Jesus Christ, Nick.

Her hair flew in tangles, her shirt was sooty from the fire, and coarse sand covered her legs. The textbook definition of a hot mess. Emphasis on the . . . stop.

“Hi, earth to Nick.”

Just have fun. Carter’s earlier demand popped into my head.

And so, I kicked off my blue foot-mobiles (sneakers), rolled my jeans above my knees, left my phone safe in the sand, and joined her in the great big pond (ocean).

“Ah, that’s cold. Real regrets.” The water lapped against my ankles. A chill had already shot my nerves.

“I did not think you’d come in,” she said.

Eliza had ventured deeper, now up to her knees. Hopping on one leg (to keep the other safe from frostbite), I waded over.

“Phew.” Holding her shoulder for support, I turned towards the twilight horizon, overdoing trying to seem pensive.

“I mean,” I said, “you should be swimming here with your boyfriend. Since he’s not around, looks like I’ll have to do.”

“If you push me in, I swear to God . . .” she said.

“I would never.”

“Nick—” Eliza gripped my arm as my body swerved, teetering from one leg to the other, purposefully off-balance.

When both my legs were safely back in the water, I gave her one last twirl, spinning her with our fingers locked together.

“Nick!” her shriek pierced across the ocean. She tugged on my T-shirt for dear life.

The moonlight sparkled on her lips, almost making me forget our impending hypothermia. She shivered against me as the calm waves crashed against our knees, the air filled with the salty ocean mixed with spicy cinnamon. Her loose hair tickled my face as it whisked in every direction.

Abort, abort, abort.

Somehow, my arm wound its way around her back, helping both of us balance against the electric weight of the other. Her waist pressed against mine, slowly swaying with her quiet breaths.

Eliza dragged her fingers through the water, swirling tiny ripples into my rolled-up jeans. I flicked a splash at her, well aware that she could have stepped away by now. Even more aware of how she was much warmer than I thought she’d be.

“Nick?” Eliza whispered. She relaxed her grip on my shirt and shook her hair into place. “Thanks, Maguire, but I didn’t come here with you.”

That statement was enough to throw anyone off their game.

“What are you talking about?” I asked, though we both knew what she meant. Though my thumb remained loosely tucked through the belt loop on her shorts.

I didn’t come here with you.

“Okay.” She stayed put too. “You throw me in and I’m taking you with me,” she said. “Mutually assured destruction.”

“In that case.”

Eliza yelped as I scooped her up, careful to keep my hands away from where they shouldn’t be. She fit into my arms like a goddamn princess, her warmth mixing with the cool breeze to make a dangerous energy.

Rocking her in the air, I tried not to freak her out. Tried not to freak me out.