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“By the way, what’s the deal with you and Ethan?” he asks, as if reading my thoughts.
“What do you mean?”
“Are you a thing?”
“No. Not at all. What makes you ask?”
“Oh, just because he’s currently looking over here like he wants to rip my head from my body. I would stop immediately because the dude could probably accomplish the task, but Isla’s standing right by him, glaring too.”
“Well then, don’t stop now. Actually, while you’re back there, would you mind rubbing my neck, right here?” I ask, pointing to the spot that’s tight from sleeping on the floor. He immediately obliges, pressing down hard and soothing the ache there. I practically swoon with relief. I don’t even have to fake this for Isla’s sake. I really needed someone to work the tension out of my neck and back.
“Tanner!” Isla shouts suddenly, coming over. “Hey, Ethan said he needed some help with breakfast.”
“It looks like he’s got it—”
“He doesn’t. Here, I’ll finish up Taylor’s sunscreen since I’ll need her to return the favor anyway.”
I want to thrust my fist triumphantly into the air for Tanner’s sake, but I keep myself perfectly composed as I glance over my shoulder and aim a sweet smile his way. “Thanks for helping.”
Then he’s gone and Isla takes his spot behind me, rubbing sunscreen onto my skin with short, angry swipes. In fact, it kind of hurts.
“You okay?” I ask, unable to hide the amusement in my tone.
“Peachy!” she says, her voice shrill. She tosses the bottle aside. “All done.”
I glance over my shoulder and laugh. “Isla, it’s not even rubbed in.”
“What do you expect? I’m not a professional sunscreen applier!”Through the second half of the morning, the tension around the lake is so thick I can barely breathe. Everyone’s aware of it. I aim furtive glances at Ethan every five minutes, Camille follows him everywhere he goes, Tanner hovers near me, Isla grumbles near the drinks, and Ethan pays no mind to anyone at all. In fact, I’d be hard-pressed to get his attention even if I suddenly went up in flames while bouncing on a pogo stick and playing the harmonica. Brody, Liv, Jace, and Alice seem to be enjoying it all from a distance while they sip their drinks, which I actually can’t blame them for. I’d be doing the same thing if I were them.
“Come hang out with me,” Tanner says, nodding his head toward the lake’s edge. It’s flat enough to spread two towels out beside one another, and the ground isn’t so pebbly that it’s uncomfortable.
I grab my book and lie down on my stomach, prepared to read, but that goes out the window once Tanner starts rambling on about Isla. To an outsider, it looks like we’re sharing an intimate moment, sunbathing together barely a foot apart. In reality, I’m trying to concentrate on my book and Tanner is yammering nonstop. I read the same paragraph four times and am actually relieved when a shadow eclipses my page. I glance up to find Ethan standing there, a veritable giant from this perspective. My gaze drags up his toned legs and abs, hitching on the subtle details: the veins on his forearms, the groove of his Adonis V just above his black swim trunks, the dark scowl he’s aiming at Tanner.
Only in the confines of my mind do I actually admit that he’s something to behold. So toned and yet not someone who lives for the gym, he’s someone who clearly uses his body for physical labor. It’s enough to make my mouth water, enough to make me lose track of my objective concerning him. Do I hate him for his arrogance or want him more because of it? Are we on track to kill each other or are we working toward an entirely different conclusion? One that promises slightly more pleasurable results?
This is the closest we’ve been all morning, and I’m acutely aware that I’m lying here in nothing but denim shorts and a bathing suit. It’s more skin than he’s ever seen—outside of the bath incident—but he’s not technically seeing anything, because his gaze isn’t on me at all. To him, I’m a ghost.
“Tanner, we’re playing volleyball. You in?” he asks. “Isla needs a partner.”
Tanner, having heard her name spoken in relation to himself, jumps to his feet like a well-trained puppy, and I’m left there on the towel, forgotten. I push up to sit, tucking my legs underneath me. Not surprisingly, my invitation to join never comes. Even more interesting, Ethan stays right where he is, hands propped up on his hips.
I know someone more diplomatic would offer a smile or maybe even an appreciative remark for allowing me to crash his weekend with his friends. I’d shrivel up and die before doing either.
“I know you’re probably itching to invite me to play as well,” I say with a teasing smirk, “but I’m happy right here.”
