he pair of us are silent as we walk across the sand. I can't help but smile, because this little stretch of beach has never looked better than it does in this moment.

The sun sits high in a blue, cloudless sky. It's quiet for the most part, save for the sound of the odd seagull chirping or waves lightly crashing on the rocks. When I turn to face Jordan, he's thoroughly impressed.

"Don't tell me you've got your own private beach," he says.

I flash him a smile. "It's technically not mine, but it might as well be. No one else knows it's here."

I don't wait for a response. I'm too busy undoing the laces of my trainers, desperate to get into the water. Jordan watches for a moment before taking off his own, then waits to see what I'll do next.

The sand feels warm and soft beneath my feet. I dig my toes into the layer underneath, until my feet are fully submerged. It's like this place has the power to turn me into a kid again.

I pull two towels from my bag and lay them flat on the ground. Then, with a quick look at Jordan, I peel off my clothes until I'm standing in my bikini. His eyes travel down me, taking in my bikini top before moving to my stomach. His eyes widen slightly as they drop even further, skimming my thighs before landing at my feet.

I raise an eyebrow. "That's considered rude here, Chicago."

His eyes dart back up until they're meeting my own. He flashes a devious grin. "I was admiring your bikini," he says, the picture of innocence. "Made on the island?"

I put my hands on my hips and shoot him a withering look. "Yes, now hurry up and strip." I glance at his t-shirt. My heart does a flip when I imagine his body beneath it.

Jordan frowns and looks at the water. "I'm not going swimming. I don't have my trunks."

I can't help but laugh at how modest he sounds. The locals here wouldn't think twice about swimming in just their underwear, so long as they get to swim. "Don't be such a baby," I say. "Or, do be a baby if you want to. I'm going swimming." I turn back around without waiting for a reply and start walking.

I wade into the water until it's lapping up my ankles. It travels up my legs and thighs, tickling my stomach and chest until I'm fully submerged. Then I tilt my head back, sinking into its warmth.

It's not long before I hear splashing. I open my eyes to see a shirtless Jordan wading toward me, his golden skin even more bronzed in the sunlight. His shoulders are broad, hard, and muscled in a way that is only achieved by hitting the gym. His torso is the same, lean and defined, with a thin trail of hair that travels down the middle and dips below the water.

"My eyes are up here, Evvy."

My gaze darts back up to find his own on my cleavage. "So are mine, Jordan."

He grins before ducking below the water to swim a few laps. I stand back and watch him, able to see every inch of him move through the pale, clear water. He doesn't have any finesse about him–his legs kick so wildly that he's scaring away the fish–but I can't help but smile at his effort. For a city boy, he's not so bad.

He suddenly breaks the surface in front of me. Drops of water fall from his hair, rolling down his cheeks and chin before landing on his chest. He grins again and uses one hand to quickly wipe them off.

"So," he says, scanning the horizon. "This is where you come when you're not busy scheming?" He turns back to face me, and I realize his hair looks much lighter in the sunlight, more like liquid chocolate.

"Sometimes," I say coyly. "It was my mom who first showed me this place. Now whenever I feel like I want to get away, I just come here."

He studies me for a moment longer, watching the ends of my hair as they swirl in the water. "You're really the only one who knows about this place?"

"Yep, which is why it's so beautiful. It hasn't been ruined by tourists and beach parties. This is what the main beach used to look like when I was little, before everything changed."

Jordan looks into the distance like he's scared to meet my gaze. "That why you don't want anyone buying the Big Fish? Because you don't know what it will turn into?"

"Oh, I do," I say, my chest tightening. "If you sell it to the wrong person, it'll be turned into a bar or a club, something that will change the type of tourists we get. Then the owners will target the stores either side of it until they've monopolized the whole strip."

Jordan frowns. "How do you know, though?"

"Because they tried to before. A fancy businessman called Landon Rivers came from the mainland and showed the island his boss's proposals to turn this place into a party resort, but they couldn't buy enough of the locals off for it to work. Ever since then they've just been waiting for their opportunity. As soon as they can own at least one property, they've got their foot in the door."

Jordan nods but doesn't say anything, and I don't want to push him just yet. Right now, my best bet is to show off this island in the hopes that he'll want to protect it. So, instead of worrying, I splash him. His gaze turns mischievous, and he lunges for me through the water. His arms grab my waist and pull me toward him. I flail a little, splashing his face in a bid to escape, but he pulls us underwater.

I open my eyes and watch him through a pale blue lens. His eyes watch me back, dark and curious as they take in my waves of dark hair. His gaze falls lower. All around us are tiny white fish that dance along the seabed. Surprised, Jordan moves his hand a little, causing them to scatter.

Bubbles escape my lips as we both break the surface. He grabs me again, forcing me to let out the kind of laugh that I haven't heard in a while; a genuine one. I tickle his armpit and he lets out a yelp before pinning my arms to my sides. I laugh even harder, and for a moment, I forget; I forget that I'm supposed to be hating him.

His hands move from my arms to my legs, pulling me closer. I wrap them around him, peering down at his face as he stares up at mine. This suddenly feels less playful and a whole lot more intimate, so I lightly splash his face.

"You remind me of a mermaid," he says. "I can just imagine you floating around on this beach all by yourself." He grins as he says it, and I hate that my stomach fills with warmth at the sight of it.

"Is that a compliment or an insult?" I ask, because coming from him, it's hard to tell.

He laughs a little. "Neither, just stating a fact."

His hands tighten around my thighs. That electricity is back, turning and fizzling like sparks between us. He leans in closer, his eyes dark and hooded like he's thinking about kissing me, and if I don't do something, I'll let him.

"We should probably get going," I say, breaking from his grip. I glance at the sky, which has already started to darken. "There's supposed to be a thunderstorm in an hour."

He looks at me for a second longer. Then, with a brief nod, we both wade back to the shore. We dry ourselves off and get dressed before grabbing our bikes.

The whole ride back, my heart is pounding. I keep glancing at Jordan, noticing the way his bottom lip pouts, and it is driving me crazy. I shake away the thought and grip my handlebars tighter. I do not like Jordan.

I can't.

I do.