But it wasn’t Kennedy’s voice. It was Brody.

6

“OPEN YOUR EYE,” BRODY SAID.

“I can’t.” I was almost sobbing.

“Noah,” Brody said, “kneel here in front of her so the glare from the beach isn’t in her eyes. Will, pour some water on my hand.”

“It’s not sterile,” Kennedy pointed out from a distance.

“It’s a beach,” Brody said, sounding irritated. “Nothing is sterile. At least get the sand off.”

I heard water hiss in the sand and tried to be patient. So much moisture was coming out of my eyes that the contact should have washed out already, but I could feel it still lodged somewhere it should never have gone.

His hands were on my face again. He pulled at my eye. He was closer to me than he’d ever been, his skin only an inch from mine, but I couldn’t enjoy it with all these guys watching us and my eye falling out. “Harper, relax,” he said.

Relax? Impossible. I had a boyfriend and a crush on another guy. I’d given myself a mini-makeover to impress my crush, and now he was trying to help me through my mortifying comeuppance, my punishment for trying to attract him. I felt like a spy who had to stay undercover after she’d been shot.

I sucked in another deep breath, counted to five in my head, and exhaled. I relaxed under Brody’s hands.

He opened my eye. The huge blur of his finger came at my eyeball, but I managed not to flinch as he manipulated the contact. And suddenly—ahhh. My eye still stung, but I could tell the contact was back in place.

“Thank you so much,” I said, cupping one hand over my eye. I kept the other shut too, because that felt better. I couldn’t see Brody in front of me, but I felt his warmth there. I said, “It was burrowing into my sinuses and wanted to come out my nose. Is it supposed to do that?”

“No,” he said. “You must have rubbed it really hard. Maybe you should take it out.”

“I wouldn’t have anywhere to put it.”

“You’re supposed to carry a small bottle of contact solution with you everywhere,” he said, “and a contact case, and a spare pair of glasses.”

“Do you carry all that stuff?” I asked.

“No, I’m a guy. Are your contacts expensive? Maybe you should just throw it away.”

“They’re expensive,” I said, “and I can’t see without them, and I have to drive home.”

“I could drive you home,” he offered.

“Did you get it?” Kennedy called from behind Brody—still several towels away. He hadn’t bothered to come any closer to help.

Maybe he wasn’t even asking about my contact. The film conversation had continued despite my medical emergency. He could have been asking Quinn if he’d gotten a ticket to next week’s indie. At any rate, Brody ignored Kennedy. He asked me quietly, “Did you bring sunglasses?”

“I don’t have any,” I said sheepishly. “I couldn’t wear them before because I’ve always worn glasses.”

“Contacts make the glare worse, so sunglasses are more important. You can have mine.” He pulled up my free hand and gave me what I assumed were his sunglasses.

“No, you need them.”

“I’ve got another pair in my truck.” I heard him rattling the ice in the chest again. “Lie down.”

His voice had a bossy edge. I kind of liked it. I did what he said and lay down on the towel.

He handed me a cold, wet bundle. “Press this to your eye, but not hard. Take a time-out. You’ll feel better in a minute. Your eye will re-lubricate or whatever.”

“Thank you.”

I lay on my tummy in the hot shade, breathing deeply and evenly, willing my eye to feel better. The boys were talking about TV shows now and had obviously forgotten I was there, because they were repeating the kind of jokes boys didn’t usually tell when they knew girls were listening. I didn’t hear Brody’s voice, but I assumed he’d moved back into the group with the rest of them.

Then a warm, comforting hand settled on my back. My mind spun with who would be so kind to me. Definitely not Kennedy. Possibly Quinn or Noah. They could get away with it because Kennedy would have no reason to be jealous. Probably Brody, and then Kennedy would be jealous. Or should be. Maybe Kennedy couldn’t see his hand on me.

I tried to enjoy the camaraderie, but I couldn’t stand the suspense any longer. I lifted my head and squinted across my body with my good eye.

It was the dog, lying right beside me with her chin on my back. Now that I knew it was her face and not a boy’s hand, I recognized the feel of her hair and the trickle of her slobber.

I put my own head back down.

After a few minutes, the guys’ voices moved away one by one. I heard them shouting out in the water. Only Kennedy and Quinn were left, making fun of Mr. Oakley, which I kind of resented because I liked Mr. Oakley. When I’d told him I wanted a press pass to photograph the football games, he’d set out to give me a football lesson rather than rolling his eyes like Kennedy had. I felt so distanced from the fun I’d come here to have, wrapped up in my own resentment and pain, that I almost jumped when Kennedy spoke just above me. “Harper, are you okay?”

“I’m better,” I said without moving. I am shocked that you give a shit, I thought.

“We’re going to the snack bar,” he said. “Want anything?”

“No, thanks,” I said.