“In the water. You’ve been filming everyone else. It’s time to focus on you.”
“I don’t—I’m not a water person.”
“You’re at the beach, wearing a swimsuit that somehow makes you even more stunning.”
Yes, my blue one-piece is cute, but not cute enough for me to immortalize in a picture.
“I’m observing on the beach. There’s a difference.”
He takes my phone. Hands it to Vi. “Film this.”
“Film what?”
Then he picks me up. Just lifts me like I weigh nothing.
“Julian! Put me down!”
“In a minute.”
He walks into the water. I’m laughing and protesting and clinging to his shoulders, and I can hear Violet cackling up behind us.
“This is not part of the plan!” I say.
“Plans change.”
“I’m going to kill you!”
“You’re going to thank me. This will get amazing engagement.”
He’s right. I hate that he’s right. Or actually, I think I love it.
The water is warm. Perfect. He sets me down, keeps his hands on my waist to steady me.
We’re waist-deep. Close. The waves push us together.
“This is for the camera,” I say.
“Of course.”
“We’re performing.”
“Absolutely.”
But his hands don’t move. And I don’t step back.
“Julian—”
“Your mother is watching.”
“I know.”
“Preston is watching.”
“I know.”
“We should probably kiss.”
My heart stops. “Probably.”
