9
Lia
The daylight is warm and the breeze is cool as Sophie and I head down to the water, grains of sun-warmed sand sliding beneath our feet. It’s not the most aesthetically pleasing beach, but it’s also not crowded, which is more important for my purposes.
“Can you just get a bunch from this angle, so I’m at the edge of the water and then you can see the ocean and the sand?”
“You got it,” Sophie says, taking the phone from me.
She’s well-trained by now, if not naturally skilled. Her angles are just right, crouching low, zoom at 0.5, exposure balanced. I hit a few different poses—standing, kneeling, sitting, lounging at the edge of the water—before I tell her it’s enough and review the shots.
The bikini looks amazing. I didn’t make this one, it’s from one of my sponsors, but I will be posting enthusiastically about it from here on out because holy shit.
Tiny but flattering, and really stays in place where you put it.
My hair isn’t quite right in these pictures though—more ringlets than beach waves.
I’ll shake it out a bit and try again later.
“These are great, Soph. Thank you. Do you wanna get in the water?”
“I guess…” Despite being from Minnesota originally, Sophie’s very sensitive to cold. “Let’s just go slow, okay?”
“Okay, and can you get a few shots of me walking into the water from the back, too?”
“Sure thing.”
The water is absolutely fucking freezing as I wade in, but for the sake of the pictures I can’t tense up.
I push the sting of the cold into my subconscious and focus on my choreography, arms gently out, hair swaying in motion.
The reality of the environment is much less romantic than I’m trying to make it seem—a seagull screeches overhead, young children flail in the surf—but it’s about the fantasy.
I stop waist-deep and rotate towards Sophie. In an attempt to look candid and editorial, I don’t look directly at her. Instead, I’m gazing up the beach, towards the place we camped out.
My gaze finds Owen’s.
We’re fifty feet away, but even at this distance there’s a sternness in his posture. I can imagine him replaying our interaction this morning, as furious as he is turned on. And he doesn’t even look away when I catch him staring, the absolutely shameless flirt.
I give him a middle finger before saying to Sophie, “Okay, that’s probably good. Thanks.”
It takes several minutes to beckon her to my depth of the water, the little wimp, and when she finally gets here I decide to distract her from the cold with a topic she’ll love.
“Okay, tell me the three things you’re most excited about for your honeymoon.”
“Oh my God,” she says, all smiles and hand gestures, “I have so many things I want to do.”
They’re leaving for Hawai’i a few days after the wedding and staying for like two weeks.
I tried to sell them on Paris as a destination so I could live vicariously through them.
I mean come on, the city of love for your honeymoon?
What could be better? And the fashion… But Andy wanted to sit on a beach and read, and Sophie wanted to go somewhere with interesting ecosystems like a fucking nerd, so Hawai’i was a better choice.
“We’re staying in a little bed and breakfast in the rainforest, and the reviews were kind of mixed because it said the owner just leaves the windows and doors open so sometimes birds and lizards and stuff get in the house, but to me that’s a definite plus.
And it was way cheaper than other options.
One review did mention palmetto bugs, but honestly even that could be pretty cool to see in person. ”
“That’s horrifying,” I laugh. “I’m so happy for you.”
“And we’re definitely gonna go snorkeling. I’ve been reading up on the coastal ecosystem a bit and I’m really hoping we see at least one type of sea turtle, if not more. The green ones are supposed to be the most common, but I would absolutely die if we saw a hawksbill.”
“Are you reserving a tour guide ahead of time?” I ask.
“Nah, I’m pretty sure we can just figure it out once we’re there.”
I shake my head. “You’re an insane woman. But okay, you’ve got the B&B and the snorkeling, what’s number three?”
Sophie’s eyes flicker towards the shore, then back to me, shifting her body closer. “Can I tell you a secret?”
I shift close enough for us to whisper, even though the boys are nowhere near earshot. “Obviously. Please do.”
“I bought… things.”
“Things?”
“You know…” She widens her eyes emphatically. “Things.”
“Sex toys?”
“Shh!” She shoves her hand over my mouth but I yank it down immediately.
“Sophie, you filthy whore! Tell me everything. What did you get?”
“Okay, I didn’t get that much, and you’ll probably think it’s all really basic anyway. But honestly I felt proud of myself for just going to the store and browsing, and the salesperson was really nice and helped me pick out something they thought were good to get started wi—”
“Stop apologizing for it and just tell me.”
She takes a long, anchoring breath. “Okay, I got…” Then her hands slap over her face, hiding herself from me. “Oh my God, I can’t look at you while I say this. I got lingerie and…” She peeks out from between her fingers. “...a vibrator.”
“What kind of vibrator?”
“What do you mean, what kind of vibrator?”
“I mean what I said—what kind of vibrator is it? Shape, size, function?”
“It’s like… a normal one?”
“Sophie.” I take hold of her upper arms, squaring off so she’ll feel the full weight of my disbelief. “Are you telling me this is your first vibrator?”
“Umm… yes?”
“Oh my God!” I release her, hands striking the water with a splash that echoes my shock. “You mean to tell me that for your first twenty-eight years on this Earth, you never once used a vibrator? Straight people are so fucked up.”
“Do you think Andy will think it’s weird? I don’t want him to feel like he’s not enough by himself.”
“Do you want me to go talk to him right now?” I don’t wait for her response before I’m spinning around and paddling towards shore. “If he doesn’t understand that toys are teammates and not competition, I swear—”
“No!” Sophie grabs my wrist and spins me back towards her. “Please, Lia. It’s fine. I just… you don’t think he’ll be weirded out?”
“If he’s weirded out, you should immediately divorce him. Surprising him with a sex toy is objectively hot.”
She exhales. “Okay. Thanks. I’ve been so stressed ever since I bought it.”
“You got lingerie too? Tell me everything.”
“Okay, well…” She shifts our positions, ensuring her back is still facing the boys on shore. “I got one in black because I feel like that’s classic, and one in white for a bridal vibe.”
“Hot.”
“The white one is just a pretty basic lace bra and panties set, but it has this sheer covery thingy…”
She’s gesturing in a loose shape over her body as I say, “Negligee.”
“Yes.” She points at me in confirmation. “Thank you. But the black one is kind of intense. It does this criss-cross thing where it starts up here and wraps back and forth, you know what I mean?” Her fingers draw a path over her chest, wrapping around her waist, then criss-crossing over her hips.
“You trying to seduce me with that move, Soph? Damn.”
“Stopppp,” she laughs, splashing me away.
I should be clear about something: Sophie is beautiful. Soft curves and silky straight brown hair and big hazel eyes that pour out emotion at the slightest provocation. She’s got that cute-hot thing going for her, borderline sexy-baby territory.
But am I attracted to her? Wholeheartedly and ardently no.
Just like Andy. Obviously I can tell he’s an attractive guy, if you’re into the whole brooding nerd thing.
He’s got dark wavy hair, a prominent nose, a sharp jawline…
it works. But the idea of ever touching him in an even slightly sexual way makes me want to crawl out of my skin and burrow into hell.
I honestly don’t understand how Sophie and Andy found themselves in this situation. Hooking up with a friend would feel like hooking up with my brother: revolting on a cellular level. Someone is either my friend, or they’re a romantic prospect. Never both.
Of course, they can also be neither. Case-in-point: Owen Walsh.
I glance over to the shore again, where Owen, Nolan, and Andy are now standing and pulling off their shirts.
I guess they’re finally ready to join us.
Unsurprisingly, my brother is the first to sprint down the sand like a child at summer camp.
He doesn’t stop when he hits the water, pushing forward until I realize he’s barreling straight for me.
“No, stop! I don’t want my hair—”
But it’s too late. He’s tackling me backwards into the water as I attempt to punch him in the fucking face. When I break the surface, angry as a wet cat, I shove him sideways.
“Fuck off, Nolan! I wanted to take more pictures with dry hair.”
“Shoulda thought of that before you looked so pushable,” he says, shaking out his wet hair like a dog. “Woo boy, it’s cold in here!”
Andy and Owen reach us then, a loose circle forming among our group of five. In a row like this, I’m struck by how different our bodies are. Andy and I are lean, long lines, Sophie all soft circles, Nolan never beating the gym bro allegations, and Owen who’s… well…
If I didn’t know him as a person, he’d be exactly my type. At least for guys. Big but not huge. Strong but soft. Interesting to look at and interesting to draw, with his tattoos and beard and scorchingly bright blue eyes.
I look away before anyone can notice and misinterpret my expression. Again, it’s not that I’m interested in him, he’s just visually interesting.
But now I’m overcompensating, looking anywhere else. Across the sparkling amber sand, the creamy greens and blues of the water, and even…
A woman walks past my line of sight in a yellow bathing suit that defies the laws of physics. Now she’s my type: tall, curly hair, confident, and yeah, her toned body definitely doesn’t hurt. Maybe I should go over. You know, just to say hi, put the old gaydar within range for a signal.