottle back in the cooler. Then tells me: “We’ll miss you.”

I snort. “The megging police clearly won’t.”

“True.” He grins, amused. “Others will, I’m sure.”

They jog back. I stare at Conor’s back, the ripple of muscles and tendons and bones and fat under his tanned skin, and try not to be disappointed when Paul is the one who turns around to smile at me.

If I wanted, I could walk northeast for ten minutes and reach Isola Bella. If I decided to break into an easy run, it would probably take me around half the time. The tide is low, and I can see the strip of sand that connects the island to the coast. There’s almost no one in that area—here in Taormina schools won’t be over until mid-June, and the beaches are on the lower end of crowded, especially in the mornings. If I went now, I wouldn’t even have to deal with other tourists. I am tempted, so tempted, but I’m intercepted by Kaede and Tiny, who both want to play, and when they beckon me to the non-football section where the others are lounging, I can’t say no to either.

Impossibly, Kaede is even more adorable than usual in her see-through plastic sandals and little arm floats—which are, spectacularly, Jaws themed. “Maybe I shouldn’t have let her pick,” Minami sighs. “Can’t believe I thought she’d go for the Barbie ones.”

“Promise me to never, ever change,” I whisper at Kaede as I strap on her suit, then watch her run toward the water, only to freeze when a wave inches toward her.

On the shore, we bake a sand cake that, I already know, I’ll have to make a show of eating. Avery swims a few feet away from us. When wet, her long straight hair reaches down past the middle of her back. The swimsuit she’s wearing is technically a one-piece, but its strategically placed holes remind me of an avant-garde sculpture, at once classy and complicated.

“Fish?” Kaede asks me, pointing at her.

I press my lips together, trying not to laugh. “More like a mermaid, princess.”

Kaede and Tiny run in circles around each other, both convinced that they’re the one being chased. They dip their feet (paws?) in the water, experimenting, trying to gauge the height of the splashes they can produce with the scientific focus worthy of a dam architect. I glance around in search of my phone, eager to take a commemorative video of baby’s first hydropower project.