"Rude."
"Real friends—"
"Are full of shit?"
"Sometimes."
"How about a real California girl?" I ask.
"With blond hair and fake tits?"
"No, the natural type. With great flexibility from yoga."
"She sounds too zen."
"A surfer boy?"
"Him too… but then Max isn’t remotely zen and—" She looks to the beach as an extremely handsome man emerges from the surf. "Speak of the devil."
Max steps onto the sand, easy, confident, sexy as fuck. He holds his surfboard with one hand, runs his fingers through his hair with the other.
His dark locks are longer now, almost long enough to fall over his eyes. He’s a different person in California. Easier. Freer. Constantly wearing very tight jeans that show off his amazing butt.
Not that my ability to stare at his ass is the important part of this. But, fuck, that tiny swimsuit—
His muscular thighs—
How is he so sexy in anything and everything?
"Oh my god. There’s no way you’re coming over tonight." Izzie laughs. "Good thing you’re wearing a bikini, huh? Bet those bottoms are drenched."
"Don’t be gross."
"No deal." She laughs as Max comes closer. She’s laughing at me, at my inability to tear my eyes from his body, but I don’t care.
He’s perfect.
He’s mine.
For this summer. And, maybe, for longer too.
"Max." Izzie nods hello.
"Izzie." He flashes her a dazzling smile. "Enjoying the view?"
"It’s not bad." She turns toward something. "Getting better."
My lips curl into a smile. Max’s smile… it’s perfect. It’s everything.
Somehow, I manage to follow her gaze. Of course, she’s ogling Max’s younger brother Ben.
I can’t blame her. Ben is handsome. He looks a lot like Max, so, of course, he’s handsome. He’s probably more traditionally handsome, with his chiseled jaw and his broad shoulders. Where Max has intensity, Ben has lightness. Easiness. Like Liam, only significantly less annoying. Mostly.
"Are you trying to steal my baby brother’s innocence?" Max deadpans.
"Absolutely," she returns.
Ben catches up. Shoots Izzie his own dazzling smile. "Isabel."
"Mr. Morrison." She smiles.
"Will you stay in California if you fall in love with him?" Max asks.
"Love? Who’s talking about love?" Izzie teases.
"You need to be careful with Ben. He’s a heartbreaker," Max says.
Ben nods it’s true.
"My mom would hate it," she says.
"Good reason to do anything," Max says.
"You sound like your girlfriend," Izzie says.
We’re not boyfriend girlfriend, exactly. We’re not anything, except having fun for the summer, but he doesn’t correct her. He just says, "She’s a smart woman."
"And great taste too, right?" Ben teases him.
"I was going to say…" Max smiles.
My heart thuds against my chest.
His joy is effervescent. I need more. I need it all.
Even though I’ve had a lot. He still thinks about Raul, sometimes. He still falls into grief sometimes. But the rest of the time—
Well, a lot of the time, when he’s with me—
He’s not a happy-go-lucky guy, but he loves and laughs as intensely as he grieves.
Fuck, how did I get so cheesy?
I guess love does that to you.
He has a deep reserve of joy. Not the joy I see in other people. Something sharper and harder to see and all the more beautiful because I’m the only one who sees it.
When we walk along the beach, or cook dinner together, or lie on the couch and draw, he’s happy. We’re happy.
It’s not real life, exactly. I know. We’re still in an in-between state. He only works a few days a week. I spend my free time on my art. We have this summer together, and it’s all time and joy and light.
I don’t know if I’ll stay in California forever. But I know I’ll be in New York soon. I have school. And he has a life here. It’s complicated. Or it will be, come September.
But right now?
Right now, it’s perfect.
"Is she drooling?" Ben asks.
"She’s definitely drooling," Izzie says.
"I am not." I wipe my lip. Just in case. Absolutely no drool. But who could blame me for drooling over Max?
It’s not his lean torso or his sculpted shoulders or his intense eyes—
Though I do appreciate the aesthetic appeal of those traits—
It’s him. Some quality uniquely his.
"Put the girl out of her misery," Ben says.
"She enjoys the misery," Max says.
Izzie laughs and nods true.
Ben raises a brow.
"Stop laughing about my sex life." I can’t muster any outrage. This is easy too. My best friend, my not-boyfriend, his brother, the sun, the surf.
Fuck, I’m listing the surf in my favorite things.
I love the beach. I tried to deny it for a long time, especially when I first visited the Pierce manor (it’s on a windswept cliff, straight out of a Gothic romance novel), but I do. I love the salty breeze, the soft sand, the roar of the ocean.
And, of course, the sight of Max in a teeny, tiny swimsuit.
Okay, maybe I’m a little… obvious in my stare. A little.
"I can walk Isabel home," Ben says. "Leave you to it."
"Over my dead body," Max says, already protective of my best friend.