“We aren’t in the library anymore,” he said.
She fought back a smile as she looked up at him. “You’re right,” she said. “We aren’t.”
He put his hand on the curve of her waist and moved his thumb slowly up and down.
“Do you know what that means?” he asked her.
“What does it mean?”
He propped his other hand against the wall, trapping her there with him. But there was nowhere she’d rather be.
“That I can do this.” And then he bent down and kissed her. It was long, and slow, and gentle, but full of heat. He kept himself at a distance, and when she reached for him, tried to pull him closer to her, he stayed right where he was. She could feel him smile against her lips, but he just kept kissing her slowly, until she felt like she might go wild. After a long time, he pulled away and looked at her, that smile still on his face.
“Meet you by the pool?” he asked.
She breathed in hard. “The pool.” Why did he…Oh right, that was their plan for the afternoon. “Yes. Meet you there in a few minutes. I’ll just go change.”
She ran up the stairs to her room, still dazed after that kiss. He’d known it, too, the jerk. She smiled as she walked into her room.
She reached for a sundress to change into and then remembered something. In a fit of optimism, or courage, after Marta had said she could stay longer, she’d ordered a bikini online. She’d tried it on when it arrived on Friday; it was blue-and-white striped, and she thought she looked cute in it. But did she feel comfortable enough in it—and comfortable enough with Beau—to wear it today? He usually dated models and actresses, after all. No, maybe she shouldn’t wear it.
And then she heard Priya’s voice in her ear.
“WEAR THE BIKINI!!!”
Izzy laughed out loud. “Fine, Priya, you win. I’ll do it.”
She felt like she had to obey invisible Priya, since she hadn’t told her about yesterday with Beau. She wanted to—she’d almost texted her last night, after she got back up to her room. But everything with Beau felt so good right now, so perfect, almost magic. It felt like telling someone, anyone, about it might break the spell.
Beau wasn’t there when she got out to the pool. The rose garden was just beyond the pool, and the roses were starting to bloom—she could smell them all the way over here. She set up one of the pool chairs so it reclined at just the right angle and leaned back. A few minutes later, he came outside, a bag in one hand and two towels draped over his shoulder.
“I thought we might get peckish out here,” he said. “So I brought a few snacks.”
He pulled out a bowl, which he set on the table next to Izzy. Then he took out a bag of chips, which he poured into the bowl. And then he took out a jar of salsa, which he poured into another bowl.
“You know,” Izzy said. “One of the things I’ve always liked about you is your commitment to snacks.”
He grinned at her as he took bottles of Topo Chico out of the bag. “Can you believe I was just thinking the same thing about you?”
He draped one towel over the back of her chair and another over the back of the chair next to hers. “I’m going to swim a few laps before I snack. Be right back.”
Izzy watched him walk to the pool and get in. And then she just stared, as his arms cut through the water, as those muscles in his back flexed. This time, she didn’t have to pretend to look away.
She looked down at her dress. She was nervous, so nervous, about wearing the bikini. But she knew, somewhere in New York City, Priya was shouting at her to take the dress off without even knowing why. So she pulled it over her head and sat there, on the lounge chair, in the bikini.
She looked down at her e-reader and tried and failed to concentrate on this manuscript. Eventually, Beau pulled himself out of the water and turned toward her. And then he stopped, slowly walked over to her.
He stood above her and blocked out the sun as his hair dripped onto her legs. She looked up at him.
“You said that you didn’t have a swimming suit here,” he said, an accusatory tone in his voice. “Isn’t that why we had to get you one for surfing?”
“I didn’t,” she said. “Then.”
His eyes raked over her body. God, did that look on his face make her feel good.
“Well.” He sat down across from her, still staring at her. “Wherever you got that from, God bless them, that’s all I have to say.”
She laughed, half in joy, half in sheer relief. “Oh, do you like it?” she asked.
“Do I like it? I have a feeling that you know exactly how much I like it,” he said.
Her smile got wider. “You’re welcome to tell me, though.”
He stood up again, and then joined her on her lounge chair. “Oh, I’ll do better than that,” he said.
She got very little reading done by the pool that day.
When they got into the car after dinner, Izzy looked over at Beau. “So that was weird, right?”
Beau sighed. “I forgot. You’ve never seen that before, have you?” He started the car. “We haven’t really gone anywhere together where anyone has paid attention to me. No one at the beach cares who I am, if they even know. All surfers care about is how good the surf is that day, that’s why I like them. But that waiter definitely knew.”
She looked at him sideways. “He seemed kind of…scared of you? Am I making that up?”
Beau shook his head. “No.” He stared out at the street as he started the car. Izzy thought he would be angry at how hostile their waiter had been toward him, but the look on his face was more resigned than anything else. “I got a reputation when I was younger, and it never really went away. After that bar fight, and that car accident, and everything. No one will ever believe this—especially after what I did to my mom at the funeral—and I’m not trying to pretend I’m perfect, but a lot of that reputation was undeserved. The bar fight was just me defending my friend Madison. Some guy grabbed her ass, so I punched him. It probably wasn’t the most appropriate way to handle it, but people always did that to her, and I knew how sick of it she was. And then the car accident, I was driving another friend home—he was very high and grabbed the steering wheel because he thought it was funny.” He turned and looked at her. “I was totally sober that night.”
She put her hand on his arm. “I believe you.”
He smiled at her. “Thanks. So anyway, it became a whole thing. How I was the angry, bad one, of our whole group, you know.” He looked over at her when he stopped at a light. “I was also the Black one.”
She nodded. “Yeah.” She raised her eyebrows at him. “Are you writing about all this?”
He sighed dramatically. “She has a one-track mind over here, doesn’t she?” He grinned at her. “I’m going to write about it. It’s on my list. I just haven’t gotten there yet. I’ve been going a little out of order. Someone once told me I could do that.”
She elbowed him, and he cackled.
She turned to him as they drove home. “Have you talked to any of your friends? Since you’ve been here?”
He shook his head. “They texted me for a while, checked in on me. Well, my good friends did. But I ignored them. And now it feels too late.”
She put her hand on his. “If they’re good friends, it’s not too late.”
He swallowed. “Yeah. I guess.”
She wouldn’t push it.
When they got in the house, Beau stopped her by the door again and bent down to kiss her. She still couldn’t believe this was happening. This whole weekend had felt almost magical.
“You know,” she said, “starting tomorrow, we’re going to have to stop kissing in the hallway like this. Michaela will be around. We don’t want to make her uncomfortable.”
He pushed her hair back from her face and leaned forward to kiss her again. “Mmm, good point,” he said. “I guess that means we have to take advantage of this while we can.”
Finally, a while later, she pulled away.
“I have to get up early tomorrow, so…”
Beau slowly let go of her. “See you tomorrow, Izzy.”
She smiled at him before she turned to go upstairs. “See you tomorrow, Beau.”
As she walked to the kitchen in the morning to get coffee, she heard his laugh from down the hall.
“What’s gotten you in such a cheerful mood this morning?” Michaela asked him, right as Izzy walked into the kitchen.