Chapter 19
THEO
By the time I shower and throw on my swim trunks, Becca has lost her coverup and is lying out on a deck chair, face tilted toward the sun. Her hair is piled on top of her head, her eyes covered with sunglasses, and it’s hard for me to tear my eyes away.
Mostly because she’s beautiful.
But also because she’s here. Right there.
To see her like this, to know I can go out there and sit down beside her, fills me with a heady sort of awareness. I want to soak her in, enjoy every second of her being here. But I also don’t want to screw anything up. Say too much. Be too much. Overwhelm her with just how much I’m feeling.
I step back from the kitchen door, where I’ve basically been staring, and grab a couple of water bottles from the fridge. Determined to play it cool, I toss my towel over my shoulder, slip my sunglasses on, then make my way out to the deck chair beside her.
Wordlessly, I hand her a water bottle, and she takes it, halfway sitting up on her elbows. She opens it and takes a long drink.
In the near sweltering heat, condensation has already formed on the outside of the fridge-chilled water, and I watch as it drips off the bottle and lands on her stomach. The drops slide down toward her belly button, and I force my eyes back to her face.
“Thanks,” she says, spinning the cap back on. “This heat is brutal.”
“Reminds me of Texas. Want to swim?” I ask. “Cool off a little?”
“Definitely. But I was also thinking about going down to the beach to snorkel.”
“The pool is probably cooler than the ocean.”
“Yes, but there aren’t fish in the pool,” she says, and I grin.
“Fair enough. Do we have gear for snorkeling?”
She nods. “My mom said we did. Something about a shelf in the garage, but I haven’t gone looking for it yet.”
“I’ll see what I can find,” I say as I stand. “Unless you’d rather not have the company.”
She lifts her sunglasses. “Did you just invite yourself on my snorkeling adventure?”
“I mean, for safety reasons, I think it’s better if we’re together.”
She looks out toward the gently lapping water of the gulf. It looks clear and gentle and easy to swim in. She’d be perfectly fine on her own, and the look on her face tells me she knows it.
“Well, I definitely don’t want to jeopardize my safety,” she says with a flirty smile. “So I guess you’ll have to come with me.”
Ten minutes later, I’m back by the pool with an assortment of masks, fins, and snorkels I found in the garage. “I have no idea how well any of this is going to work,” I say. “Some of it looks a little worn, but we can definitely try it out.”
“I’m sure it’ll work,” Becca says as she stands up. “I don’t need fancy.” She grabs her bag from the patio table next to the house and rummages through it, finding a tube of sunscreen.
“Can you get my back for me?” she casually asks, holding up the tube like this is the kind of thing we do for each other all the time.
She lowers herself onto the lounger, making room for me to sit down behind her.
I squeeze a little of the sunscreen onto my palm, then rub my hands together, heating it before spreading it across Becca’s back. Her skin is warm and soft, and she seems to melt a little as I work, her shoulders relaxing as she leans back.
Without really thinking about it, I tug her straps down her arms so I can get the skin underneath, but then her breath hitches, and I pause.
I did this for her a thousand times when we were together.
My family had a pool in our backyard, and Becca and I were in it all summer long.
She always made me get under her straps just to make sure.
But that was then, and this is now, and that gesture might have felt way too familiar.
“Sorry,” I say as I slide her straps back into place. “Muscle memory kicked in.”
“No, it’s fine,” she says. “Thanks for being thorough.”
“You made me do this so many times back then,” I say as I slide my palms over the tops of her shoulders.
“Because I’m smart and I didn’t want to burn.” She turns and looks at me over her shoulder. “Unlike someone I know.”
“I never burned that bad.”
“Because I forced you to wear sunscreen. You’ll thank me when you’re fifty.” She sits up a little taller so I can get the small of her back, careful not to get too close to her sides where I know she’s ticklish. “Am I good?” she asks.
“You’re good.”
She spins around. “Okay. Your turn.”
I fight to keep my breathing normal when her hands land on my shoulders, but I can’t stop the rash of goosebumps that break out across my skin.
I’m still wondering if Becca has clocked my reaction to her touch when she says, “There are a lot more muscles back here than there used to be.”
I chuckle. “Can I get you to say that to my brother next time you see him?”
“Absolutely not,” she says. “I don’t think your ego needs the boost.” Her hand lingers at the top of my waistband, just above my left hip, then she moves back up, her hands going over my shoulders to the top of my pectoral muscles.
“I have too much,” she says, so I turn to face her, letting her cover my chest and abdomen.
I grit my teeth, willing my brain to stay focused on anything but how good it feels to have her hands on my skin.
“More muscles here too,” she says, her voice soft, hands lingering on my abs.
“Okay, all done,” I say, grabbing her wrists and tugging them away from my body. “Time to get in the water.”
Becca smirks, but she doesn’t argue. She just pulls on her sunglasses and follows me out to the beach.
There’s a public access point a few hundred yards to our right, and the sand is pretty crowded, but the area immediately around us is mostly quiet.
It’s just us and the seagulls and an old guy with a metal detector who lifts a hand and waves as he passes by.
I take a few minutes to set up the giant umbrella I’m sure we’ll want when we get out of the water, then we do our best to sort out our gear, trying on masks to find what fits best. It takes a few minutes, but eventually, we’re out in the water, watching a tiny school of fish swimming around a bed of sea grass.
It’s cool, but if we go a little farther out, I know from experience we might find some dolphins, or at least a stingray or two.
Without lifting my face out of the water, I wave to get Becca’s attention, then motion for her to come with me.
She swims closer and slips her hand into mine, then we turn and head into deeper waters. After a few moments of steady swimming, Becca tugs on my hand and points toward a stingray slowly swimming across the sandy sea floor.
Her face is distorted by her mask, but I can still tell she’s smiling, and her eyes are bright and happy.
We swim around for a few more minutes and spot a variety of fish and a Florida spider crab as big as a dinner plate.
When she pops through the surface of the water and removes her mask, I follow her up and do the same.
“Did you see the ray with all the spots?” she asks. “It was beautiful!” We’re in water just shallow enough that my feet can touch, but Becca is treading water.
“The spotted eagle ray,” I say. “Cool, right?”
“Okay, Mr. Biology,” she says.
“I only know what lives around here. Carter and I used to snorkel all afternoon, then run back to the house and google everything we saw. I remember a lot, but if we were in any other part of the ocean, I’d be useless.
” Over her shoulder, I spot the notable fin of a dolphin maybe a dozen yards out.
“Hey, come here,” I say as I reach for her.
She takes my hand, and I tug her close, turning her so her back is pressed against my front. I wrap a loose arm around her waist. “I’m standing, so let me keep you afloat,” I say, then I point with my free hand. “Look. Right over there.”
As soon as she spots it, she sucks in a gasp. “A dolphin?”
“Yep. If we’re really still, it might swim closer.”
She shifts her hands to my forearm, holding on as she relaxes against me.
Together, we wait and watch as one dolphin turns into three.
Eventually, they swim a little closer, within twenty feet or so, though they never really approach.
Even that feels amazing—and I’m suddenly intensely happy we’re experiencing this together.
“I can’t believe it,” Becca says. “They’re right there.”
I’m still caught up in the fact that she’s right here, but yeah. The dolphins are cool too.
Once they swim away, we slowly make our way back to shore. Becca drops onto the sand under our umbrella. She tugs her hair out of the hair tie that’s been holding it on top of her head and shakes it out, sending water droplets flying.
“That was amazing,” she says, leaning back onto her hands.
I drop onto the sand beside her, happy to enjoy a little shade. “Yeah?”
“Ten out of ten,” she says. “Thanks for coming with me. I don’t think I would have gone out so far without you.”
“Some of the best snorkeling I’ve ever done is at a barrier reef off the coast of Belize,” I say. “My friend, Astrid, had a former roommate who lived there for a while. We saw nurse sharks and rays and enormous sea turtles. It was amazing.”
Becca shifts, brushing the sand off her hands before she asks, “Astrid. Was she a girlfriend?”
My eyebrows lift. “Oh … uh, no. Just a friend.”
She bites her lip. “So, is it true what they say? The charming Theo Williamson will never settle down?”
My jaw clenches as I consider how to respond. I’m not unaware of the reputation the internet has bestowed upon me, no matter how unearned it may be. And I have been photographed with a number of beautiful women.
But they’re only photos. Not at all a reflection of what’s actually going on in my personal life. In the past, I haven’t minded letting people form their own opinions. It’s kept me from having to explain the truth—something I’ve kept from everyone, even my brother.
If no one expects me to ever be serious about someone, then I never have to explain why I’m not serious about anyone. And I can’t explain, not without bringing up Becca, and she’s been a subject I’ve been happy to avoid for years.