Hot Mess

“So… Does your aunt often get naked on the beach with her friends?”

I sighed, setting down the brush after edging around the doorframe. “More often than I’d like. I don’t mind them coming to the beach to do their alien watching, but I wish they’d leave their clothes on.”

She stifled a giggle. “But why do they get naked? I thought they were Wiccans at first. Then, I would have understood, but aliens?”

“I think they think there’s power in nakedness. Or that the aliens will get them naked anyway, so they’re skipping a step. I keep telling them that they’re more likely to scare the aliens away if they’re naked, but they think I’m crazy.”

“You don’t agree with them?”

“I don’t know if it’s a matter of agreeing with them. I think it’s terribly egotistical of humans to blindly believe we’re the only intelligent life in an infinite universe, but I would rather they didn’t beam me up and probe me when said other life, who is probably more intelligent than us, finds us.”

“Well, their methods leave something to be desired,” Elle agreed after a moment. “But at least they’re not hurting anyone.”

“I’m not sure. Two years ago, they were protesting outside the town hall. The mayor sent a police officer out to move them on, but Maude took offence and hit him with her picket sign.”

Elle’s eyes widened. “She hit a police officer?”

“She did it in such a way she claimed it was an accident.” My lips curved to the side. “So she got away with it, but the police officer now runs in the other direction when he sees her coming.”

“What are they protesting outside the town hall?”

“The fact that the governments, local or otherwise, are hiding proof that aliens are real. They demand the truth at three o’clock every Friday afternoon.”

“What? Do they have a standing appointment with the mayor or something?”

“I wish I could say no. The mayor told them that daily protests were problematic and disruptive, but if they wanted to pick a day and time, he would take five minutes to entertain them.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “For real?”

“I’m not kidding. Go by there on Friday at around three-forty-five and wait. He’ll come out for the final five minutes, tell them they’re crazy, reiterate that he has no proof of aliens and even if he did, releasing it isn’t his call. Then, at four, everyone disbands, and life goes back to normal.”

“That… is a little strange.”

“Creek Keys is a little strange. You get used to it.”

“I’m not sure naked pensioners on the beach at night is something anyone could ever get used to.”

“You are not wrong.”

We shared a smile, and I turned back to my painting.

“I’m going to get some more water. Do you want some?” Elle asked, pausing next to me.

“Sure. Thanks. Do you have any ice?”

She smiled and nodded. “I’ll put it in a glass.”

Damn it.

I was starting to like her.

It didn’t hurt that she was fucking beautiful.

It was pretty hard to hate beautiful people. It was unfair—and also why I could never really stay mad at Arielle for very long.

I turned to dip my brush in the paint, but right as I did, Elle returned. I saw the water glass too late—we collided, and her gasp accompanied the shock of ice-cold water coating me. I was battered by ice cubes, and I let out a loud “Fuck!” when one smashed into my nose.

I was soaked.

“Oh, my God! I’m so sorry!” Elle dropped what she was holding—the water bottle and the glass. The glass shattered the moment it hit the wooden floor, sending tiny specks of glass flying across it. “Oh, shit the bed!”

“Bloody hell,” I breathed, dropping my paintbrush into the roller tray. “That’s cold.”

“I am so sorry! Oh, my God! Let me get you a towel!” She froze, holding out her hands. “Don’t move. I’ll get the broom!”

She rushed away like she had a rocket up her arse and grabbed the broom from where it was standing against the wall in the kitchen. She ran back over and swept it all into a pile at the side of the doorframe, then stared at me.

“Oh. Crap! I forgot the towel.”

I rubbed my hand down my face. Jesus, she was right when she’d said that she wasn’t loved for her grace or elegance.

“It’s fine.” I reached down and pulled my shirt up and over my head, then used it to wipe my face. The water had been oddly soothing—it was a million degrees in the humid mess that was Florida, but it was now uncomfortably warm from where it had stuck my shirt to my stomach.

Elle turned and froze, her blue eyes widening. Like the glass and bottle before it, the towel slipped out of her hand and fell to the floor, although that was decidedly less messy than the glass.