Page 32 of Cabin Fever

“You won the lemonade war with a supply-chain blockade. You got Theo's bike back with a three-way trade I still don't fully understand. You wrote every single one of us an essay in Mr. Hart’s class, and . . .” He pauses, measuring his next words. “You saved her after your dad left.”

“That was way after you gave me the nickname,” I whisper, in a daze as his words sink in.

“Yeah, well. It held up, didn’t it.”

I grimace, my shoulders slumping. “Finn, I don’t understand! You act like—like you adored me as a kid, and you had to know how I felt about you, but then you were with all those girls, and that time at the creek . . .” I stare up at him, waiting, but he doesn’t answer. “You know that time at the creek?”

By his expression, I start to doubt whether he remembers that day as poignantly as I do.

Finally he says, “When we kissed?”

“What did you think I meant?”

He chuckles. “Not reading each other’s minds well tonight, are we?”

I huff and start to turn, but as soon as I move my shoulders, the string of my swimsuit tugs and releases. The strings slither over my skin and fall.

And so does my entire bikini top.

* * *

Dahlia claps a hand over her mouth. “Wait, it what?”

We’re in the comedy club hours before the first show, sitting in velvet chairs, waiting for the rest of the bachelorette guests to arrive. “Off. It fell off, Dahlia.”

“Off-off?” Priya asks.

“Yes! The tie was knotted into my hair from the wind, and he was helping me get it out⁠—”

“So he was behind you?” Dahlia reaches for the glass of champagne we were each handed when we walked in.

“Well . . .” I wince, and they squeal.

Dahlia slides halfway down her chair, laughing in the silence with her shoulders heaving. “What did—okay—what did HE do,” she wheezes. “What did Finn do? I need it exactly.”

This is the part that keeps replaying in my head. “Uh, he looked down and⁠—”

“Full on looked?” Dahlia interjects.

I nod. “It was kind of impossible not to.”

“Ha! Such a grand reveal!” Priya leans in, and I swear she’s about to fall off her chair.

“And?” Dahlia eggs me on.

I wet my lips, drawing out the next part for as long as possible. “He looked and said, ‘Well, if there was any doubt that you had nipples . . .’”

Dahlia’s eyes bug out of her head, and she nearly inhales her champagne.

“He commented on your nipples?” Priya’s horrified. “What an ass!”

“No.” Dahlia tries to compose herself. “No, it’s so funny. Ohmygosh.” She straightens in her chair and swipes at the tears rolling down her cheeks. “Harper talked about constantly⁠—”

“Not constantly. I brought it up a couple of times.” Like, possibly a couple of days ago in our stateroom. I leave that part out.

Dahlia explains how Finn used to call me Perry, and how I was offended that he’d compare me to an ugly mammal, “ . . . without nipples,” she finishes.

Priya laughs and looks at me. “Wait, you were worried about the no nipples part? What about the duck bill⁠—”