Page 99 of Riptide

I haven’t fully caught a wave yet, but the water’s been kind to me when we paddle out and sit on our boards and that alone is a big deal for me. We’ve gone night swimming a handful of times, just the two of us, skinny dipping under stars so close it felt like the sky was bending down to meet us. And I haven’t panicked. Not once. The ocean doesn’t scare me here. It feels like something quieter. Something closer to home than it has in a long time.

My phone pings next to me, an email notification swiping down the top of the screen with the subject line reading,OCC Class Schedule Confirmation.

I click on it, already knowing most of what I’m going to see. But when I scroll and come across my math class requirements, I don’t see Professor Nicholas Jones, and a little part of me pouts at that.

“Looking for my name?” He appears behind me, dropping a kiss on the top of my head.

“Hoping to screenshot you all proper in your suit and put you as my background,” I say, flicking my eyes up to catch the curl of his smirk.

“Oh yeah?” His arms bracket me from behind, draping over my chest and splaying over my stomach.

“Would’ve made a great conversation starter. ‘Oh him? That’s my math professor turned boyfriend, isn’t he incredibly hot?’”

“Wow, incredibly hot? Don’t oversell me.” He chuckles.

“Have you seen you? This relaxed island version of you is even hotter than the professor version. You swap slacks for linen trousers and, suddenly, I’m feral.”

Eyes widening slightly, he snorts and sits next to me. “Feral?”

I nod, shifting toward him on couch until our knees brush. “Like, fully unhinged. It’s honestly a miracle I haven’t climbed into your lap already.”

“Don’t let me stop you.”

There’s that look in his eyes—the one that undoes me without even trying. I lift my body up, knees sinking into the pillows on either side of his thighs, hands finding his shoulders as I kiss him. Slow at first, just enough to savor the closeness. But then he uses those big hands of his to pull me closer, and I grind against him. Every tilt of our heads pulls us further into the kiss until we’re only moving on instinct and desire.

Then the iPad rings from the coffee table.

I break the kiss briefly. “Ignore it,” I pant, pressing into him again. Eventually, it stops, and two seconds later, it starts again. “Ughhh,” I growl as Foxx smiles against my lips.

Looking over my shoulder, he says, “It’s Daphne.”

“Of course it is,” I grumble and climb off him. We both have to do some fast rearranging to hide what we don’t want my sister to see. But once we’re good, he sets it down between us, angling it so both of us are in the frame, and taps to answer.

Rosie appears first—blurry and loud and babbling into the camera like she knows exactly how FaceTime works now. She’s got jelly on her face and no pants on, just her cute little diaper butt and a pink shirt. It’s impossible to be mad when she answers the phone.

“Hiiiiii!” she squeals.

Foxx chuckles beside me.

“Hi, hi, hiiiii!” she squeals louder.

“Hi, baby girl,” he coos, his voice going high and warm in a way I only ever hear when he’s talking to her. He doesn’t even try to hide how much he adores her. I can tell because his smile is gooier somehow, and then he instinctively moves to adjust the screen so she’s front and center, leaning in like seeing herthis way somehow makes the distance feel smaller. It’s the most adorable pairing. At just over a year old, she’s got him wrapped around her tiny, sticky fingers, ever since that first babysitting gig, and more since then. He looks at her like she handed him the stars, and it melts me. Now, every FaceTime call is a personal summons, and he never misses one. He still keeps a paint-streaked toddler scribble she made taped to the fridge at his place.

Hudson leans into frame with his usual shit-eating grin. “Well, well, if it isn’t the island lovers.”

I flick him off casually. “Aloha to you too.”

Daphne appears behind him, her hair up, cheeks flushed like she’s been chasing Rosie around the apartment all day. “She’s non-stop now,” she says, bouncing Rosie lightly on her lap. “Into everything, babbling all day, pulling every single book off the shelf and causing messes everywhere.” She turns to the baby, puckering her cheeks. “Isn’t that right, Ro?”

Rosie giggles and blows raspberries.

Foxx chuckles, brushing his thumb over my knee. “She’s going to run that daycare.”

“Honestly, she kind of already does.” Daphne sighs. “She walked in, plopped herself down on the carpet during story time, and didn’t want to leave when I came back an hour later. Barely noticed me.”

Hudson talks about pre-season training he’s doing with the team. Since he got drafted to the Oregon Beavers, he’s still able to come home for dinner and be around for his girls. Daphne is nearly done with her summer term workload, and she’s killing it, just like I knew she would. Our parents agreed to help out while Foxx and I weren’t around this summer, on the days she doesn’t go to daycare.

“Are you looking forward to coming home? It’s next weekend, right?” Hudson asks.

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