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Just not this publicly.

A jolt of courage hits me, pushing me forward. I inhale, starting to make my move.

“Kendall Farlow! In this family we don’t spit; we swallow!”

The sharp reprimand slices through the air, unflipping the switch and turning the world back on. Anton and I both look at each other, eyes going wide, and immediately burst into giggles.

Quickly glancing to my left, I spot the young mother wiping at her toddler’s mouth. That doesn’t stop my laughter though, especially once I turn back to the seriously good-looking man next to me. The one who is looking at me, like he’s thinking all sorts of extra dirty thoughts now.

Anton wraps his arms around me, tugging me into his chest, lining his mouth up to my ear. “That’s some solid advice there, Sawyer.”

I shiver, despite the summer heat, thankful to be in his arms. Nothing about what he said was particularly racy, yet it might just be the dirtiest thing anyone has ever said to me. And fuck if I didn’t like it.

If I don’t like him.

“Hey, you found it!” Cary greets, setting a large tote bag full of Tupperware containers on the blanket.

“I’d know this blanket anywhere,” Anton tells him. “There’s no missing that stain in the corner.”

“Uggggh,” Cary groans. “You had to mention that? ”

“Mention what?”

Tizzy places a tinfoil-covered cookie sheet down, smiling from ear to ear, her wild strawberry blonde waves piled on top of her head in the messiest bun I’ve ever seen. She’s such a contrast to Cary—not only his darker features, but his serious, more put-together disposition—but somehow, they fit.

“The stain on the corner of the blanket,” Anton answers. There’s a glint in his eye that says he’s up to no good, the air shifting around us. “He ever tell you that story, Tiz?”

“About how you snuck up on him jacking off in the peach trees, scaring him shitless, resulting in him punching himself in the face, giving himself a bloody nose and leaving a bloodstain on the blanket? Yes, I have heard the story.”

She answers so calmly, like it’s a story about a fishing trip, that I almost do a double take. Excuse me?

“You actually told her?” Anton seems impressed.

“Of course I did.” Cary shrugs. “And it was the pecans, not the peaches.”

“Hold on…what?” I ask. “That’s horrible!”

I reach over, smacking Anton’s arm with the back of my hand. He laughs, as Cary holds out a fist for a knuckles high five, thanking me for the solidarity.

“To be fair,” Cary defends, “we were fourteen. It’s not like this was last week.”

“I didn’t do it on purpose,” Anton explains. “I was trying to figure out where he was sneaking off to all the time, so I followed him. Saw him under the tree on the blanket, with a magazine, and figured he was just reading. Had I realized what he was also doing, I would have left him to it.”

“Besides, the stories I could tell about him ,” Cary counters.

I perk up, looking between the three of them.

Tizzy seems unbothered, unpacking the food, spreading out the assortment of meats and cheese, with crackers, chips, dips, breads, and even some olives, like a mini charcuterie on the go.

Plus, the baking sheet of chocolates she brought from her shop, Cocoa Corner.

The boys, however, are having a silent conversation—one I can’t translate.

“Like?” I ask.

“Like in the sixth grade when he got the bright idea to send himself a candy gram from the most popular girl in school, so that everyone in our fourth period history class—which is when they would be delivered—would think that she sent him one. Except he forgot the little detail that she was also in our fourth period history class and would know that she didn’t send him a candy gram. ”

“No. No.” I shake my head, unable to hold in my amusement. “Nooooo…”

“Sure fucking did,” Anton admits. “Renee works in HR at Hayes now, and assures me every Valentine’s that she still wouldn’t send me a candy gram.”

A wave of relief hits me, catching me off guard.

I don’t know why I’d be worried that decades later a girl who wasn’t interested in Anton at twelve would suddenly be competition—especially since it’s not like he and I are in this for the long haul—but having the confirmation that she’s not is comforting. Very comforting.

They continue, the two of them trading stories, trying to one-up each other with their stupid or embarrassing moments from growing up.

Tizzy and I sit back and listen, munching away on the food she brought, laughing as the two polar opposite besties show off.

Some of their tales aren’t so bad—everyday silly kid stuff—while others leave us cringing.

All of it, though, makes me fall even more.

“All I’m saying is the pink Speedo needs to come with you on your honeymoon,” Anton says, as he finishes telling me about the prank he pulled on Cary the weekend he met Tizzy .

“No. While I will admit it’s a part of our story, I’m not taking it on the honeymoon.”

“We’re going to take the frame and put it on the living room wall,” Tizzy quips.

“We’re not doing that either.”

I laugh, loving the dynamic between these two. “Careful, Cary. Anton might just put it up there for you.”

“Now there’s an idea,” Anton comments.

“You wouldn’t dare.” Cary glares at his best friend, then the two burst into laughter.

“So, Sawyer,” Tizzy says, cutting through their mirth. “Cary tells me you’re the new queen of the lab.”

“Ummm, no?” I shake my head. Not sure where she’s getting that.

“It’s a compliment,” Cary says, popping an olive in his mouth. “Sawyer here is the only one I’ve ever seen who can boss this guy around, and him listen.”

Anton shifts, holding up his hand and giving his best friend a single finger salute. I laugh, loving their easy teasing. More than that, I love how at home I feel.

A microphone comes to life, a middle-aged man’s voice filling the air, greeting everyone, as the screen behind him turns on.

“Oh, good, it’s finally starting!” Tizzy comments. “I was looking forward to The Goonies , but I’ve never actually seen The Sandlot , so this should be fun.”

“You never seen The Sandlot ?” I ask, confused. I figured everyone our age had seen this movie. Wasn’t it mandatory growing up?

“Nope! We weren’t big movie people.”

“You’re killing me, Smalls!” Anton and I say in unison.

“I get that response a lot when I say I haven’t seen it,” she says .

“What am I going to do with you, Tizzy?” Cary asks, kissing his fiancée.

“What?”

I laugh, turning my attention to the screen, letting them have their moment.

Anton has other ideas though, shifting himself, and then me, so that I’m sitting in between his spread wide legs, my back against his torso, wrapped up in his bear hug.

Settling in, I relax, loving the feel of this.

The safety. The weird, unspoken knowledge that this is where I belong.

“What am I going to do with you, Sawyer?” Anton whispers into my ear.

“This is a good start,” I reply, snuggling up against him.

There’s no missing the bulge that nudges against me, and I don’t bother hiding my smile. I like knowing that it’s there. That I’m responsible for that too.

“Just a start?”

He runs his hands across my front, slowly up toward my breast. I do my best to breathe normally, not wanting anyone around us to think that anything is going on, but it’s not an easy feat when he’s pinching my nipple through my clothing, returning his hand to my stomach as if nothing happened.

“Yup,” I exhale. “I was thinking that when we get home, I could follow those instructions Kendall’s mom gave us.”

Anton hisses, his hips bucking underneath me. Got him.

“You do that, and…”

He trails off, the silence from his lack of answer louder than anything else in the world. My heart sinks. Twisting, I look up at him, our gazes locking.

And I see it.

I can’t name it. But I see it.

“And what?”

“I don’t know that I’ll be able to hold back.”

“That’s kinda what I’m counting on.”