What on earth?
I push my legs faster, struggling to keep up. Finally, she stops and looks around.
“Here,” she says, pointing to a crate.
Out of breath, I stop beside her and look down into the crate. “What is—are those lobsters?”
She nods. “Carmena was getting ready to make lobster rolls. I stole them.”
“Youwhat?” I glance at her, wondering if she’s crazy—like actually insane.
“They’re stillalive.” She points at the crate.
She’s right, I realize. Their claws have been secured with thick rubber bands, but the creatures are otherwise crawling and moving around inside the crate.
“What’s your plan here?”
She turns to me, grinning like a nut, and holds up a pair of scissors. “One of us holds them; the other snips the rubber bands.”
“I’ll snip.”
She laughs, the sound almost hysterical. “I grabbed them when Carmena left the kitchen, but then realized I needed scissors”—her eyes lift to mine—“and an accomplice.”
I laugh. “Happy to be of service.”
Though I do wonder how angry Hart, or Carmena, will be when they realize what we’ve done.
We release several hundred dollars’ worth of lobsters into the ocean, laughing maniacally. I don’t know much about lobsters, and I don’t know if these are from this ocean, can survive in it, or anything, butVaughn seems to think this is a better place for them than in Carmena’s pot, so I go with it.
By the time we make it back, the guys have started a massive bonfire on the beach, and no one seems to be the wiser that we will not be dining on late-night lobster rolls. Whit is dragging a huge piece of driftwood through the sand, and Hart is standing with his hands on his hips, surveying the fire. Blankets have been placed around the perimeter, forming a large ring, and a few people have claimed their spots—lounging and enjoying the warm, crackling roar.
Vaughn and I share a secret smile, still jogging toward the group. I feel like I’m eighteen again, sneaking out to go party with my friends. I stride over to Hart.
“Anything I need to know about?” There’s amusement in his eyes.
“We had to eighty-six the lobster rolls.”
He laughs. “I should have known with Vaughn.”
It makes me wonder if she’s some kind of animal rights activist or maybe a vegan. I take his cup and bring it to my lips. “What’s this?”
“A local beer. Try it.”
I taste citrus and something bright and slightly bitter. It’s not bad, but I’m really not a beer drinker.
I must make a face, because he chuckles. “I’ll bring you whatever you like. Reserve a blanket for us, would you?”
I breathe in the scent of brine and settle on a blanket next to Monty, who gives me a kind smile. “How long have you known Hart?” I ask.
“Since high school. We met in freshman orientation and bonded pretty quickly after that. He met Whit and Isaac in college, but I’ve known him the longest. Well, aside from Vaughn. He really likes you, you know.”
Before I can ask him any follow-ups, Hart returns, joining me on the blanket and handing me a glass of prosecco and one of his hoodies.
“In case you get cold,” he says. There’s something warm in his gaze. He settles in behind me and pulls me close. I lean back against his chest. I can feel the warmth of him everywhere, his arms around me holdingme close, but also inside my chest. Warmth blooms inside me simply from being near him.
Someone turns on music—Coldplay’s “Hymn for the Weekend”—and we watch, laughing as Isaac dances, entertaining us. The others clap and cheer him on while Hart chuckles softly near my ear.
Chris Martin sings through the speakers: “You make my world light up,” and “I just can’t get enough.” Hart strokes the inside of my wrist with his thumb. I feel so much in this moment—calm, relaxed, and happy.