Page 117 of Error Handling
By the time I join Sarah at the blanket again, I’ve regained some of my composure. She’s lying in the sun with her sunglasses on, a peaceful look on her face.
“Did you find it?” she asks.
I nod and sit beside her.
“You going to leave that shirt on or am I the only one who’s going to lie here half-naked?”
I laugh nervously.
“I’m kidding,” Sarah says. “No pressure.”
I grab the bottom of my T-shirt but warn her before I pull it off. “I’m pale.”
“I’m lying here with SPF 100 on my body. Do you want some?” She sits up and reaches for her tote.
“No, I’m fine. I could use some color.”
“As long as it doesn’t come with blisters.”
I take off my shirt, wishing I had a bit more muscle to go along with her curves. Despite my pastiness, however, I know I don’t look half bad shirtless.
Sarah’s face is turned toward me, but I can’t see her eyes through the sunglasses. I don’t know if she’s checking me out or not.
“Do you want to walk along the shore?” I ask. I need to move.
“Sure.”
She digs through her tote and pulls out a flimsy cover-up, so thin it probably doesn’t offer any sun protection.
“Is that a magic tote?” I ask.
Sarah slips her glasses to the tip of her nose and raises an eyebrow.
“If I ask for a rabbit,” I continue, “can you pull one out for me?”
She pinches the right corner of her mouth. “No. We’re not in Narnia.”
“Oh. Darn. I was hoping you could pull me out a burger.” I grab the cover-up and hold it while she threads her arms through. As suspected, I can still see everything through the sheer fabric.
I focus on her sunglasses, wishing I could see her eyes. It’s not fair. She might be looking at my three chest hairs. I have noway of knowing. But she can see my eyes, so I make sure they’re pointed anywhere other than her skimpy swimsuit, even though I want to stare. Funny, before this exact moment, I would have categorized myself as a gentleman.
“Sorry, no luck,” she says.
“Huh?” I have no idea what she’s talking about.
“I have no magic charcoal grill in my tote on which to fix you a magic burger.”
Oh yeah. Magic hamburgers. “Bummer.”
We head down to the water, leaping from one foot to the other. The sand has had all day to bake in the sun, and it nearly turns my feet into grilled burgers.
“I should have worn my flip-flops!” Sarah squeals.
I lunge toward her and swoop her into my arms to carry her down the last bit of dry shoreline. When we reach the wet sand, I gently place her back on her feet.
She’s laughing. “Thank you. You’re my knight in shining armor.”
We head to the water and start walking south. Cold water swirls around our feet, quickly rendering them numb so we can continue walking in the shallow waves without discomfort.