Page 13 of Tiny Fractures

Vada and Tori retrieve a stack of towels from the house, then join the others, who are already in various stages of undress, in removing layers of clothes. In a matter of minutes, the boys are stripped down to their boxers while the girls are in bras and panties.

I laugh when Steve grabs Vada, slings her over his shoulder, and makes a beeline for the—what I imagine to be—frigid Atlantic water.

“Don’t you dare,” Tori screams in a high-pitched voice when Shane makes to follow Steve’s lead. He pulls Tori into his arms, picks her up like a newly married couple, and jogs toward the shoreline with her.

“How about you, gorge… umm, Cat?” Drew says, his speech drawn out and slurred by alcohol. “Need a lift to the water?” He wiggles his eyebrows at me while running his tongue over his bottom lip and, for a second, he reminds me of a housefly.

I shake my head at him. “I’m good. Thank you, though.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to get out of those itchy clothes?” he asks again, taking a few steps toward me. His eyes roam my body, lingering on my chest.

Drew hasn’t been shy about hitting on me from the second he saw me that first day at school. He’s asked me on dates a couple times, and I’ve always politely declined. Drew is nice enough and certainly handsome, but he’s also loud and gives off an aggressive vibe, which I know all too well. I’m really not attracted to him, physically or emotionally, and the last thing I need is someone else accusing me of leading them on.

“No, really, I’m fine right here.” I plant myself more firmly in the sand, crossing my legs in front of me.

“Can’t say I’m not disappointed,” Drew replies, continuing to eye my body from top to bottom.

“Let it go, man,” Ronan says, standing a few steps to Drew’s left, and I notice the edge to his voice as well as what I can only describe as a protective posture. His brow is serious, eyes slightly narrowed as they lock on Drew with a wordless warning.

Drew gives Ronan a derisive look before he turns and makes his way into the water.

“Sorry about him,” Ronan says to me, his voice soft. “Are you alright with me sitting down with you?” he asks, as if he can sense my apprehension, the tension rising within me at Drew’s not-so-subtle attempt to hit on me.

“Yeah, sure.” I pat the sand next to me.

Ronan sits down and I catch a hint of his scent—fresh linen, sun, salty ocean, and something else that is deep, comforting, and just him. It’s clean but masculine, and it makes my head a little woozy. I look at him without speaking and I can’t help but smile as he cocks his head slightly to the left, an eyebrow raised.

“Is something wrong?” he asks.

“No, sorry,” I laugh stupidly. “I’m just awkward, I guess.”

At that he chuckles. “You don’t strike me as awkward,” he says. “So, Cat, is that short for something?”

I can’t help but exhale deeply. This is a question I get all the time. “Nope. It’s just Cat, with a C to boot,” I explain with an exasperated eye roll.

“So, like… like the animal?” Ronan checks, and I laugh at his confused expression.

“Just like the animal,” I nod, pressing my lips together.

“Interesting.” Ronan flashes me a bright smile, causing my heart to flutter in my chest. “Do your parents love cats, then?”

“Not particularly,” I say, laughing. “My mom was really into music by Cat Stevens when she was pregnant with me, and my last name is Stevenson, so she just went balls to the wall, I guess.” I shrug, and Ronan laughs.

“Got it. Well, it suits you.”

I feel my cheeks warm. “Ronan is an interesting name, too,” I note, desperately attempting to get control over my face. “I’ve never heard it before.”

“It’s Irish. It means ‘little seal,’” Ronan laughs.

“Really?”

“Really, really.” He nods, then pauses, cocking his head to the side. “Do cats and seals get along?”

“I have no idea,” I say with a laugh. “I’m not sure that’s ever been tested before, considering they probably live in different climates.”

“You’re probably right,” he chuckles.

I have to admit I enjoy the sound of his laugh.

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