The temperature drops and the wind picks up, but I’m grateful for the change as I climb into the lifeguard tower. The beach is mostly empty, except for a few souls braving the elements. I watch a pair of parents sipping coffee from travel mugs while their kids build lopsided sandcastles, cozy in their windbreakers.
As I stand in the tower, the cold air nips at my nose. The waves are rolling with ferocity, slamming against the shore with rage. Above me, the yellow flag whips in the wind.
I don’t expect to see Hunter here today. Nobody in their right mind would willingly come here today.
But then again, he seems to be a glutton for punishment. That’s the only possible explanation for why he would want to spend time with me.
And then I see him. He’s kneeling by his experimental plot, wearing jeans and a long-sleeve shirt. He’s taking measurements ofplant stalks with a ruler and recording data in his notebook, struggling to hold down the pages in the wind.
No jacket. He must be freezing.
Every so often, he shivers. Not dramatic, but enough that I notice. Enough that it bothers me.
There’s barely anyone on the beach, and no one in the water. No emergencies. Which means I can step away for a few minutes without risking anyone’s life.
I climb down and cross the sand toward him.
“You’re crazy,” I say as I approach him.
I stand outside of the plot perimeter, not wanting to impede on his research area. He looks up at me, and I can see snot dripping from his reddened nose. It should be gross, but it’s not. It just makes me want to wrap him in my arms and shield him from the cold.
“I didn’t expect the wind to be this intense,” he says with a humorless laugh.
I peel off my red lifeguard sweatshirt and hold it out to him. Beneath it, I’ve just got a T-shirt on. He stares at the hoodie like I’ve just handed him a vital organ, his mouth falling open.
“Put it on,” I insist. “You’re shaking.”
He frowns stubbornly. “I’m not shaking.”
“You are. Like a chihuahua.”
He does that adorable grumpy nose scrunch again. My heart melts into a puddle of fond goo. I’ve never felt this weak for another person before—it’s scary and exciting at the same time.
“Take it,” I say firmly. “Seriously, I run hot. I’ll be fine.”
Hunter bites his lip like he wants to argue, but then he reaches out and grabs it. Bunched up in the fabric, his cold fingers ghost against mine. He slides the hoodie over his arms, wiggles his head through, and tugs down on the hem.
It swallows him a little. I’m at least five inches taller than him and much broader. The sleeves drape over his hands.
I’m not sure why the sight of him wearing my clothes makes my stomach clench. When I had girlfriends in high school, I used to getannoyed when they stole my hoodies. But with Hunter, I’d happily give him my entire wardrobe.
He exhales. “Oh my God. That’s so much better. Thanks.”
I shrug, pretending it’s no big deal. Pretending I’m not absolutely fawning over him wearing my hoodie.
“I can’t believe you’re here today. You should’ve stayed home.”
He hums and looks down at the sand. “I don’t like being alone. That house is so big. It’s… too quiet. I don’t have any family or friends out here.”
I cross my arms over my chest. My skin is prickled with goosebumps, but I don’t care. I’ll happily freeze my ass off if it means Hunter stays warm.
“You can always text me,” I say, maybe a little too eager. I quickly try to recover what little amount of dignity I have left. “Like, if you’re lonely or bored, and I have time to talk.”
His lips twitch. “I don’t have your number.”
“I can give it to you,” I say. “If you want it.”
He nods before handing me his phone, which is covered by a glittery rainbow case. I enter my number into his contacts, my frigid fingers moving glacially across the screen. When I hand it back to him, he tucks it back into his pocket.
