Page 69 of Lucky Strike

Bria meets me by the outdoor shower at the bottom of the stairs, wearing an oversize hoodie that comes midway down her thighs.

I nod at the hoodie. “Good call.”

“It’s kinda chilly out,” she says, tugging at the hem.

“Good thing I didn’t suggest a night swim, then.”

She gives me a small smile and tucks her hands into her hoodie as we start down the beach, our feet sinking into the cool sand. Last night’s kisses are running in an endless loop through my brain, but I leave some space between us. I don't want to make assumptions. Bria’s cautious these days, and I can’t blame her. We’re still getting used to each other, even though the last couple of days have proven there’s still a connection neither time nor distance has completely erased.

“Are you dating anybody?” she asks after a few minutes.

“Define dating.” It’s probably not the answer she wants, but if Bria’s going to be in my life like this, she needs to know who I really am.

“You know what I mean.”

“I don’t have time for serious relationships. Theycomplicatethings,” I say, stressing this because of what she said last night about sex. “And my life is complicated enough.”

She breaks away, walking down to the water’s edge, and I follow.

The water washes over our toes, not as cold as I’d have thought. I look at her profile in the dim, bluish light. “I can’t have just anyone around Liam.”

She nods. “I know.”

I reach for her hand without thinking and she lets me take it, her fingers curling around mine. So much for keeping my distance. We stand in silence for a while, listening to the crush of the waves.

“What about that girl at the bar the other night?” she asks, still gazing out at the water.

I think back to the night we saw each other at Salty’s. She’s probably talking about Emmeline. “I didn’t hook up with her.”Though I can’t say the same for Finn.

“But you would … I mean, you do stuff like that.”

“Occasionally. Nothing meaningful.”

At this she turns, meeting my eyes, the moonlight catching hints of gold in her irises.

“Sometimes I get tired of being alone, even though that’s the choice I’ve made,” I admit.

“And it’s easier when sex is transactional.”

She’s right, but I hate hearing it from her. “Where’s all of this coming from?”

“You would’ve gone to bed with me last night,” she says, stepping away from the water. “I’m trying to figure out if you wantmeor just need to scratch an itch.”

I yank her to a stop, and she looks back in surprise. “There are plenty of women in Boston, Bria. I wouldn’t have driven all the way out here just to scratch an itch.”

Her eyes soften, and her face sort of crumples like she might cry. I try to pull her closer but she shakes me off. “You need to understand … I never thought we’d be like this again.”

“Neither did I.”

After a minute she starts back toward the house, and again I follow. I’m always following her these days. “Remember when you told me you were going to college in Belfast?”

“Like it was yesterday.” I’ve thought about it so many times, for a couple of reasons.

“I couldn’t believe it at first. I never thought you’d leave Boston,” she says. “But you seemed so excited, especially when you graduated. How could I not be happy for you?”

Regret ripples through me. I must’ve been pretty convincing back then, because while I was excited, I’d had mixed feelings about leaving herandBoston. It’d all happened so fast, too—like being pushed out of a plane without a parachute.

“It was hard for me, though. It took a while to have feelings for someone again,” she says quietly. “Though I did have a boyfriend by the time I graduated.”

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