The following afternoon, Talia made up for a summer of Vitamin D deficiency.

After a brief argument over whether to visit one of the many beaches on Cape Cod or explore Rhode Island's vast coastline, she and Zaid had compromised and gone with her plan: a day in Newport.

Now relaxing on two towels on the grayish-white sand, they'd let the sun seep into their skin for the last two hours of this glorious eighty-five-degree summer day—and probably their heads, too, as hers was throbbing.

"What do you say we cool off with a swim?" Zaid asked.

Waiting for a response, he lifted himself up and rested his weight on his forearm, bare bicep bulging. She finally pushed her oversized tortoise-shell glasses to the top of her head, having let them conceal her shameless ogling for the last hour. When he tipped up his Ray-Bans, she had a new part of him to admire—the color of his eyes in the sun, a mesmerizing golden-olive, flecked with hints of amber.

Oh, to have been blessed with hazel eyes.

"I think I'm good," she said, throwing her head back against the towel. She hadn't even fully stripped down to her bikini, still clad in white linen shorts, which were sure to give her some awkward tan lines on her thighs. "I need to get rid of the last of my pastiness."

His fingertip met her bare stomach, feeling the seared skin. "Well, you accomplished that for sure. You're a lovely shade of ketchup."

She sprung up to a seated position. "I am what?"

"Geez, just kidding," he laughed, dragging a hand through his black hair. As he did so, he flexed his bronzed abdominal muscles ever so slightly, an act that was no longer accidental. "All I'm saying is there's probably no better time of year to swim here than August. According to this website, the water is"—he tapped his knuckle to his phone screen, squinting in the bright sun—"exactly seventy-three degrees."

"That doesn't sound so bad," she mumbled, aware that temperature was almost unheard of on the Pacific coast. "But still...I don't know. I'm sort of...terrified of the ocean."

"You? You don't strike me as being scared of many things, let alone the water."

She shrugged. "Well, you know, Northern California isn't exactly known for its beaches." Lathering some more tanning oil on her arms, she added, "I think I've skied more than I've swum in my life. You definitely need to visit Lake Tahoe if you ever make a trip to the West Coast."

"You realize there's a higher chance of dying on a ski slope than in some calm ocean water?" When he failed to convince her, he sighed and glanced at the pair of brothers building a pathetic sandcastle in the shallow waters. "Granted, my first introduction to swimming was pretty traumatic myself. Can't remember what it was that had Saif and a five-year-old me brawling on the shore of the Dead Sea, but I sure as hell didn't know what the Dead in that name implied when he shoved me in there." Shaking his head to himself, he finished, "Was a beautiful evening of throwing up some of the saltiest water on earth."

"Was there a family vacation you two didn't ruin?"

"Nope," he said, grasping her hand. In a blink, her feet met the burning hot sand. "Now let me ruin yours."

Their fingertips just brushing, they walked down the length of the beach, seeming to pass by couple after couple sprawled across the sand or glued to each other in the water.

"Don't you think—" Talia bit her tongue, not wanting to transform the atmosphere from neutral to plain awkward. She stared down at their touching hands, then joined them at last. "Never mind."

"No, what?" He squeezed ever so slightly. "I'm curious now."

"I don't know... As we were driving earlier, I couldn't help but think of how this city would make the perfect wedding spot. It's so picturesque."

"The Kennedys also thought that," he deadpanned. When her brow furrowed, he clarified, "No, really. We drove by the church they got married in on our way here." He leaned into her ear and whispered, "Would rather not be the John to your Jackie, if you get what I mean."

"Thanks for ruining that dream," she grumbled, trying to hide the stupid grin breaking through her indignation. Teasing him, she added, "Anyway, who says I was talking about you?"

He clutched his chest in mock offense. "Have I really been replaced in the last day? At least tell me it's not a white man. I don't know if my heart could handle it, Talia."

"You are so dramatic," she laughed, dropping her forehead into her hand. "I only dated one white dude before you, by the way. And for all I know, your type could have been the same as mine." She couldn't make his eyes out through his dark lenses, but she still found a way to stare into his soul. "Come on, don't you think I deserve to know by now?"

"I never had a type, Talia."

Her narrowed gaze did all the work for her.

"Okay, fine," he mumbled, running his fingertips running over his chin. "My eleventh-grade chemistry teacher, Miss Najjar."

"Your what?"

He tipped down his glasses, eyes narrowing. "You're telling me you completed fourteen years of school without finding one teacher attractive?"

"Yup." Liar, liar, her subconscious mocked her, as her flirtatious seventeen-year-old-self flashed before her. It wasn't her fault Mr. Meyers had only been twenty-three, and she was absolutely terrible at AP Physics. "Okay...fine. Maybe I have. But they were just...thoughts. Yeah."

"And so were mine," he murmured, tone lacking an equal amount of conviction. "Anyway, that's it."

"Oh, really," she scoffed. "I'm supposed to believe that between this teacher and me, women no longer existed for you?"

"I mean, it wasn't the best time..." She opened her mouth to retract some of her nosiness, but he surprised her. "Fine. My first girlfriend was named Rima. I met her the summer after my first year of college. The relationship lasted about eight months, and she was very much Arab. Notice a trend?"

She blinked. "She wasn't your cousin, was she?"

He whipped his head to the side. "What the fuck, Talia?"

"Just making sure," she said, holding up her palms in her defense. "Anyways, no hard feelings here, Zaid. I wish her the best, wherever she is."

"Married, actually," he said, tone softening. "Not sure to this day if she loved him or married him out of convenience. But given how terrified she was of letting her father know about us, maybe the thought isn't that far off..." He sighed, dropping his hand to the side, eyes flickering to the ocean. "I just hope the husband isn't a piece of shit, you know?"

"For what it's worth, my dad won't chase you out of the house with a shoe whenever you do meet him."

"I wonder how Fouad hasn't already done so," he laughed, pulling her to his side. She looked up and realized they had reached the end of the beach, a rippling American flag staring back at them. "I kind of like this, you know?"

"Like what?"

"No secrets," Zaid clarified. "Let's keep it that way."

"No secrets," she repeated, knowing one hung heavy on her heart, two words she'd never said out loud. Grasping his arm, she stood on her toes to reach his ear. "Well, that will only be true after I say this."

He removed his sunglasses, and Talia cursed inwardly, the eye contact shaving away some of her courage.

"Say what?"

She drew in a breath, and then the words I love you left her, at last.

Without waiting for a response, she ran into the ocean, having finally discovered something else that scared her even more.