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But the strip-teasing man is still there, hands on his hips or possibly the sides of those briefs, yikes. “Holy!” What in the world? I pull in a breath and focus on Zev’s face. I look at his eyes, his nose, the way his full lips turn up. I study my friend and ignore the uninvited bachelor strip tease happening directly behind him.

I do not appreciate adult peek-a-boo shows from strange men. When Zev wavers to the left, I snatch a hold of his T-shirt and yank him right in front of me. He is the perfect giant wall to block my view. Turning him around so he faces the same direction that I do, I repeat, “Not the best view.”

“Rose, it really is—oh. Wow.” He clears his throat. “Whoa-kay. I see what you mean.” He spins back, facing me, his forehead screwed up in wrinkles.

“Yeah.” I clench my jaw.

“He’s not in direct view of the fireworks.”

I scoff. “Close enough.”

“Okay, but he can’t stay there all night. Right?” Zev peeks back at the man. “What is he⁠—”

“I don’t know!”

“He looks like he might lose those briefs⁠—”

“Which is why you’re blocking my view.”

“He’s just standing there. On display.” Zev cringes.

The sound is so horrified. I can’t help it, the strange reality of the situation hits and I plop down in my camp chair, laughing deliriously. Bonus—the lower view from my seat takes Magic Mike completely out of view. Of course, it also takes out the lake.

At this moment, though, it’s worth it.

“I promise. That’s—” Zev runs a hand through his hair, a ball of nerves, which only makes me chuckle more. “That’s never happened before. He must be new. He must be⁠—”

“Comfortable with his body?”

“I was going to say crazy.” Zev’s cheeks are flushed. He sits in the chair beside me and rubs a hand over his temple. Man, he’s cute. If my brain wasn’t broken and my heart wasn’t partly taken, I would be noticing how cute he is on a regular basis.

“Maybe he doesn’t realize we can see him,” I say.

“He’s standing in front of a glass door. Curtains wide open. How could he not know?”

“Maybe we should talk about something else while we wait. Get our minds off our… friend⁠—”

Zev’s lip curls. “He is no friend of mine.”

I smirk. “Let’s talk book swapping? What do you think?”

“Sure. Right now? Did you bring the book you promised me?” His brows lift, waiting for me to produce a book out of thin air.

“No.” I shrug. I am merely changing the subject from the practically nude man across the street. “I won’t forget. I’ll bring it to our next lunch.”

He lifts one brow. I think I’ve distracted him well enough. “Sounds good.” He digs in his canvas bag. “You want a drink?”

“I’ve been waiting for cinnamon bears for quite some time.”

“Right,” he says. “My bad.”

We have thirty minutes until the fireworks start. So, we stay safely in our seats, eating cinnamon bears and chocolate-covered pretzels and drinking Dr Pepper until Zev and I are the kind of friends that belch in front of one another.

Zev checks his watch. “It really is amazing if you can see the lake during the show.”

“Well, I’m not standing until you’ve checked that the OTHER show has ended.”

Zev huffs. I giggle. Then he stands, only to promptly sit again. “Or we can simply watch them in the sky. That works, too.”