Page 33 of Tastes Like Summer

Michael laughs as they walk away, but I remain still and silent, because I know it was all a ploy to leave us alone.

After Danielle’s revelation, part of me wants to beg them to stay, while the other is ecstatic to have them gone, to give me the opportunity to figure out what it is I’m feeling now that this idea of a romantic something has been planted in my head.

“Did you have fun today?” Michael asks with genuine interest.

I swallow once and consider what Danielle said, about how he organized this afternoon for me. Even though I’m not sure I believe her, I want to make sure he knows I appreciate everything he did. Because regardless of why he did it, it was great, I felt welcome, and so did my kids.

“I had an amazing time, Michael. Really. I… I honestly can’t believe you pulled off such a barbecue. I mean,” I look meaningfully at the groups of people around us. “I feel like we’re the envy of everyone at the beach. This looks like a professionally catered event.”

“Well… It’s been kinda my job lately.” He chuckles and runs his fingers through his hair, hat discarded now that the sun has almost gone down completely. It’s almost dark now, but in the light of the bonfire, I catch the way his eyes light up, the way the green hue has changed once again to a lighter one—the same green they were earlier today when we talked about the wildly different experiences we had in our twenties as we walked along the shore. The need to figure him out, to match a hue to every mood is almost visceral. I get lost in his eyes, pulled in by the dancing colors reflecting the fire beside us, keeping us warm.

Before I can stop myself, I say “Your eyes are like some sort of mood ring.”

A single laugh bursts out from him. “Excuse me?”

“Oh, god.” I laugh, facepalming. “I just mean… I’ve noticed that your eyes—they’re more green than hazel⁠—”

“Yes, I know that.” He grins, thoroughly entertained.

“—and they change hues, and sometimes I swear it’s related to your mood.”

“To my mood?” Michael seems thrilled to hear this theory, but I personally want to die. Did I seriously just say that? Did I really word vomit to this guy what I think about his eyes?

God, maybe Danielle and Liza are right. Maybe this physical attraction is evolving into something else. It needs to end.

“Yeah. Like, when you’re excited about something they look really bright, the flecks of gold standing out. And when you’re frustrated with me—” I say with a chuckle—“they turn a kind of mossy green.”

He grins. “That’s it? I only have two moods, then? Excitement and frustration?”

“Well, no. Your eyes also look a deep emerald normally, which is kind of… beautiful. But then, today, it was the first time I saw them turn a deep color—almost forest green. Right before we went in the water.” When your eyes roamed over my body, when you smirked at me in that way I felt down to my toes.

“Oh, yeah? What do you think that one meant?” His voice drops a few octaves, some kind of mischief building in his expression while still darkening at the same time. His gaze drops to my lips as he moves closer to me.

Suddenly, our breathing speeds, and my heart races as something warm and delicious spreads through my body. Without meaning to, I lean in closer, the combined scent of citrus and sea salt falling over me, intoxicating. He’s so handsome. And he smells so good.

“Diana,” he murmurs, scooting closer to me on the log.

“Yeah?” I breathe, eyes on his mouth, daydreaming about what it would feel like to have it on mine or grazing my skin.

“I—”

An explosion of colorful lights flood the night sky above us, the loud sound causing us to jump apart as the Fourth of July fireworks go off. My cheeks blush as I look away, but I still feel his gaze on my face, my body as tense as a bow string. Slowly, I turn to face him, unsure of what I might find. But all I see is a man with a furrowed brow, confusion etched into his expression, as his face dances in red, blues, and golds from the lights above us.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, his eyes never leaving mine. There’s an ache in his voice, and I think it matches the one building inside me.

I inhale sharply, speechless.

What is happening?

My gaze roams over his face, looking for any hint that he’s playing me, making fun of me for this buzzing feeling that’s spreading all over my body. But there’s no trace of humor—no signature smirk, no teasing smile. It’s him. It’s Michael, raw and vulnerable, and in that second, it officially becomes my favorite version of him.

“Michael,” I say, not really knowing how to keep going. I rack my brain for how to follow it up, because it feels like we’re having a moment. But I’ve been out of the game so long that I have no idea how to respond.

Luckily, the vision of Camila running toward me in my periphery brings my parental instincts to the forefront, distracting me from whatever the hell just happened. Or didn’t.

When an out of breath Cami reaches me and looks nervously at Michael, I wonder briefly whether she saw our interaction, whether a part of her knows that something was going down between her friend’s dad and her mom—whatever it was. Thankfully, though, I shouldn’t have worried.

“Mami, can I talk to you super quick?” she asks, biting her lip. “Over there.” She throws a thumb over her shoulder, where I see Emi and Rachel huddled by the dunes.