Page 44 of Ripple Effect

“You want to help me learn more about sex?”

“I want to help you learn more about yourself . . . if that’s what you’re hoping for.” My voice drops a notch lower, softer. “I’m here for you, just like you’ve been here for me.”

Her gaze drops to the floor, her hands nervously playing with the edge of her shirt. “I don’t know ...”

“Well, it’s just an offer.”

She flicks her gaze up, her cheeks decidedly less pink. “You lean on me, I lean on you?”

“That’s the spirit.”

A soft chuckle escapes her lips, the sound easing some of the tension in my chest. “Okay, I’ll think about it.” She glances at the bottle she brought with her—half-empty now—then back at me. “So, do you maybe wanna share this wine with me?”

“I’m off booze, but thank you.” Averting my gaze, I gesture toward the mixing bowl resting on the coffee table. “I made some popcorn, though. You can finish watching Bentley’s show with us?”

“Yeah, I’d like that.” She pours herself a little more wine, then fishes around the cabinets for some Tajín to sprinkle on our popcorn. “Oh, and Elio?”

“What’s up?”

“I’m sorry I assumed you were lying.”

Fuck. Her saying that shouldn’t mean quite as much as it does, but something in my chest warms up at the apology. “I should’ve just told you in the first place.”

“You had your reasons,” she says, and it’s exactly what I needed to hear—a simple understanding from her. Not a dismissal but a quiet acceptance.

“Well, I’m glad it’s out there now,” I say. “No more secrets.”

“No more secrets.”

18

DAISY

Outside of surfing,I can’t remember the last time I felt this loose, this free. The world’s a little fuzzy around the edges, my laughter spilling into the quiet room. I’m not quite drunk but just tipsy enough to feel all bubbly inside.

The murmur of David Attenborough’s voice mingles with the lazy tumble of the sea, and I sink into the soft comfort of Elio’s couch. We finished upWings of Lifehours ago, and now we’re working our way through Bentley’s second choice.

Elio has one arm slung behind me as he stares at the TV, his fingers absentmindedly skimming the tips of my shoulders. It’s almost adorable how fascinated he is by this miniseries. And although I love the ocean and all its creatures, I’m only halfway paying attention, my fingers tripping clumsily over my phone screen.

“Shit,” I groan, rubbing my temple, pressing Ignore for the fifth time in a row.

Elio turns to look at me, his brows drawn together. “What’s up?”

“It’s just Logan. He texted me earlier when I was at my apartment.” I let out a sigh, probably too dramatic, and roll my eyes at my own theatrics. “I tried to ignore it, but now he keeps blowing up my phone.”

He cocks his head. “You went back to your apartment earlier?”

“Yeah, just to take a quick bath.”

“Somethin’ wrong with the bath I have here?”

“No, it’s not that. It’s just that when I came in earlier, I thought I heard you ...” I trail off, the words dying in my throat. “I thought I overheard something I wasn’t supposed to. So, yeah, I was a little flustered by it, and I just needed to clear my head.”

“Ah, right.” He falls silent, tension visibly coiling in his shoulders. “So, what is it that Logan wants?”

“To talk, I guess,” I say, shrugging. “God knows about what.”

He shifts in his seat, his arm pulling away from my shoulders. “He wants you back,” he says, his words a firm statement. “Guaranteed.”

---