“You need to show more leg on a regular basis,” I announce, smiling.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” I say, hand moving boldly up her side, under the white wifebeater. It has become transparent, and I can see her nipples poking up. There is something very primal, earthy and satisfying to be laying with her on the water, my hand splayed flat on her warm skin.

She looks at me with one of those bottomless stares. Here in the ocean her eyes seem very green and I have no idea what is going on there. Then she pulls me to her and kisses me, sending bliss skyrocketing up through me.

We emerge from the water later, laughing, faces warm with impending sunburn, hers more than mine. We drag the giant whale between us and stumble from the surf onto the sand, falling happily onto Alice’s big blanket.

“You two need to get married already,” Alice says, squinting, shading her face with a hand.

The others on the blanket – Jenny, Bette, and Kit, and Tina, suddenly bust into laughter. “What’s so funny?” I ask. I don’t know why until I look at Shane. We are wearing identical expressions of horror.

.

Later that night, Shane has a ***** of a sunburn and I promise her that I know the cure. I come over with a vat of Nivea cream. Her face and arms and the front of her legs are bright red. She slathers it onto her face thickly, as if she means to shave with it.

“That’s awesome,” she says, leaning back on the couch.

“Give it here. I’m a little burnt too.” I do the same, and lie on the couch opposite her. The cream cools my face and I almost fall asleep like that. We lay there like that for a while.

Jenny comes in. “Hey, guys,” she says. She is holding the hand of a curvy black girl in low-rise jeans.

“Hey.”

“This is Alex. Alex, Shane and Darah.”

“Hi.”

“Hey.”

“Nice to meet you.”

“You too.” She’s a pretty girl. She wears silver bangles on her upper arms that shine in contrast to her dark skin.

Jenny leads the girl into her bedroom and I cover my eyes with my forearm.

“You know what else helps? Laying on a really good quality sheet.”

I open my eyes when Shane doesn’t answer. She is staring at the ceiling. Suddenly she gets up. “I’m gonna go out,” she says.

That is my cue to leave.

“Allright. Well, enjoy the Nivea.”

“Thanks.”

I run my fingers through my hair and pick up my beach bag. “Happy birthday, dude. Later.”

“Thanks,” she grins.

I’m not sure what is troubling me. I walk the few blocks to my house, sorting it out. It wasn’t that she kicked me out, because I was getting tired and would have left soon anyway. I guess it was that I did or said something, or simply lingered long enough for her to feel hemmed in, ruining an otherwise perfect day. I feel a bit sad and bittersweet as I ascend the steps to my house, but I’m more angry at myself than I am at her.