Clearing my throat, I gesture toward the remaining stakes. “Want help with the rest? I’ve got fifteen minutes left of my lunch break.”
He shakes his head, cheeks pink. “You don’t have to waste your break on this.”
“I really don’t mind,” I reassure him. “Seriously.”
“Thanks,” he says and hands me another stake.
“Just show me where you want it.”
The second the words leave my mouth, I realize how it sounds. Hunter bursts out laughing and clutches his stomach. My cheeks feel unbearably warm, and I want to crawl beneath the sand and bury myself like a crab.
“Oh, I’ll show youexactlywhere I want it,” he teases, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.
This is torture. I don’t think my face can get any hotter.
Hunter snickers at my reaction, shaking his head. “Relax. I’m just teasing you,” he says. “Follow me.”
He paces twenty yards away and points to a spot in the sand. I hammer stake after stake, marking out the corners of a plot. Hunter follows behind, stringing bright yellow twine between them to mark the perimeter.
“Thanks,” he says, smiling warmly. “Seriously. I appreciate the help.”
“No problem. I can help you with the remaining plots tomorrow, if you want. I’ve got the day off.”
His eyebrows shoot up. “You’d really do that?”
“Yeah. Least I can do, after you drove my sorry ass home from the bar,” I admit with a shrug.
His smile grows. “Meet here around noon?”
“Sure.”
“Great. It’s a date,” he says with a wink.
I stare at him, lips parted.
He snorts. “That was a joke.”
I laugh shakily. “You’re an asshole sometimes,” I mutter.
“Sorry. You’re just so fun to tease,” he says, eyes twinkling with mischief.
My stomach flutters. I’ve never felt like this before—so out of control of my own emotions. It’s horrifying.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” I mutter, turning back toward the lifeguard tower.
I don’t look back, but I can feel him watching me. I flip the sign again before climbing back up the lifeguard tower. As I watch the lake and scan the waves, every nerve in my body feels buzzed and raw.
Aliyah was right—crushes suck.
Chapter Ten
The next morning, I spent an embarrassingly long time picking out my outfit. Logically, I know it doesn’t matter what I wear. Hunter thinks I’m straight, and I intend to keep it that way. I’m just doing this because I owe him a favor.
No other reason.
Eventually, I settled on a white T-shirt I got in high school withClaremont Shores Swim Teamprinted on the front. The sleeves are cut off with jagged edges. I definitely chose it because it’s hot outside—not because it’ll show off my biceps. That would be ridiculous.
When I get to the beach, Hunter’s already there, crouched in the sand with his back to me. His backpack is unzipped on the ground next to him, overstuffed with crumpled papers, guidebooks, and tools.
