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“That’s fucking awesome. Those are my guilty pleasure.”
“Really?” I asked, surprised that she would dabble in the fantasies of love and sex.
“Oh, yeah. Politics can be cut-throat, so it’s nice to have an escape.”
“I can understand that,” I said. “I escape my own novels by reading crime or thrillers.”
“You have to have that break from work, while not entirely leaving it. I get that. I read gossip columns too, when the political stuff gets too heavy.”
I was really beginning to like this girl.
Troy cleared his throat after being ignored for close to twenty minutes.
“Oh, Troy. I forgot you were here,” said Erica, feigning surprise.
I let out a laugh. I liked her humor, when it wasn’t at my expense first thing in the morning, of course.
“Ha, ha,” said Troy. “Sorry to interrupt this…” He pointed between us, raising an eyebrow.
“Jealous?” asked Erica.
“A little.” He held up two fingers and held them an inch apart.
I leaned into him and squeezed his knee. It was a tiny moment of intimacy that was finally seen by someone else. Not just someone, but someone in his family. Someone close to him. It was the smallest thing, but it felt so big. Especially because I felt so comfortable doing it in front of her.
“What do you girls want to do today?” he asked, looking between us two.
I somehow didn’t mind that our getaway as two had now become a getaway of three.
“I want to go down to the beach with a plethora of alcoholic beverages and get drunk and tan,” said Erica with a nod.
Troy looked at me.
“I’m game,” I said.
“All right. It’s settled. I’ll run to the store,” he said.
“Not until you help me wash these dishes,” said Erica, standing up and clearing the table.
“I can help.” I stood up and reached for a dish.
She waved me away.
“You relax. You’re a guest.” She nodded for Troy to follow her.
I watched them walk to the sink with a stack of plates in their hands. I could see their closeness just in how they walked and looked at each other.
“I like her,” I heard Erica whisper as she began rinsing the dishes.
I smiled at her words. They meant more than she knew.
An hour later, the three of us were out on the white sand beach, lying out on large black-and-white striped towels with cocktails in hand. Troy had gone to the store and picked up everything we needed for pina coladas. He must have made them extra strong because the almost empty one in my hand had already gone straight to my head.
“Refills, anyone?” he asked, propping himself up on the towel and looking over at us.
It was hard not to let my mind wander down his tan, muscular stomach toward the V outline that peeked out from his black swim trunks. Thankfully, I had dark sunglasses on, so Erica didn’t catch me eye-drooling over her brother.
“Yes, please,” said Erica, holding up her empty glass.