Chapter 16
INSIDE DISTANCE (LEO)
The July sun hits hard on Fire Island.
Liz is on her stomach beside me, headphones in, one knee bent, toes digging into the sand. Her hair is twisted up, a few pieces loose at her neck. The light deepens the gold in her skin.
Her thigh shifts, just enough for the tattoo to show. Wings inked near the curve of muscle, half-hidden by sand. Up close, it isn’t feathers. It’s motion—lines made for acceleration. Speed and survival.
I stare at it for a second, then force myself to look away.
She looks relaxed, like last night left no mark.
As if she didn’t drift into me in her sleep—leg thrown over my calf, hand on my stomach, taking space she’d never allow herself awake.
Barely breathing, I let the warmth of her settle.
One strand of hair fell across her cheek, and I moved it with the lightest touch, then went still, waiting for her to wake.
For a few brutal hours, she fit against me like she belonged there.
When the first thin light came through the curtains, her eyes snapped open, found my arm, her hand, our legs tangled. She was gone before she was fully awake, sheet pulling after her. “Sorry,” she whispered, rebuilding the distance.
I stayed exactly where she left me, hands fisted, because if I touched her then, she’d have felt it as pressure.
As a cage.
So I didn’t.
I roll onto my stomach now, careful not to brush against her. The restraint is a choice.
It’s also torture.
Late-afternoon heat presses down. The sun slants, turning the water into hammered glass. Around us, the crew is scattered, but I’m only aware of her.
Liz’s shoulder shifts. She can feel me there. She doesn’t look up.
Good. If she does, I’ll do something stupid.
A shadow falls across my towel. A bottle of sunscreen thumps down near my hip.
I crack one eye open.
“Thought you might need it,” Eden says, standing over me in a white tank and shorts, sun-kissed and smug.
“I’m fine.”
Jessica lifts her head from her book. “You have a sponsor shoot next week.”
Finn makes a sound that could be a laugh. “Listen to the grown-ups, blondie.”
“Copy,” I say, flat.
Liz pauses whatever she’s listening to. One earbud slips out. Then she lifts her head. Sunglasses still on. Nothing in her face gives her away as she reaches over and picks up the bottle off my towel.
Everything in me tightens into one hard line.
She sits up, knees tucked under her and tips a small amount into her palm. Rubs her hands together slowly, like she needs a moment.
“Okay?” Her voice is low. Rougher than it should be.
I turn my face toward the sand before I can do something about the way she asked.
She takes control. I let her.
The first touch lands between my shoulder blades. She moves from one side to the other, smoothing over muscle.
Behind me, her breathing shifts, giving her away. Her hands glide down my spine, steady and thorough, too slow for practicality. She moves lower, covering the small of my back, her thumbs pressing in and sharpening my vision.
I don’t let myself move.
Her palms return to my shoulders, finishing along my neck. Her fingers brush the base of my hairline.
They don’t pass right over.
The beach keeps moving around us—waves folding in, Finn laughing at something Dmitri mutters, Eden’s voice drifting from the umbrella—but everything in me narrows down to that single point where her fingertips hold.
Then she leans closer, her breath skimming my skin.
“You’re beautiful, Leo,” she says, low, meant only for me.
It hits me straight through the ribs.
I don’t answer.
I don’t take what isn’t offered.
But my body doesn’t know the difference between a compliment and a claim.
My fingers knot in the towel, wanting her so badly it hurts.
I almost turn toward her. One move, and I could roll over, catch her wrist, pull her into my lap.
Make her say it again.
I stop myself.
Winning isn’t the hard part. Choice is.
The small ones. The ones that cost.
She hasn’t moved her hands.
Her fingers are still at the base of my hairline—not pressing now, just resting. Like she said the thing and then forgot to take her hands back.
The beach keeps going around us. Waves. Finn’s voice. The smell of sunscreen and salt and her.
I stay facedown and breathe.
Her thumb moves again. One small sweep across the back of my neck, slow enough to be deliberate, light enough to deny.
My whole spine registers it.
I don’t turn. I tighten my hand in the towel until the fabric creases and hold absolutely still, because if I move a single inch toward her right now, she’ll feel what that cost me and we’ll be somewhere neither of us has agreed to go.
Her hand lifts away.
The absence of it is worse than the touch was.
“Fuck.”
The word gets out before I can rein myself in. I force my face toward the sand and order myself to stand down.
Dmitri’s voice cuts in from the chair, dry and unhurried. “Hey, Liz. This is a family beach.”
Finn makes a choking sound into his elbow. Nate mutters something that sounds a lot like. “Jesus.”
“All done,” Liz says evenly.
She sets the bottle down by my elbow and reaches for her earbud again, smooth as if nothing happened.
I push up onto my forearms before she can retreat. Sand sticks to my skin.
Everything in me is still burning.
“Liz.”
She pauses. Doesn’t look at me. Doesn’t pull away either, just stays perfectly still, as if eye contact would make it real.
That alone almost breaks my teeth.
My voice comes out low. “You can’t say that to me and then walk away.”
Her breath catches. I hear it.
“Watch me,” she says defiantly.
She stands, shakes sand from her hands, and walks toward the water without looking back.