Page 2 of Inseverable (Carolina Beach)

“Because I knew you’d stop to answer the phone, even though the rest of us have been waiting on you.”

I pretend to scowl, but don’t quite manage. Me and scowling don’t go hand and hand. Life’s too short to wrap your mind around everything that’s wrong with it. So I grin, because that’s something I can do and do well.

“You think you’re so smart. Don’t you?” I ask, placing the phone back on the charger.

“You forgot good-looking,” he says. “But I’ll let it slide on account of I’m modest, too.”

I laugh, but don’t argue—at least about the good-looking part. We’ve only been back at Kiawah for a week, but already Hale’s wavy blond hair has bleached significantly and his skin tone deepened to a light bronze. His steps are slow and purposeful as he crosses the small space separating us and stops in front of me.

“Let’s go, Trin,” he says, hauling me along. “You’ve done enough for the day.”

I readjust my bag over my shoulder, and follow him out of the office, the usual bounce to my walk kicking in despite my heavy bag.

“Here. I’ll take that,” Hale offers, reaching for my bag.

I step just out of reach, knowing he has his own stuff to carry. “I’ve got it, big guy,” I tell him.

“You sure?” he slams the door behind us. I stare out to the beach where a young couple is chasing after their little toddler as Hale fumbles with the lock.

“I’m sure,” I reply, my attention staying on the young family. “Hey, Hale, you know how I always mind my own business.”

“Nope,” he says, leading me forward.

“Well, this time I can’t,” I continue, ignoring his comment. “For your own good, I have to tell you that this maybe your last chance to do something about Becca. The summer hasn’t quite started, but it won’t be long before it’s gone.”

“Yeah. I know,” he mumbles.

“And?” I ask, turning back to him.

He tugs on my long ponytail. Unlike Becca, my best friend in the world, I’m neither tall, blonde nor leggy. My hair is as black as midnight in winter, and I’m just barely five feet three. And where her eyes are light and striking mine are a dull brown. But I do have something my bae doesn’t have. Freckles. Y’all feel free to envy me at any time.

“Well?” I press. “You going to do something about that girl or aren’t you?”

He shoves his key into the pocket of his long red lifeguard shorts and glides the sunglasses perched on top of his head back onto his face. “I guess we’ll just have to wait and see,” he tells me.

His smirk widens into that grin of his—the one capable of sizzling panties like coals over a fire. I shake my head. “Boy, between that smile of yours and that face it’s a wonder Becca’s not running to you rather than away.”

He flings his arm around my shoulders as our feet dig through the sand. “Now, sugar, I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” he says, keeping his grin in a way that tells me he’s lying.

“Come on. You can have anyone you want. And if it’s Becca, you need to act fast before those girls slapping each other just to lie their beach blankets near your post lead you astray and down a long dark path of sin, sex, and STDs.”

“Is that so?” he asks.

“I’m just watching out for you,” I say, stepping with him onto the gray weathered steps leading to the lot. “It’s the kind of friend I am. You know, the kind who likes to pretend you’re still a virgin and not the manwhore you’ve become.”

He laughs hard enough to shake us both as we reach the edge of the pier. Ahead of us in the sandy lot, Sean, Mason, and Becca look up from where they’ve been waiting for us.

Mason’s dark skin glistens with sweat, likely from having dragged all the heavy equipment we weren’t using back into the shed. But he’s got the muscle and the stocky build for it. Poor Sean has the endurance to swim a few miles and back, but his long-limbed body is better suited for reaching things the rest of us can’t, and his personality is best for those who don’t mind the occasional dip in the gutter and can appreciate his not-always brilliant remarks.

But of course it’s Becca Hale hones in on.

I can’t blame him. Becca is leaning against the Jeep, poised like Miss America and as alluring as Miss Universe.

“What the fuck’s taking y’all so long?” she yells.

But that mouth of hers makes her all Becca, so does that smile that pulls Hale closer.

“You know how she gets,” Hale hollers, hooking his thumb my way. “Had to get the floors waxed, the office dusted, and mend that sea gull’s broken wing before setting it free.”

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