Page 84 of The Beach Trap

“I... I...” I’m not sure what to say, or why he cares so much about Blake. He’s been trying to get us to reconcile since he first met her. My stomach twists in a knot at the realization: Henry has a thing for Blake.

It guts me. Everyone seems to prefer Blake over me, and why wouldn’t they? She’s beautiful in an unassuming way, she listens when people talk, and it seems there’s nothing she can’t do.

She’s the one my dad taught how to spit sunflower seeds; she’s the one Junior has fallen for—so of course, Henry would, too. She’s definitely more his type than I am. She doesn’t mind getting her hands dirty, no one would ever think to callhera spoiled snob, and Sunny adores her.

It shouldn’t matter—Henry already made it clear he isn’t interested in me—but I’m just so tired of being second place.

I turn and look at Henry, whose green eyes are full of concern and focused on me. There’s a speck of brown in his left eye I haven’t noticed before. He breaks the stare and looks at his hands, folded in his lap. I summon the courage to put it out there and ask. It’s better to know than to wonder.

“You like her, don’t you?” I ask. “Blake? You’ve got a thing for her, too?”

Henry looks up, and as his mouth settles into a frown, I know I’m right. For once, I wish I wasn’t.

“No,” he says. “I’ve got a thing for her sister.”

I frown, too, until I realize what he said. As far as I know, I’m the only sister Blake has.

The knot in my stomach loosens as I think back to the last few months. Seeing Henry outside the bank, the fact that he even recognized me, then watched as I walked away. How patient he was helping me choose between colors for the kitchen backsplash when I know he doesn’t give two shits about color. The way he lingered after fireworks on the Fourth. The invitation to go boating. Alone. Just the two of us. That moment after I fell. He hesitated. I could feel his heart beating beneath my palm, and I knew I wasn’t the only one who felt something. I’ve been assuming he’d never go for someone like me, but maybe he’s been thinking the same thing about me.

For the second time tonight, I take a risk and put my heart out there. “I’ve got a thing for you, too,” I tell him.

Henry shakes his head, and it takes everything in me not to crumble in a million little pieces. “Two minutes ago, you were crying about Junior, the underwear heir.”

“You were right,” I say, hoping desperately that he’ll believe me. “It wasn’t about him.”

Henry nods. He knows it’s true; he’s already said as much. But he’s still painfully far away from me on the other side of the bench. I want to close the distance between us, feel his strong hands on my back, his soft lips on mine. They look like they’d be soft.

“You’ve got a lot in your head right now,” he says. “I can’t just be something you use to make yourself feel better.”

Then, without a word, he stands up, making the bench and my heart rock with his absence. He can’t just leave me out here alone. There’s a storm brewing inside me, and he’s the one who stirred all these feelings up.

“Where are you going?” I ask, torn between hurt and dismay.

“Relax,” Henry says. “I’ll be right back.”

The door closes behind him, and I sit, stewing in my feelings and trying to make sense of it all. How can he say he has a thing for me, and then just walk away?

A few minutes later, the door swings open again, and Henry smiles at me from the doorway. He’s holding two Popsicles, just like in my dream of us as children. My heart lifts, and I’m certain it was a memory.

“Do you still like these?” he asks.

I nod, even though I can’t remember the last time I had a Popsicle. Such a simple, sweet treat, synonymous with childhood.

He hands me one, and I unwrap it. Red. My favorite flavor.

Henry sits down on the bench beside me and opens his grape one. The two inches of air between us are charged with electricity, and this time, I know it’s not my imagination.

I bring the Popsicle to my lips and taste it. It’s cold and sweet, and just like back then, it makes the sting of my troubles melt away—although I’m not sure if I can give that credit to the Popsicle or the man who knew it would do the trick.

“Thank you,” I tell him. “I already feel better.”

Henry nods and twirls the grape Popsicle in his mouth. My stomach flutters, and I can’t believe I’m jealous of frozen fruit juice on a stick. It hurts my heart that Henry would think that I’d just use him. Even if he never kisses me, I need him to know that I wasn’t just looking for a distraction.

I take a deep breath, then say, “I may have more than just ‘a thing’ for you.” He looks at me, and a lock of thick chestnutbrown hair falls in his face, and I want more than anything to reach over and tuck it behind his ear. But I have more to tell him.

“You’ve gotten under my skin, Henry Alexander. It’s amazing how patient you are. You’re such a good listener that you even hear the things I don’t say. I love what a good dad you are to Sunny, and most of all...” I stop, unsure how to put this feeling into words. “You’re the one person who’s been able to make me feel grounded and safe and real. But if you don’t feel the same—”

Before I can finish, Henry’s lips are on mine. They’re just as soft as I imagined, but colder, and sweet like artificial grape flavoring. I open my mouth, inviting him to deepen the kiss. This time, he accepts. The kiss is tentative at first, but then his hand slips behind my neck and pulls me closer. I shiver at the cold rush of his tongue brushing against mine, and I’m pretty sure I’ll never think of Popsicles the same way again.

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