Page 36 of So Close

Something had sent him back into his shell.

Well, fuck it, she’d drawn him out once, and she’d do it again.

“You can’t wear pants for beach biking,” she said levelly. “You’ll roast. You need shorts or swim trunks, and sandals would be good.”

“I don’t have those.”

“You’re at the beach with no shorts or swim trunks.”

“I’m only nominallyat the beach.”

“Have you even been down on the beach at all yet?”

He shook his head.

She sighed. “I’ll ask Levi if you can borrow some of his beach clothes.”

He shook his head. “No way. I’m not wearing some other guy’s swim trunks or sweaty sandals.”

She looked him over. Just thinking about riding a bike in pants made her uncomfortable—let alone with the sun blazing down on them. “We’re going shopping, then.”

“Where?” His eyebrows drew together, suspicious.

“Let me worry about that.”

“In town? Because there aren’t any real stores in town.”

She rolled her eyes. “Deal with it.”

“You’re going to make me go to one of those tourist traps, aren’t you?”

She raised her eyebrows. “You’d hate that, huh?”

He nodded.

“Then, yes, definitely.”

The corner of his mouth lifted, almost imperceptibly. Was that an actual smile? Yes. It was barely detectable, but she didn’t need to be able to see it to confirm it, because she could feel it in her chest. She’d made Trey Xavier smile.

He could retreat into his turtle shell, but she’d lure him out again. For Beachcrest.

And for her. Because the mystery of him reached out to something inside her. Because she’d seen those hints of warmth—of softness—and goddammit, she wanted to pull him apart like a warm chocolate croissant and lick out the “gooeyness” inside.

Notliterally, of course. There could be no licking.

She tried to imagine what he’d have to say if she shared that metaphor with him and had to cough back a laugh.

“What?” he demanded.

“Just—finish up and get your butt out here. We haverealwork to do.”

18

“No,” he said, hanging back on the sidewalk as she stepped forward, toward a shop called Sea Stuff. “I can’t shop in there.”

The two large storefront windows brimmed with beach clichés—pastel colored women’s coverups, pillows that said “Everything’s Better At The Beach,” a frisbee with a sand dollar on it, a rainbow kite, a folding shovel with an octopus decal. An assortment of cheap jewelry bearing sea star charms and exhortations to “Love” or “Breathe.”

“Youcan,and you are.”

---