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She’d explode like that volcano model I built for my sixth-grade science-class project. The chicken-wire, newspaper, and Mod-Podge behemoth was a perfect replica of Kilauea. I was proud until it blew up on Mr. Akana’s desk, scorching half his beard. Students still call him Scarface.

If I’m not careful, I could be Scarface by Saturday night.

I glance away from my phone at the sound of metal clicking and latching. Sophia appears at the back gate. It’s not super dark, but I don’t like her walking the beach by herself. I flinch at the thought.

First, I’m keeping her from Adam, and now I’m worried about her nighttime beach walks? I’m turning into a crazy boyfriend, and I barely know this woman.

But you know she tastes like coconut cookies.

I groan and shift in my seat.

“Get in the pool, Soph. It’s so warm.” Amelia throws a beach ball in Sophia’s direction, but she smacks it back.

The ball bounces off Matt’s head, making him wail like a man-baby. Casey laughs, and Matt splashes her. Another water fight ensues. Amelia swims to the edge, away from the childish commotion.

Sophia crouches to brush her hand over the surface. She and Amelia chat quietly, but I catch Sophia’s gaze darting to mine.

My attention drops to my phone, but my ears tune in over the ruckus. Amelia’s laughter is the only thing that breaks through. I can’t help but look again, like someone said my name.

Sophia stiffens when our gaze connects, as if she’s been caught talking about me. She stands and crosses the patio, but she’s acting strange. Her movements are jerky, like she forgot how to walk. She trips over the outdoor carpet and stubs her toe on a potted palm.

“Are you okay?” I swivel my chair to study her.

She pauses inside the living area and turns to me like she’s been caught in the act. Of what, I’m unsure.

“What? Um, I’m fine. Totally.” She brushes her hair from her eyes and hiccups.

“Too many virgin piña coladas, Sparkles?”

I study the way she fumbles to respond. She’s more disheveled than the first time I saw her, and that’s saying something.

What’s got her worked up now?

She blows wisps of hair away from her face, and her gaze drops to the drugstore bag she’s carrying. I make out the shape of a box. Then she casually, not so casually, shifts so she’s holding the bag behind her back.

Well, now I need to know what’s in the bag.

“You caught me. Too many drinks.” She punches the air in jest.

She’s agreeing with me? Now I’m more suspicious.

Sophia scurries across the living room, almost knocking over a floor lamp before stumbling on the stairs. On the second floor, she pauses on the landing to awkwardly eye me one last time before slipping into the bedroom and slamming the door.

What was that?

I glance at Amelia for an explanation, but she’s busy shoving Matt’s head underwater. It’s a drowning attempt I fully support.

I can’t remember what I was doing before Sophia showed up, because now I’m worried about her again. I rub my sweaty palms down my thighs right before I stand.

Moments later, I’m staring at our shared bedroom door, but I’m unsure of our cohabitation rules. Should I knock? Walk in? Announce myself? The only thing we talked about was trying not to murder each other. Arguably, it’s the most important rule.

Going with the path of least resistance, I lift my hand to knock, but my knuckles pause in midair when I hear something unusual. I hold my breath and lean closer because I need to make certain I heard what I think I heard.

From the other side is a low buzzing noise, followed by one beautiful drawn-out moan.

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sophia