Page 26 of Tastes Like Summer

“Lexi?”

“My cousin. Business partner, too. She’s married to Lauren, over there.” I point to where they both stand, huddled next to one of the coolers. When I catch them staring, they quickly turn and face different directions.

Smooth.

“Ah.” Diana shifts her canvas tote from one shoulder to the other, and that’s when I see the welts it’s left on her skin.

“Jesus, that’s just from carrying this from the parking lot to here? It’s that heavy?”

“It’s got all the girls’ stuff. And mine.”

“Give me that; let’s set it down.” In an uncharacteristic move, Diana lets me help her by gently pulling the bag off her shoulders.

“Careful. There’s an apple pie in there, too.”

“You shouldn’t have—really. I told you in my text last night we were more than good on food.”

“I know. And I know it’s extremely lame to bring a store-bought apple pie compared to all this, but it goes against every grain in my body to just show up with three hungry people and nothing else.”

I laugh, and pull out the pie box from inside the tote and place it over one of the coolers. “Two kids is the equivalent of, like, one adult, so it’s not a big deal at all,” I joke. She snorts. “And I’m sorry to disappoint you if you guys are already hungry, but the food isn’t ready yet,” I say with a grimace, cursing myself for not setting up earlier. “We were hoping to have the actual food for sunset, and that’s a few hours away. But we have snacks and drinks and stuff. Can I get you anything while we get the grill going?”

“What is everyone having?” She looks around the group. The wind whips at her loose curls, finally free of a bun. And I love it. Am obsessed with the way her long, dark hair falls over her shoulders, the way it makes her look a bit more unwound—carefree. As she always should be.

I take this time to look at her—really look at her. Soak in the glow of her skin and the small mole right above her lip. The delicate curve of her neck. The way her chocolate brown eyes squint in the sun while she holds a hand up to protect herself from the rays.

“Michael?” she asks, breaking through my wayward thoughts.

“Mmm?”

“I was just asking what snacks you have?”

“Ah. Yes. Well. Hummus and carrots and chips and some other stuff.”

She makes a face. “Do you have something a little more refreshing?”

I laugh. “Would you like to see a menu?”

She blushes and shakes her head. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to sound ungrateful. It’s clear you’ve done… so much work for this.” She looks around at our set-up.

I laugh, and reach out to touch her wrist, but immediately pull my hand away. “Hey, I was just joking.”

She sighs. “Sorry. I’m just having a particularly exhausting day. I was trying to catch up with work and some coursework. And it’s really so hot…” She shakes her head. “I honestly can’t wait to get in the ocean.”

I suppress a groan because I just know I’m going to fucking die the second I see her wet in that red bikini like some sort of scene out of Baywatch. But better.

“So you obviously need a pick-me-up,” I say, trying to steer my brain away from my imagination and back to the present. I lead her over to one of our larger coolers, pop it open, and dig through the ice almost all the way to the bottom, wincing at the cold ache in my joints, the blade-like slice of ice over my skin. After a few moments of painful digging, I pull out just what I was looking for. The look of pure happiness on Diana’s face brings me more satisfaction than I’m comfortable with, the way my chest tightens leaving me a bit disoriented.

“A bomb pop?” She gasps, reaching quickly for the red, white, and blue popsicle.

Her enthusiasm makes me laugh again. She’s so fucking adorable when she’s happy, and it’s addictive to help make it happen. “Yes and no. It’s one of the healthy ones because I’m trying to be a responsible parent. Sugar free. But yeah.”

“Oh my god, yes. When we first moved to the US, these quickly became one of my favorite things.”

“How old were you when you moved to the US?”

“Mmm, around thirteen?”

“Really?” I inhale sharply, a surge of happiness coursing through me from peeling back another layer of who Diana is. She’s been such a mystery since the beginning of the summer, only showing me pieces of her—and reluctantly so. The thrill of this discovery is surprising.