Page 90 of The Villain

I did, and that made absolutely no sense. “I guess so.”

He laughed as we floated on the surface of the water together. Sometimes he’d press kisses to my nose, my lips, my eyelids. I kissed him back, thankful that the cold water prevented me from getting anything more than a half-chub. I didn’t need to flash any beachgoers in these too-tight swim shorts.

“Hey Cian?”

“Yeah?” His head tilted as he watched a seagull fly overhead.

“I won’t let go either.”

His gaze met mine. Then he wrapped his arms around me and held me close while I buried my face in his neck. “I know,” he said against the shell of my ear. “Nothing separates us.”

We laughed and floated and hopped waves until my fingers resembled prunes. Cian carried me closer to shore, finally setting me down when the water reached hip-height.

“Therapy and swim lessons,” he said more to himself than me as we walked back to our chairs. “We’ll work on that.”

“Where the hell can I take swim lessons at my age?” I asked. “I’d feel ridiculous.”

He reached into the tote bag. “I’ll build a pool in the backyard and teach you myself.”

“That’s… unnecessary.”

“I’ll decide what’s unnecessary.” He pulled out the sunscreen. “Time to reapply.”

I still wasn’t over the whole building a pool thing, but he’d clearly moved on.

I propped my hands on my hips. “Are you serious?”

“You’re already getting pink, because you’re a pale Irish bastard.”

“You’re Irish, too,” I scoffed.

“I’m not a freckled redhead.”

I rolled my eyes, then I held my breath while he sprayed me down again. But inside my stomach fluttered at his care and attention. Like I was just a kid with a crush.

Back in our chairs, I fell asleep again while the sun continued its arc across the sky. Cian walked away at one point, after a grunt to stay put, before returning twenty minutes later with a large pizza box. I scarfed down the greasy slices like I hadn’t eaten in weeks. When a seagull lurked nearby, I tore off a piece of crust for it.

“Don’t,” Cian barked as he slashed an arm across my chest, as if I’d almost walked into traffic.

I stared at him. “Overreaction, much?”

He jabbed a finger at me. “Don’t feed the fucking seagulls.”

“Why?”

“Because you feed one, and they tell all their little buddies. Then suddenly you’re surrounded by an entire swarm of fucking birds who shit all over your stuff.”

“That’s an intense escalation.”

“I mean it, Dev. Don’t. I’m not shampooing seagull shit out of your hair later.”

I stuffed the crust into my mouth as the bird stared at me with its beady black eyes. “Sorry. Dad said no.”

Cian snorted, and the seagull ruffled its feathers in response.

Later, when the sun had started to drop behind us, I heard a chorus of squawks followed by both a masculine holler and a feminine cry. I turned to watch at least a dozen seagulls surround a blanket where a family of four cowered. One kid was crying. The other was tossing French fries into the sand with abandon while his father shouted at him to stop. Seagulls circled in the air, nearly blotting out the sun. Feathers floated down from the sky. The sand was teeming with bird bodies as they allfought over fried potatoes. The scene was like something out of a horror movie.

“See?” Cian murmured in my ear, a smile in his voice. “That’swhy you don’t feed the fucking seagulls.”