Page 41 of Nerdelicious
Granny bought her the giant inflatable and gave it to her yesterday.
There’s a flurry of activity near the firepit and camp table, where the others are gathering towels and frisbees and transferring food and drinks from a large cooler into a smaller, more transportable ice chest. A high-pitched humming fills the air as Beast uses a battery-operated air pump on Grace’s flamingo.
“Do you have sunscreen?” Annabel calls out.
I respond, “I have some.”
“I’m so ready to get in the water,” Fitz says.
“Feeling hot under the collar from losing at cards? Riddled with nerves?” Jude drawls.
Fitz snorts. “You couldn’t make me nervous if you tried, old man.”
“Now, now, puppy, you should respect your elders.”
Annabel rolls her eyes. “You’re like five years older than Fitz.”
“A veritable lifetime.”
“Let’s go!” Grace yells, already heading down the path between the trees that leads to the shimmering water in the distance.
Beast hefts the cooler onto his shoulder, like it’s full of air instead of packed to the brim with food and drinks and ice, following behind Grace.
I meander behind the others, listening to the chatter and laughter as we take the short walk to the beach.
The trees abruptly end in a bed of wild grass that peters out into a sandy stretch of beach.
Grace tosses her towel and bag on the sand and races to the water, lugging her giant flamingo with her.
Beast trails her, his gait twice as long but still having to jog to keep pace. He catches up to her at the shoreline, squeezing sunscreen into his hand. She bounces on her toes in the shallow waves while he attempts to spread the stuff on her back.
In most ways, Grace fits the narrative of a fourteen-year-old, but seeing her here—it’s like she’s more of a kid. Granted, she’s in that strange twilight between childhood and adulthood. But if what Annabel said bears even a hint of truth, she may not have had much of a childhood at all. Most teenagers would probably think it’s lame, being at the lake with their family, no friends to gossip or hang out with, but not Grace.
I lay out my towel and shuck my jean shorts, self-conscious in the plain, black, one-piece suit I found at the general store at the last minute.
Jude pushes open an umbrella, shoving it into the sand and twisting it open with competent ease. “I have some activities planned.“
“Of course you do,” Annabel says.
“Sarcasm does not befit you, my dear.”
She rolls her eyes while he pulls off his shirt in that quintessential guy way, tugging up the back before whipping it over his head.
“I’ll tell you—” Annabel cuts off midretort. And I don’t blame her. Jude is all golden, tan skin and lean muscles.
“Uh, let me put sunscreen on you.” She pats the towel in front of her and he grins and lopes over, settling down so she can rub it on his back.
Reese and Fitz are on the other side of Annabel. Already shirtless and ready for the water, Fitz hands Reese water from the cooler. Reese is wearing a one-piece, too, so I don’t feel so lame. Her suit is cuter though, dark green, high neck, speckled with large pink flowers.
There aren’t many people around, one family down the beach with small children, and a group of teenagers on the other side. The teens have music playing and the beat of a hip-hop song tinges the air.
Beast returns to where he dropped his towel next to mine. He whips off his shirt and my mouth instantly goes dry. Jude might be a golden god, but Beast is a tank.
I’ve seen him in his tight, form-hugging work shirts. I’ve felt those shoulders under my hands. But seeing him in the bright daylight? It’s a whole new world. And you can bet your ass I won’t dare close my eyes.
I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many muscles in the flesh. His shoulders are broad and defined, tapering down to the ridges of his abdomen, a sculpture of raw masculinity. He’s built in flawless proportion, nothing even CGI could improve upon.
My eyes are greedy little monsters, taking him in.
