She gazed at him, her head cocked and resting on the heel of her hand. “Shouldn’t say what?”

“I heard you and my mom talking on the beach yesterday.”

“About what?” Lisa crushed her bottom lip with her top teeth, then released it.

Ryan couldn’t help noticing that she wasn’t wearing a bra beneath her pink silk pajamas. Her breasts were heavy, pointing down at the towel beneath her. His mind felt like it was covered in a greasy film.

He was quiet for a bit longer, then he said, “I heard you saying yesterday how you think Scott’s cheating.”

“Oh.” Lisa grimaced. “On the beach? You were there?”

“I was sleeping,” Ryan said, “but I woke up.”

Lisa scratched her nose and stared out toward the water. “Well,” she said, and then fell silent for a moment. “There you have it.”

Ryan said, “I think he’s an asshole.”

Lisa gave him a sad smile. A spider that was attached to the underside of the deck was descending in measured little jerks, and her eyes followed it, like a cat with a toy.

“I’m serious,” Ryan said. Words tumbled from him. “I’m serious. Cheating on you? I think he’s an asshole and he doesn’t deserve you. You are perfect.”

Lisa blinked. Her face was lovely. She leaned toward him first. At least that was how he perceived it. It was hard to say because suddenly something turned lusty and desperate in the air, inside Ryan, and the sky swelled toward him. She came with it, and suddenly her lips were on his. Then her hand was on the back of his head, fingers hungry, spidering through his hair, her tongue in his mouth. His fingers scooped greedily at the back of her neck and knitted through her hair.

Then she was on top, her full weight on him, straddling him, and they kissed there, lips and tongues searching and soft and muscular and reckless, four hands moving frantic and grasping here, rubbing there, the whole world pulsing with need all around them.

That was as far as it went. Lisa was the one who pulled away first, her crotch still on his, two layers of fabric, one silk and one cotton, the only barriers between their flesh, but Lisa pulled away, gazed at his face, and murmured, “No,” and she rolled off of him with great effort, panting, her eyes wild.

Ryan couldn’t speak. The whole world was in his throat. He lay on his back, and she lay there next to him, both staring at the sky, two wild hearts vibrating loud with lust and fear.

Lisa said in a breath, “I am so sorry.”

Ryan swallowed. “Me too,” he whispered.

It was quiet for a long time, until the night felt like a dream.

Finally, Lisa said, “Do you think it’s possible that that didn’t happen between us?”

“Yes.” Ryan nodded. “It was just a dream.”

Lisa got up first.

Ryan stayed outside a while longer. When he finally made it back to his bedroom, it was after four o’clock. He was sick over what had happened. He stared at the living crab in the glass of blue water and it stared back.