The sun is low in the sky as I walk toward the beach, and big fluffy clouds float in the distance, promising a gorgeous romantic sunset during my date with Bentley. Damn it, August, you couldn’t have made plans with Ella one hour earlier?
I kick off my sandals at the edge of the beach and retie my white hoodie around the waist of my long maxi dress. I head for the sandy path and follow it past the dunes, onto a mostly empty expanse of beach. There are a few dog owners playing catch with their pets, a few families packing up their gear, and Bentley. He’s down by the break, jeans rolled up under his knees and his ankles in the water.
Bentley turns as I approach, and the glowy light illuminates his sun-bleached hair.
“Hey,” he says, all nerves.
“Hey yourself,” I reply, not exempt from nerves, either.
He steps out of the water and joins me on the warm sand. “You came.”
I laugh, dropping my sandals. “You thought I wouldn’t?”
“Maybe?”
“And risk you throwing pebbles at my window in the middle of the night again? Nope.”
“No regrets.” He holds eye contact and gives me a small hopeful smile. “It got you here.”
No wonder girls fall over themselves to get his attention. That look is nice. Really nice.
“Should we walk?” I ask, changing my mind about the sunset being a problem.
“Yeah, sure,” he says, and we turn, making our way through the sand at a slow pace.
“What’d you do today?” I ask.
“Surfed before the twins woke up, then took care of them, and now I’m here.”
“Are you thinking of getting a summer job?” I’m not sure how to get away from these generic questions. We’ve known each other most of our lives; we live only a couple hundred feet apart. And yet, I don’t know much about Bentley other than a handful of childhood memories and surface details.
“I’d kill to work at the Surf Shack,” he says.
“So why don’t you?”
He shrugs.
“No response?”
“I can’t work there is all.”
“Did you apply?” I ask. “Everyone knows you’re a good surfer, I bet they’d hire you in a second.”
He shakes his head but again offers no explanation.
“So that’s it?”
“I guess.”
I sigh, and because I’m me I call the situation out for what it is. “You know we suck at this conversation thing, right—you more than me with your nonanswers, but we’re both crap. How do we fix that?”
“Sorry,” he says, not joining in the humor. “Is it cool if we just don’t talk about my family?”
This catches me off guard. “We weren’t talking about your family, were we?”
“No, I mean . . .” He pushes his hair back from his forehead. “So what did you do today?”
I stare at him, not sure where to go from here. This is one of the most awkward conversations I’ve ever had, which is shocking considering I’m best friends with August.
“Okay, wait,” I say, stopping in the sand.
He stops with me. “Val—”
“Hang on.” I lift my hand. “Let me get this out, ’cause otherwise I think we’re about to have the worst sunset walk of all time, which is basically a travesty.”
He looks out at the water and then back at me.
“How come we always go from happy and easy to . . . this?” I gesture to the space between us. “I’m just confused.”
He rubs the back of his tan neck. “It’s not you.”
“It kinda feels like it is me. Like at any moment I might say the wrong thing and we’ll be right back to our fight in the kitchen.”
“I just . . .” He drops his arm. “I didn’t want to tell you that I can’t get a regular job because my mom can’t afford childcare, okay?”
And now I’m way more confused than I was a minute ago.
He lifts his hands. “I didn’t want you to think I was a giant loser.”
“Wait, what?” I choke. “That does not make you a loser. It makes you a great older brother.”
“Your family lives in that big house. Your parents are so nice. You’re just . . . perfect. I didn’t want to blow it.”
If I thought I was at a loss a second ago, he just upped it. “Wow, Bentley. I don’t know if I think you’re sweet or if I’m really insulted. You said I’m perfect, which isn’t true, but okay. Let’s go with it. If I were perfect, would I ever judge you like that?”
“Probably not,” he admits.
“No probably about it. I’d never think less of you for that, and if I did, you shouldn’t like me at all. So don’t ever underestimate me like that again.”
But instead of apologizing, he smiles.
“What?”
“I just didn’t think you could get any prettier,” he says, and I don’t know if I want to accept his compliment or scowl to get my point across.
“You better be saying that because I’m honest and not because you want to bone me.”
His grin grows. “I’m saying it because you’re confident.”
“Right, well, yeah,” I say. “Thanks.”
Now he laughs. “Do you remember that time when we were seven and Charlie Atkins pinned me to the baseball field and shoved muddy grass down my pants?”
I smile. I had actually forgotten about that. “I kicked him in the balls.”
“You totally did. You told him that if he did it again you were going to drag him by his Batman underwear through the playground.”
I laugh. “I did say that, didn’t I?”
“I think half the class had a crush on you that day.”
“Because I swooped in and saved you?” I say, adding humor to his admiration because now it feels more real and I’m not sure what to do with that.
“Exactly.”
“It’s funny, ’cause now Charlie’s three times my size and you guys are best friends,” I say as we start walking down the beach again, this time without the stilted conversation.
“I bet you could still take him, though.” He reaches out and touches my upper arm.
I flex my nonexistent muscles in his grip. “I mean, obviously. You should bench with me.” I look at his perfectly cut arm. “I could teach you a thing or two.”
“Done,” he says, and before I even realize what’s happening, he circles one hand behind my back and one below my knees and picks me up. “You’re lighter than my normal weights, but much prettier.”
I laugh. “You know that isn’t what I meant.”
But he makes no effort to put me down.
“Bentley.”
“Valentine?”
His arm is warm against my back, and I can smell the remnants of his sunscreen and the salt water in his hair. And while I’ve never really thought of myself as someone who was into the whole broad-shoulder thing, Bentley up close is kind of beautiful with his tanned skin and sun-chapped lips.
“Are you planning on just carrying me for the rest of the walk?” I say, secretly enjoying it.
“Nah. I’ll totally put you down,” he says and takes a step into the water.
Without thinking I wrap my arms around his neck. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“Wouldn’t I?” He takes another step, so that the water hits him midcalf.
“Bentley Cavendish, I swear I will kill you.”
“What was that? Couldn’t hear you over the sound of that wave.”
I whip my head toward the ocean only to discover he’s right: a big wave is headed our way, and while it probably won’t knock us over, it’ll do a hell of a job getting us wet.
He stands his ground and I squeeze my eyes shut, bracing for impact. But at the last second, he takes three steps backward, and while the wave misses us, the spray mists my feet.
Bentley chuckles and puts me down in dry sand.
I unwrap my arms from his neck and hit him right in the chest. “You are such an idiot.”
“Maybe . . . but I did get you to smile.”
“I definitely wasn’t smiling,” I reply, even though I suspect I was.
Amusement teases up the corners of his mouth. “Says the girl who just called herself honest two minutes ago.”
My eyes widen. “Wow. Now I want to hit you again.”
He steps closer and takes my hand in his, placing it on his chest. “Here, I’ll help you.”
I shake my head, but logic has become an ephemeral thing, no easier to grasp than a cloud. His heart beats a mile a minute under my fingertips, and mine speeds up to match it.
His clear blue eyes soften in a way I didn’t know they could. “You challenged me to kiss you the other day in my kitchen.”
“Correction: I challenged you to show me your game.”
“But I didn’t. You know why?”
I want to respond, but my thoughts are convoluted nonsense. I’m currently touching Bentley Cavendish’s very beautiful chest, I’ve recently discovered he’s not the shallow idiot I thought he was, and my stomach is dipping in a way that makes my skin tingle.
“Because I’ve liked you since forever.” His voice is uncharacteristically quiet. “And I wanted our first kiss to be better than that.”
“Better?” I swallow, not moving an inch, not telling him to stop leaning closer. In fact, I think I’m the one who’s gravitating toward him.
“Better,” he repeats, tentatively reaching his hand out to rest on my hip. “I wanted you to know that when I kissed you, it mattered.”
I feel the heat of his palm through my dress, and his fingertips press lightly into my skin. “Prove it,” I say in almost a whisper, and the corners of his mouth pull up mischievously.
He glides his hand from my hip to the small of my back, gently pulling me into him, and when our bodies touch, I feel brighter, like I swallowed the fading sun and it filled me with its warmth. He pauses, our chests rising to meet one another with each breath and our lips slightly parted. His expression shifts ever so slightly to a question, as though he’s checking if this is okay. I nod almost imperceptibly, not only wanting him to kiss me but needing him to.
Some part of him must understand because he lets out a breath that feels like relief and his other hand moves to the base of my neck, gliding into my hair. His stomach tightens as he tips his head down, and when his lips angle toward mine, I press against them. He’s gentle with me, but as he teases my mouth open, my whole body goes pleasantly taut. I wind my hands into his hair and push up onto my tippy-toes, pressing closer even though there’s no space left between us. My enthusiasm pulls a sound from him, small and quiet, but the feeling of which rumbles through my body like the base of a stereo. And suddenly, I want this. I want the taste of his sun-drenched kisses and the strength of his hands on my back.
We stay like that a long time, learning each other and finding our rhythm. And when the sun disappears and we know it’s time to leave, I brush the tips of my fingers against his lips like I could take the essence of them home with me.