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I’ve forced myself to be engrossed in an article about growing pears in California (thrilling), when Val walks up holding an assortment of bathing suits.
“I’m, uh… going to try these,” she says.
“You sound unsure about that.”
Val shrugs and looks at the change room but doesn’t go in.
I scan her face. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” She clears her throat, absentmindedly fingers the knot at the bottom of her oversized white T-shirt. “I’m just… I haven’t worn a bathing suit in awhile.”
“And this is a problem because…?”
She opens her mouth, seems to want to say something, but then thinks better of it. “I don’t know. It feels, like, embarrassing or something.”
“Embarrassing how?”
Val shrugs, but her gaze stays on the change room. All at once, I clue in to what she might be thinking… a thought process which is absolutely ridiculous and I intend to let her know. I place my hand firmly on hers. “Val, there’s no reason for you to feel embarrassed. Literally no reason.”
Her cheeks start to turn pink again. “No, that’s okay. You don’t have to say that.”
“I’m not,” I say, seriously blown away that she could ever feel this way. “This isn’t, like, me being nice or anything. Trust me, I’m not that nice.”
Val snorts, but she won’t meet my gaze.
“Come on. Didn’t you see the guy at the counter checking you out when we walked in?”
Now, she looks at me full on. “He did not.”
“He did.” My voice has dropped a couple octaves, sounds almost growly. Careful, Ethan, or you’ll give away how much that bothered you. “The point is, you’re hard on yourself, Teeny, but you shouldn’t be. Really shouldn’t be.”
Val’s still looking away and I have to repress the urge to tuck her hair behind her ear, run my fingers along the soft skin of her arms to reassure her. She swallows, finally meeting my eyes, and in those amber depths, there’s a wariness. Like she doesn’t believe me.
“You’re gorgeous,” I say, meaning every word. “You should see you how I see you.”
Val holds my gaze for a long moment. She’s testing me, and I don’t intend to fail. Don’t intend to let her down this time.
Something happens then—her expression clears and she smiles. She leans towards me slightly, so her hip presses into me. Before I can react, she pulls away and walks to the change room. “Okay, okay. I’ll try these on. No need to badger me about it.”
The tension of the moment breaks and I chuckle. “I’m here whenever you’re ready.”
In the end, Val chooses a high-waisted, slide-practical orange bikini that I already know will look fantastic on her. She goes to the front counter while I hang back, strolling around the shop while also subtly sizing up the worker.
He looks to be about our age, and is actually the shop manager, according to his nametag and his whole polo-shirt-and-pressed-khaki combo. He has shaggy black hair, a clean-cut appearance, and the kind of confidence that comes from knowing women find him attractive.
It doesn’t bother me to think of him flirting with Val. Not at all.
“Find everything you need today?” He places his hands on the counter, obviously flexing his triceps.
“Yup, everything was great.” Then, because she’s Val and she befriends everyone, she adds, “I forgot my swimsuit.”
“That’s what we’re here for.” His eyes don’t leave hers, and he crosses his arms casually. “You know, my dad owns Tumbling Waters.”
“Really?”
“Uh-huh. And it’s gonna fall to me someday. So, you know, I can probably get you in for free in a few years.”
Subtle.
