Page 4 of Until We Fall

“Yep.” I grin. I’m themaestroof sandcastles.

I really am. I’m good with my hands. I grew up working at my family’s flower shop, and working as a florist is a skill that translates into a hell of a lot of other things. Like kick-ass sandcastles.

I fucking love sandcastles. I follow sandcastle builders on IG. There are whole competitions too. I’m not good enough for that, but I love seeing the builds. I talk to Rory about it all the time.

Some people would probably snicker at my interest, but Rory always dives right in with me, evaluating the structure and design, calculating the density of sand depending on its wetness. I love how he always notices different things than me.

“I can’t wait to see what you build,” he says.

“Maybe we can do it together?” Shit, I’dreallylike that. Rory and I have never been to the beach together. Back home for me is San Diego, but he’s never gone with me even though I’ve asked him like fifty times.

His eyes flick around my face. His lips part, then close, then part again. And I’m just sitting there, waiting for what he’s gonna say, watching the expressions move across his face. Kind of mesmerized by them, actually.

A tickle fills my stomach.

I rub at the side of my neck, uncomfortable in the narrow seat.

I don’t want to think about that tickle too much. Because if I do… Well, I just don’t want to think about it.

That tickle leads nowhere I should follow.

I shift in my seat, trying not to let my brain go off in all the directions it usually does.

“I’ll definitely build with you, D.” Rory’s elbow brushes mine. There’s a twin pair of freckles on the knobby rise of his wrist. I like looking at those, too. The way they?—

Shit.Stop.

I clear my throat. “Okay. You and me. It’s a date.”

“Uh…” The tip of his tongue slips along his upper lip—such a small lick that I wouldn’t have noticed if I weren’t staring straight at him. Fuck, I’m staring.Fucking stop.

“I didn’t mean…” I shake my head. “Yeah, just… I wonder if we’re gonna get any turbulence?”

Smooth, D.

“Maybe?” He clicks off his seatbelt. “Uh, I need to take a piss.”

Before I can respond, he drops his reader in his seat and darts toward the lavatory at the rear of the plane, slipping easily down the aisle between the seats.

And I watch.

Ikeepwatching as he stops to wait in a line that spills into the aisle.

I sigh, tearing my eyes off him. It’s still a million fucking degrees in here. The air blower istiny. And not doing anything.I grab the safety card out of the pocket in front of me and fan myself with it, spreading my legs into Rory’s area and groaning at the stretch.

A half minute goes by.

I fan myself.

Another minute passes.

Quiet conversations murmur around me. Rory’s still in line, not moving quickly. His reader sits there, on his seat.

Electromagnetic radiation. That’s what he said.

I have no reason not to believe him.

Another forty-five seconds pass.

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