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They walked down a dirt road, which was lined on either side with camping spots: designated rectangles of lawn accompanied with numbered wooden posts. There was a white-haired couple sitting in front of a fancy caravan, sipping on tea in metal cups; families with squealing children; a group of women blasting pop music from a speaker. They looked to be around twenty years old or so — Miles and Beckett’s age. If Callum were here, he’d be chatting them up in a second. Miles was too shy for that, and besides, he wasn’t interested in a relationship right now. As for Beckett — well, the strange thing about Beckett was that Miles had never witnessed him ever flirt with a girl before.
Okay, it wasn’t strange. That sounded judgmental. It was simply…surprising. Especially given Beckett’s face.
The road narrowed into a walking track that led them up a low hill. At the peak, a view of the beach was spread out below them. The ocean was as blue as the sky, so in the distance it was difficult to see where one started and the other began. Gentle waves kissed the white beach, which was curved into a C shape. There were less than twenty people sunbathing on the sand, and even fewer in the water. So different from the crowded beaches of Melbourne.
Beckett led the way down creaky wooden stairs, and they found a spot on the sand in the shadow of a gum tree. After laying out their towels, they applied sunscreen. After Miles had rubbed some onto his face, torso and limbs, he attempted to do his back by twisting his arm around.
“Let me do it,” Beckett said, stepping up behind him and moving Miles’s hand out of the way.
“Oh. Thanks,” Miles said, not able to hide the surprise in his voice. There was a reason he hadn’t asked Beckett to apply it for him in the first place.
He kept still as Beckett rubbed the sunscreen in, first on his back, then his shoulders, his hands gentle yet firm. Miles wondered what it would feel like if Beckett wasn’t gentle. If he manhandled him. Not that he ever would — Miles had never witnessed Beckett ever so much as throw his controller when playing video games. He never slammed his desk when his computer froze five minutes before an assignment was due. He didn’t even swear when he stubbed his toe, just grimaced. Yeah, it would really take something big for Beckett to push him around. For Beckett to lose his composure.
Beckett’s palms slid up to do the back of Miles’s neck, and Miles shivered.
“Alright, that should do it,” Miles said, stepping out of reach and spinning around. “Do you want me to do you?”
Beckett leaned backwards, barely an inch, before he was standing straight again. It happened so quickly that most people wouldn’t have noticed. “I’m okay,” he said.
See, that was why Miles was surprised Beckett had offered to apply sunscreen to his back. Beckett didn’t like skin contact. He didn’t hug — not with Miles, not with the rest of the guys. He didn’t even hug his parents. Miles supposed he was simply raised in a non-hugging family.
When they first became friends, Miles used to sling his arm around Beckett, but he’d always grow stiff, so Miles quickly stopped that. When they studied in the library together, he always gave Beckett space, making sure they weren’t accidentally touching knees or elbows.
However, there were some exceptions to the skin contact thing. One time Miles had fallen asleep on the metro and woken up to find his head resting on Beckett’s shoulder. Honestly, he was surprised Beckett hadn’t pushed him off.
Then there was that time, less than two months ago, when the six of them had gone to a beach in Melbourne. Miles and Ryan wanted to have a competition where they’d both sit on another guy’s shoulders and try to push the other off. Ryan already had Callum to carry him. Miles begged Wesley to be his horse because Beckett and Addison were deep in conversation, and Wesley wasn’t busy doing anything except throwing seaweed at everyone like a five-year-old. Besides, Miles added, Wesley looked really strong. He could bench a lot at the gym, right? (Miles didn’t know anything about gym stuff, but Wesley did talk about weights a lot. And protein.)
At that point, Beckett turned away from Addison who was mid-sentence and sank down in front of Miles. “Get on,” he’d said.
Everyone went quiet and stared because all of them knew about Beckett’s aversion to skin contact. And there he was, telling Miles to sit on his shoulders, to have his legs dangling over Beckett’s chest.
Now, Miles asked, “Are you sure? I’ll be fast.”
Beckett looked at him with his hazel eyes. “Okay,” he said after a beat.
True to his word, Miles applied the sunscreen quickly and didn’t spend too long staring at the single freckle above Beckett’s left shoulder blade. Or the muscles that shifted ever so slightly under Beckett’s skin. Or the way his brown hair curled down the back of his neck. Miles suppressed the temptation to grab one of those curls between his thumb and forefinger and pull.
After Miles finished, they slid out of their flip-flops and raced to the ocean, sprinting over wet sand, which was cold and hard under their toes. The tide came out and washed over their ankles, leaving remnants of sea foam.
Miles gasped. Then paused. “Actually…not bad.”
“The water’s almost warm, right?” Beckett grinned.
They waded deeper into the water until it came up to their hips. Miles clutched his elbows. “Okay, now I’m kinda cold.”
“Kneel down until your shoulders are submerged. It warms you up.”
“You do it first.”
Beckett laughed and dove into the water. A moment later, he appeared again, his hair stuck to his forehead; rivulets of water ran over his collarbones and pectorals. Beckett had really nice pecs. Large and firm-looking. Muscly.
“Your turn,” he said.
Miles hesitated.
“Go on,” Beckett said and splashed him.
Miles yelped. “Hey!”
