We went down to the shore, Nick and I. We’d parked our bikes and wandered through a desert of sand dunes before the cooler surface by the water saved our blistering feet.
Nick flipped his vintage sunglasses up, or I did, scanning for the perfect spot. “Just there.” We set our towels down.
“Are you coming in?”
“Not yet. You go ahead.”
He tromped to the water’s edge, back muscles flexed in anticipation of the icy shock. I propped myself up on my elbows, waiting for him to jump in. He was such a graceful swimmer. Just then, he turned and ran back towards me.
“Forgot my glasses,” he said, setting them delicately on his towel. “What’s wrong? You seem caught off-guard.”
“What? No, I’m fine.”
He paused, his brow furrowed. Suddenly, he grabbed my hands and pulled me up [...] More at Sleet Magazine
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