I lay on my stomach next to Sage on the back of the yacht, staring out at the rippling blue waves behind us with the sun beating down on my back. Constantino sat back on a chair, his dark Italian skin glistening with tanning oil.
“I feel like I’m in a toaster,” Sage mumbled, glancing over at me through her glasses.
When I peered over at her, her pasty skin had turned a shade of pink. I grabbed the sunscreen and squirted it all over her back, rubbing it into every inch of her that was exposed to the sun, slipping my fingers underneath her bikini strings.
Once I collapsed back down next to her, I pushed a couple of her curls off her forehead and tucked them behind her ear. I squirted some lotion on my fingers again and dabbed some on her nose, which was burning. She watched me closely and
