Page 38 of All Our Nevers

She exhales. “Okay. Thanks. I’ve been so stressed ever since I bought it.”

“You got lingerie too? Tell me everything.”

“Okay, well…” She shifts our positions, ensuring her back is still facing the boys on shore. “I got one in black because I feel like that’s classic, and one in white for a bridal vibe.”

“Hot.”

“The white one is just a pretty basic lace bra and panties set, but it has this sheer covery thingy…”

She’s gesturing in a loose shape over her body as I say, “Negligee.”

“Yes.” She points at me in confirmation. “Thank you. But the black one is kind of intense. It does this criss-cross thing where it starts up here and wraps back and forth, you know what I mean?” Her fingers draw a path over her chest, wrapping around her waist, then criss-crossing over her hips.

“You trying to seduce me with that move, Soph? Damn.”

“Stopppp,” she laughs, splashing me away.

I should be clear about something: Sophie is beautiful. Soft curves and silky straight brown hair and big hazel eyes that pour out emotion at the slightest provocation. She’s got that cute-hot thing going for her, borderline sexy-baby territory.

But am I attracted to her? Wholeheartedly and ardently no.

Just like Andy. Obviously I can tell he’s an attractive guy, if you’re into the whole brooding nerd thing. He’s got dark wavy hair, a prominent nose, a sharp jawline… it works. But the idea of ever touching him in an even slightly sexual way makes me want to crawl out of my skin and burrow into hell.

I honestly don’t understand how Sophie and Andy found themselves in this situation. Hooking up with a friend would feel like hooking up with my brother: revolting on a cellular level. Someone is either my friend, or they’re a romantic prospect. Never both.

Of course, they can also be neither. Case-in-point: Owen Walsh.

I glance over to the shore again, where Owen, Nolan, and Andy are now standing and pulling off their shirts. I guess they’re finally ready to join us. Unsurprisingly, my brother is the first to sprint down the sand like a child at summer camp. He doesn’t stop when he hits the water, pushing forward until I realize he’s barreling straight for me.

“No, stop! I don’t want my hair—”

But it’s too late. He’s tackling me backwards into the water as I attempt to punch him in the fucking face. When I break the surface, angry as a wet cat, I shove him sideways.

“Fuck off, Nolan! I wanted to take more pictures with dry hair.”

“Shoulda thought of that before you looked so pushable,” he says, shaking out his wet hair like a dog. “Woo boy, it’s cold in here!”

Andy and Owen reach us then, a loose circle forming among our group of five. In a row like this, I’m struck by how different our bodies are. Andy and I are lean, long lines, Sophie all soft circles, Nolan never beating the gym bro allegations, and Owen who’s… well…

If I didn’t know him as a person, he’d be exactly my type. At least for guys. Big but not huge. Strong but soft. Interesting to look at and interesting to draw, with his tattoos and beard and scorchingly bright blue eyes.

I look away before anyone can notice and misinterpret my expression. Again, it’s not that I’m interested in him, he’s just visually interesting.

But now I’m overcompensating, looking anywhere else. Across the sparkling amber sand, the creamy greens and blues of the water, and even…

A woman walks past my line of sight in a yellow bathing suit that defies the laws of physics. Now she’s my type: tall, curly hair, confident, and yeah, her toned body definitely doesn’t hurt. Maybe I should go over. You know, just to say hi, put the old gaydar within range for a signal.

That idea is promptly killed by someone shifting in the corner of my eye.

Owen’s gaze follows the woman as she walks towards her friends. He’s staring shamelessly at the sway of her body in the water, and it’s as much as I can stand. I shove him sideways with the force of my full body.

“Ew! Stop staring at her, creep.”

“The fuck are you talking about? I only noticed her because you were staring at her!”

“I am a woman and an artist. I appreciate the female form.”

“Oh, spare me, Amelia. You want a piece of that just like I do.”