Chapter 5

COVA

I've said it before, I'll say it again: Chris Sturniolo shirtless is a public safety hazard.

The curls, the chain, the golden skin, the laugh that sounds like something you'd bottle and sell as serotonin it's too much. The haircut is still fresh. His jawline is out here doing war crimes. And don't even get me started on the handprint he left on my thigh from casually helping me out of the Jeep earlier. Casual. As in: I'm dying, Your Honor.

We laid out our towels in a messy circle me, Chris, Matt, Nick, snacks, sunscreen, and vibes.

Chris sits beside me, one knee brushing mine, his arm slung lazily behind my back.

He has no idea he's killing me.

"You've been staring for five minutes," he says without looking up from his can of Sprite.

"You're not even looking at me, how would you know?" I shoot back, trying not to sound breathless.

He grins. "Because I feel it."

I do not survive this sentence.

Instead, I flop dramatically onto his shoulder like a fainting Victorian ghost and mumble, "I love you, I hate you, I'm confused and sunburned."

He chuckles and leans into the contact, letting our heads rest together.

"You forgot hungry."

Nick drops down beside us wearing rhinestone sunglasses and a neon pink shorts. "You're the reason I believe in enemies-to-lovers," he mutters, flicking his iced coffee dramatically. "And by 'lovers' I mean PLEASE JUST DATE BEFORE I COMBUST."

Matt, laying next to the cooler: "We can't rush the plot. They're still in the slow burn era."

Chris smirks. "Exactly. Gotta give the people angst."

I glance up at him, eyebrow raised. "So you admit we're a slow burn?"

His grin falters for a half-second barely before he recovers. "I plead the fifth."

🧡

CHRIS

The ocean is freezing, which should help, but somehow being wet and flustered around Cova makes things worse.

She's laughing, drenched from head to toe, hair wild, eyes squinting from the sun, and wearing my white tee knotted over her bikini like she didn't just commit emotional homicide.

I splash her.

She shrieks, lunging forward with both hands and we're full-on wrestling in the waves now laughing, slipping, limbs tangled.

"YOU MENACE," she yells, wrapping one arm around my neck in what she thinks is a chokehold.

"You're literally clinging to me like a starfish."

She gasps. "That's homophobic."

I wrap my arms around her waist and toss her into the next small wave.

She comes up sputtering, soaked and glowing and giggling so hard I want to tattoo the sound on my skin.

Then she blinks at me.

And suddenly we're still.

The water laps around us.Her fingers tighten in the hem of my shirt.I can see every tiny sparkle in her eyes.She looks at me like I'm it. Like I'm real. Like I'm safe.

I could kiss her right now.

God, I want to.

I want to so bad it hurts.

But I don't.

Instead, I flick water at her again and say, "Wanna race to the sand?"

🧡

COVA

Chris is laying beside me, shirtless and smug, hands behind his head, eyes closed. The way his stomach moves when he breathes is doing something to me and I don't want to talk about it.

I roll onto my side and start drawing lazy patterns on his arm with my fingertip.

He hums.

"That tickles."

"Shhh," I whisper. "Let me be your emotional support doodler."

He opens one eye. "You okay?"

"Yeah," I say. "Just feel...weird happy. Like, scary happy. Like, I-just-had-a-Disney-montage happy."

He smiles quiet, soft, honest. "Me too."

I look at him, really look at him.The ocean's still in his hair.His cheeks are sun-flushed.He looks like a memory I haven't made yet.

And for a second I want to say it.I like you. Not platonically. Not 'you're my person' in a friendly way. I like you like I daydream about kissing you when you talk too much about basketball and I hate basketball.

But I don't.

Instead I say, "Your hair's still my favorite thing. But like...this version might be illegal."

He chuckles. "You say that like I'm not already wanted in thirteen states."

I snort. "What for, emotionally endangering me?"

He glances sideways, eyes unreadable. "Something like that."

🧡

House of unhinged

Nicky'all were WRASSLIN in the ocean like a Nicholas Sparks deleted scene

Chriswe were having fun?? ur dramatic

Covaif romance was a sport we'd be doing slow motion warmups in the sand rn

Mattyou realize you're already dating without calling it that, right?

NickI'm bringing a minister to next beach day. one of you's getting proposed to and it's not me

CovaIdk what u guys are talking about

ChrisYeah Same

🧡

CHRIS

Cova sits in front of me on a beach blanket, knees pulled to her chest, hoodie sleeves covering her hands, hair wild from wind and salt.

I'm sitting behind her, arms around her waist, chin on her shoulder.

She smells like coconut sunscreen and lemonade. She's warm. She's humming something under her breath.

"Thanks for coming today," I say softly.

She leans back into me. "Would follow you to the ends of the earth, Sturniolo."

I rest my cheek against her temple. "Wouldn't want anyone else with me there."

She looks up at me. Big eyes. Slight smile.

"I love you," she says casually. Soft. Normal. Like she doesn't mean it like that.

But I do.

And one day, I'll say it.

For real.

When she's ready.

When I'm brave.

But for now, I squeeze her a little tighter and whisper back:

"Love you more."