Page 64 of Our Scorching Summer

“Lily?”I rub my hair with my towel. I don’t think the hour-long shower managed to get all the sand off my body, but it’ll have to do. Lily left me buried out there for three soccer matches. I was certain the seagulls would eventually make a feast out of me.

She sits in the kitchen, typing away again at her computer. The privacy screen on the ancient, sticker-clad laptop does little to block out the text on display from this angle.

Unusual.

This must be the first time she hasn’t slammed the device shut in my presence.

The wordsZoe Monadecorate the website header in the same cursive font from last week.

Huh.

I was starting to suspect she was a secret agent or something with how anxious she is about her computer privacy.

When she finally senses me watching her, Lily repeats her caught-in-the-act routine, swiftly shutting her laptop.

“You scared me.” She turns to me, a scolding glare in her eyes.

“Why are you always so weird with your laptop? You were only reading an article or whatever.” I’ve been less freaked out when my brother walked in on me while I had a date over.

“No. It’snothing.” Her voice is sharp.

I wade closer. “I’ve never known you to be embarrassed or insecure about something.”

“Everyone has insecurities.” Lily huffs before swiping the computer off the kitchen island and locking it away in her room.

“What are you doing?” I shout after her. “Putting it under surveillance?”

“Maybe, if it’ll stop you from being so nosy.”

She returns to the kitchen, avoiding eye contact.

“I’m pretty sure whatever you’re reading there won’t be the most shocking thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Respect my privacy, Nico.” Lily rushes off to the balcony, leaving me alone.

I get the hint she wants this secret. But secrets always have a way of revealing themselves.

Especially if I’ve set my mind on digging them up.

Chapter15

Lily

“Where the fuck are you?”I yell into my phone and rip it from my ear to check if the line is still ringing. Of course this is happening right now. I click off the call and check the time.

5:16 p.m.Right next to my almost-drained battery from the roaming.12%.

Nico’s over an hour late and not answering me.Again.

I grind my teeth together, my molars practically splintering. A torrent of worry floods my chest. Something may have happened. He promised to pick up his phone when I called.

I inhale a calming breath, but my lungs fill with humidity and dust. I cough and recheck the address I texted him yesterday.

R. Joaquim Silva, 82—Centro, Rio de Janeiro

Yep. Still the right place. Still no Nico.

Fucking typical.

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