Page 17 of The Ex-Girlfriend Agreement

"But you wanted it to." It's not a question.

"Again, I was sixteen." She takes the sunscreen back from my hand. "It was a lifetime ago."

I want to press further, to ask if she still finds him attractive, if she regrets nothing ever happening between them. But I have no right to those questions—no right to feel this knot of jealousy twisting in my stomach.

"Let me get your back," I say instead, taking the bottle back.

Brooke hesitates, then turns, sweeping her hair over one shoulder. I squeeze sunscreen onto my palm and begin spreading it across her shoulders, her smooth skin warm under my hands. She shivers slightly at my touch, and I slow my movements, taking more time than necessary on the task.

"You missed a spot," I murmur, my fingers trailing down her spine to the small of her back, just above the bikini bottoms.

"Dean," she warns quietly, but doesn't pull away.

I finish reluctantly, handing the bottle back. "All done."

She turns to face me, her eyes dark and unreadable. "Thanks."

Before she can say anything else, Taylor calls everyone together for beach games, and the moment is broken. The next few hours pass in a blur of volleyball, swimming, and elaborate sandcastle competitions. I keep one eye on Brooke at all times, painfully aware of Chase doing the same.

He's not subtle about his interest. He positions himself on her team for volleyball, their hands brushing as they high-five after scoring. He sits next to her during lunch, leaning in too close to "hear over the waves." He offers to grab her drinks, compliments her sandcastle technique, laughs too hard at her jokes.

And Brooke—she's not exactly discouraging him. She smiles at his stories, playfully shoves his shoulder when he teases her, seems genuinely interested in hearing about his life in California. It shouldn't bother me. We're not really together. She's free to flirt with whoever she wants.

But it does bother me. It bothers me more than I want to admit.

By mid-afternoon, I've had enough. I'm sitting under an umbrella, watching Brooke wade in the shallows with Chase, their heads bent close in conversation, when Taylor drops into the chair beside me.

"Having fun?" she asks, adjusting her oversized sunglasses.

"Time of my life," I reply dryly.

She follows my gaze to where Brooke is laughing at something Chase said. "Ah. Feeling a little jealous?"

"Of what?" I scoff, though we both know it's transparent.

"Chase has always had a thing for Brooke," Taylor says casually. "Even in high school when he was dating Melissa. He used to find excuses to come over to our house, ask about her in class."

"Fascinating," I mutter, taking a swig of my beer.

Taylor nudges me with her elbow. "Don't worry. Brooke only has eyes for you. Anyone can see that."

If only she knew the truth. I force a smile. "Not worried."

"Good." She stands, brushing sand from her legs. "Because they're just friends. And you're the one sharing her bed tonight."

With that, she saunters off to join James, leaving me with the uncomfortable reminder that I am indeed sharing Brooke's bed—but not in the way Taylor assumes.

I watch as Brooke and Chase emerge from the water, laughing about something. Chase's hand rests briefly on her lower back as they walk up the beach, and my jaw clenches involuntarily.

"Water's perfect," Brooke says, dropping onto the chair next to mine and reaching for her towel. "You should go in."

"Maybe later." I hand her a bottle of water from the cooler, deliberately casual. "Having fun catching up with your friend?"

She eyes me over the rim of the bottle as she drinks. "Chase? Yeah, it's been forever. He's a pediatrician now in San Francisco."

"Fascinating," I say again.

Brooke's eyes narrow slightly. "He's just an old friend, Dean."

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