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“I don’t think so.” I stretched my neck, feeling the sun resting on my wet cheek.
“Same body, same radiant smile,” Mila protested.
“Same sweet guy,” Gemma added, incorrectly labeling me as something I wasn’t. Still, her casual recognition felt like an award, a trophy for a test I cheated on. “Who came in second?” Gemma asked, returning to her Vogue magazine.
“It doesn’t matter,” Mila replied, “number one is the best.”
“Tell me. I’m curious.” Gemma maintained, licking her finger and turning a page.
“Eh… the score was off by two points, not your type.”
“Oh, come on.”
“Chris Evans really is sexy though, don’t you think?”
“Camilla!” Gemma laughed, “Who came in second?”
Mila mulled over the page, her words almost too fast for me to even register. “Just… Alex Rivers.” She blurted out, as if to remove the name from her mouth.
My ears began to burn.
“Oh…” Gemma pretended not to care about the name that nobody wanted to hear. The mere mention of Alex deflated the mood like a vacuum of fun, the girls’ giddy laughs now stifled into a suffocating silence.
The very mention of that asshole annoyed me, my abs and arms particularly hardened, aggravated by the imaginary left hook I pictured giving him for the thousandth time. Briefly, he had Gemma, and within that small amount of time, he managed to hurt her, it was so apparent. Telling Gemma that I loved her like a sister was by far the biggest, stupidest mistake of my life, but at least I had always trusted it was for the best. I couldn’t imagine this was true for him, not with his history, not with his tendency to leave when things got tough. I hated him, maybe even as much as I hated myself.
“You’re coming with Parker and me to Montauk tonight!” Mila quickly added, “I won’t take no for an answer. I already did my research and found us a place that’s known for their coconut shrimp and double cheeseburgers.” She reached out and rubbed Gemma’s shoulder. “You like burgers, right?”
“Love them,” Gemma smiled, but I gathered the mention of Alex sat heavy on her heart. She was so good at hiding her feelings though, something she thought she could do around me, but I knew better. I didn’t like to pry; I didn’t want to make her uncomfortable, but I always sensed when she was hiding something, and damn it if it didn't make me want to dig deeper, to finally get uncomfortable. I’d never shame her; I’d never let her believe that she was anything but loved. Didn’t she know that, even without my confession? Didn’t she know I was always completely and utterly here for her? I wanted to prove it over and over again.
“Mila, dear!” Mom came out from the large French doors, tossing a lime in her hand. “I’ve come to steal you!”
“Steal me?” Mila asked, her otherwise vibrant nature shier around my mom, possibly intimidated.
“Don’t worry, I’ll bring you back. I’ve always wanted two daughters, and luckily now I have them. I’m going to show you my secret margarita recipe, which will now beoursecret recipe.”
Two daughters?Guilt twisted in my stomach. Mom was showing her a secret recipe, forming traditions, building bonds. That was unfair to Mila, considering what I knew I had to do. I wanted to stop it all but was helpless at the moment.
“I’d love that… Mom,” Mila said, flashing a timid but bright smile.
Mom covered her mouth with excitement as she helped Mila off the lounger. “What an angel! You want one too, Butterfly? Parker?” Gemma nodded, but I shook my head.
“Not a fan of tequila.” I calmed my stomach, reminding the crowd of something Gemma already knew so well. I could tell she wanted to tease me, but she didn't, instead she gave me a sly grin as she pulled her sunglasses down.
I rolled my eyes as Mila laughed, her and Mom’s excited chatter faded away as they returned inside, leaving me and Gemma alone. She put her magazine down and lifted a peach gummy from the bowl, garnering a newly sweet aroma as she bit into its center.
“You hot?” I dunked my head back, allowing the cool water to fall over my shoulders as I rose back up.
“Warm,” she answered. “Kinda sweaty, actually.”
“You want to get in the pool?”
“Hmmmm… maybe.”
“Maybe? Don’t be shy.” I taunted, gauging her reaction. Something about the word shy made her hesitate, almost giving me a double take.
She shook her head.
“I’m not shy,” she lifted herself from the lounger to sit near me. She placed her feet into the pool, distorting her toned legs into rippled mirages of untouchable treasures. “Just don’t think about pulling me in, Parker Ellis Jones!”
