On a particularly hot weekend, after it had become official that Sean and Leslie were the new couple, he brought her to the beach and hung out with us. That wasn't his first attempt of trying to introduce Leslie to us, but I thought Leslie just wasn't very friendly and didn't make an effort to fit in with his friends.

Sean said I judged people too quickly and that I was annoying with my constant psychoanalyzing, which I had to agree. I reminded myself to keep an open mind and put aside my loyalty for Flora, who showed up in a white bikini, looking like she was here for a photo shoot.

"Gucci says hi," she told me, fingering the little bits of bamboo embellishments in the shoulder string. I had a pretty good idea about who it was for.

"New bikini?"

"Yup." She lay down and stretched herself lazily across the beach towel. Her gaze didn't stay very long on my face. I turned my head slightly and saw Sean taking off his shirt.

How tragic. Flora was as transparent as cellophane, and I didn't have the heart to tell her it was never going to work. Whatever lingering feelings he might still have for her, he'd blame it on the bikini and dismiss it as physical attraction, then he'd turn around and converse with Leslie as they connected on a spiritual level.

I hated to be right, but Sean didn't say one word to Flora or so much as glanced in her direction. He was too busy worrying about whether the sun was too bright for Leslie's taste, who was wearing a pair of extra-large sunglasses and an enormous straw hat to shield herself from the UV rays, along with a long-sleeved plaid shirt and a pair of shorts.

Sandra looked like she wanted to make a snide comment, but she bit it back and turned to me. She gasped. "Janet, what in the world are you wearing?"

"These?" I looked down at my feet. "What's wrong with wearing Crocs to the beach? They're waterproof and comfy."

"I'm sorry, but I can't be friends with people who wear Crocs. They're so hideous it's not even funny."

"Seriously?" I turned to Flora for support, who shrugged and giggled.

"Sorry, Jan. She's right. You can't wear Crocs unless you're a doctor. They only go with scrubs."

Beside me I could hear Sean and Leslie talking softly. He was asking her if she wanted to swim, and she shook her head quickly.

"Do you mind if I go? I'll be right back." There was hesitancy in his voice, as if he was worried we would eat her alive if he wasn't here to protect her.

"Go ahead, Sean," Carmen called out. "We'll take care of your girlfriend."

"You're in the way of girl-talk," Sandra said. All the other guys were in the water already.

He looked at Leslie, silently asking for permission, and she finally gave a nod. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. He smiled at her before he took off.

I could see Flora's face fell. She seemed to go through some inner turmoil, then she exhaled as if deciding she would be brave. She put on a bright Flora-style smile, like she was starring in a toothpaste commercial. "Leslie, aren't you hot? I'm sweating!"

"I'm sweating just looking at you," Sandra added.

"I'm okay," Leslie said, adjusting the straw hat on her head.

"You can borrow my extra potent sunscreen," Flora said. "This is imported from Japan and very expensive, so it should be effective. Here, try it out." She held out a delicate white tube.

"Thanks, but I already have sunscreen on."

"Then lose the shirt, seriously," Sandra said. "I'm starting to get a fever."

Leslie moved away a little from Sandra and closer to Carmen. Her survival instinct were kicking in. "It's just that I burn really easily."

"Are you related to Edward Cullen?" Flora asked. She watched Leslie expectantly, waiting for her to laugh.

When Leslie didn't answer, I opened my mouth. "Edward Cullen is a vampire. In Twilight," I explained. "But for the record, his skin sparkles when exposed to sun. He doesn't burn."

"Oh, he burns me." Flora laughed.

"I thought you liked werewolves better," Sandra said. "Vampires are a little too pale for you."

Flora nodded. "Yeah, I'm definitely Team Werewolf. They look like they'd be better at sex."

"Necrophilia against bestiality," I said. "Always a tough choice."

"I'm sorry. I don't watch Twilight," Leslie said.

"It's okay. We get it that you have more sensitive skin," Carmen said in her gentle voice, pushing up her sunglasses. "I don't like the sun too much either because it gives me freckles."

"Lucia is a redhead too but it doesn't seem to bother her," Sandra said.

Leslie didn't reply to that.

For a few seconds all I could hear was the sound of the waves crashing against the sand. The uncomfortable silence was stifling, harder to ignore than the sweltering heat, like sitting in a sauna.

Flora was the first to break the silence. "So, Leslie, we heard that you're a really good violinist. So whose music do you like to play?"

"Do you have a favorite musician?" Carmen asked.

"I like Tchaikovsky and Paganini."

"Paganini sounds tasty," Flora said. Leslie turned her head to look at her but said nothing. It was a good thing we couldn't see her eyes behind the sunglasses; I didn't think there were anything good to find.

"Sorry, bad joke." Flora chuckled. She sounded embarrassed, which was rare because she was almost never self-conscious. "Do you play in the school orchestra?"

"Leslie is a professional," I said. "The school orchestra is too easy for her."

Leslie shrugged. "I suppose the school orchestra is somewhere to start if you want to learn music, but I just practice by myself."

"Does it ever get boring? I mean, what do you think about when you practice?" Flora kept up her interview. It was her mission in life to eliminate all lulls in conversations.

"I don't think about anything."

"There is never a moment in life where I think of nothing," Flora said. "I'm always thinking of something."

"Really? I thought thinking was the one thing you didn't do," Sandra said and Flora kicked sand at her. Sandra let out a little yelp and threw back a fistful of sand on Flora's legs. Leslie stared far off into the ocean.

"Do you listen to contemporary music?" I asked her.

Leslie thought for a while, then finally said, "I don't really have time to listen to any pop songs. Maybe you guys can give me an idea on where to start."

A somewhat encouraging reply was all Flora needed. She perked up instantly. "Of course! You should start with none other than our famous home brand Janet Wilson. She has an indie rock band and they're disturbingly good."

"I think it's cute that you have your own band." Leslie nodded at me..

Cute? I wondered if she'd like it if I said it's cute that she played violin. She made it sound like I was five and hitting on pots with a spoon.

Carmen stretched her legs and started to add another layer of sunscreen. "Janet has way more talent than a lot of the artist on the market. Her band is called fishnets. You really should give her a listen."

"Okay. That should be...entertaining," Leslie chose her words carefully, finally deciding on an adjective that seemed positive yet showed the exact opposite effect. "None of that heavy metal stuff, I hope."

That did not sound condescending. I gripped myself on the shoulders mentally and willed myself to believe it. I felt like she just crushed something precious in me before acting as if she stepped on a piece of gum.

She looked down on my band with her arrogant musician's pride like we didn't count as music. It annoyed me the way it always did when people praised Beethoven and bashed The Doors.

"Do you know there are many rock subgenres?" I took it upon myself to educate her, but Flora patted me on the shoulder.

"Wait, hold that thought," she said, sitting up straighter. "Something more important just came up. Look, they get their slow motion entrance!"

We followed her gaze and saw a group of surfers emerge from the water. They were total hunks. She was referring to the fact that whenever hot people appear on the screen in comedies, it always turns to slow motion.

"I'm glad I wore my metallic gold bikini today." Sandra propped herself on her elbows to get a better view. "Eating only chocolates and black coffee for a week really helps."

"I'm surprised you survived," Carmen said. "How does it work?"

"Well, the caffeine gives me the energy I need, and the coco oil keeps me from drying up. You should totally try, Carmen. Losing a few pounds will work you wonders," Sandra explained, then she turned her attention back to the beachfront. "Look, the one on the left. He's a nine."

"I can't rate them when there're at least 32 packs of abs staring back at me," Flora said in her usual boy-crazy way. "My ovaries are in pain."

We giggled and took turns giving them scores. Rarely did we find ourselves in a situation where much debate was needed. Most of the time a hot guy was accompanied by some of his mediocre friends, but this gang had the potential to be a boy band.

At this moment Leslie spoke up voluntarily for the very first time. "Janet, don't you have a boyfriend?" It was as if she caught me frenching the guys.

"Yes I do, and?" I didn't bother to hide my irritation. Sandra had a boyfriend too but even Leslie knew not to mess with her.

"Nothing," Leslie said quickly, but not quick enough to stop from adding another layer of tension to our lovely girl talk session.

"Janet's boyfriend is a doctor," Flora said enthusiastically. I couldn't tell if she was trying to make something good out of this topic, or she was just oblivious. "Well, premed, to be exact, but he'll get there eventually, which makes him an automatic ten. By the way Leslie, you haven't voiced your opinion yet. I want to know which of these guys you find the best-looking."

"I'm curious too," Carmen chipped in.

Flora's eyes danced. "If you tell me Sean is hotter than all of them, I'm going to go right off to the ocean and drown myself."

We giggled. Flora was very cool for an ex-girlfriend, and for a while the atmosphere relaxed a little, like a rubber band which lost the ability to contract after being stretched for too long.

Leslie pulled her plaid shirt tighter, then she tucked a strand of loose hair behind her ears. She looked flustered. "I don't want to play this game," she muttered and glanced away.

Sandra shrugged and lay back down on her beach towel. If we couldn't bond over hot surfers, we were never going to bond.

Jake came back first. He wrapped a towel around his shoulders and sat down next to Leslie. Sandra and Carmen had started flipping through a magazine together, already losing interest in being nice.

Let's see you try, Jake. I watched them with mild anticipation.

Jake randomly tossed out a few topics ranging from camping to cycling to cafeteria food and whether he should buy a Jeep, and if so what color he should get. Leslie gave him single syllable replies. It was almost comical. Jake thought he was as smooth as James Bond, but clearly this was the episode where he got shot down by North Korean terrorists.

"No offense, Leslie, but you're really quiet," Jake said, claiming defeat. "I'm really curious. Between you and Sean, who does most of the talking?"

"We don't need to talk all the time," Leslie replied tightly.

"Oh. Oh..." A wide grin spread across Jake's face slowly. "I get it."

Leslie blushed, but it was an angry blush. "It's not what you're thinking. Sean isn't like you."

Jake grinned. "What am I like?"

"You're a player."

"A player?" He laughed. "Yeah, I've heard that a few times, but I've always wondered what that means."

"You pretend to care about girls but all you want is sex," Leslie said with a hint of accusation. I didn't know why Sean would be worried about us scaring her. The girl could hold her own alright.

Jake stroked his chin. "Well, the second part is true," he said slowly, "but I never pretend to care. In fact, I'm very upfront about my desires. It's my life goal to hook up like a gentleman."

Behind them Flora burst into laughter. "What does that mean? You get up to open the door for her when you finish having sex?"

"It means sticking by my belief and not feel ashamed about my lifestyle choices. I embrace my sexuality and I'm not afraid to say it. The whole thing is under mutual consent and it's conducted in a professional manner."

Leslie stared at him with open disgust on her face. I bet she was thinking what Jake's parents did to him.

"Jake, do you have a business card? I'll help you spread the word if any of my friends are interested in your services," Flora said.

Jake grinned and lay a hand across his chest. "Really, Flora? You would do that for me?"

"Of course. I understand how hard it is to start a business in the beginning."

He stood up, seeming glad that Flora offered him a chance to get out of conversation with Leslie. "Who wants to play beach volleyball?"

Flora jumped up right away. "I'm in! On one condition." She grabbed hold of Jake's forearm and directed him to look at the boy band we just rated. "Can you ask them if they want to join us?"

"Flora, haven't you heard? I'm a player, not a pimp. Do your flirting yourself."

"Fine." Flora narrowed her eyes with determination and put on a cute pout before she sauntered off. Her dark hair flew in the wind and she looked alluring, adorned in her white Gucci bikini. I could see her gesturing animatedly in a distance. By then Sean, Dylan, and Alan had come back, and Sean immediately went to check on Leslie. He was glad she still had all her fingers left as if the rest of us were prone to cannibalism.

I glanced from Flora, walking back triumphantly with her game of the day, to Leslie, huddled on the beach in her shell of indifference, and wondered how Sean could go from that to that. He was clearly going through some sort of teenage life crisis.

I had watched enough cheesy teen flicks to know that Flora would be automatically portrayed as the villain just because she was popular, and somehow Leslie with her quiet, classy demeanor would be true love. In movies they always glorify the kind of love that makes you feel like sinking into a warm bath instead of like riding a roller-coaster, and I felt bad for Flora because Sean was an idiot.

Before the game started, Leslie said that she wanted to sit out. I knew Sean wasn't comfortable letting her sit in the sand alone, so he quit the game to keep her company. Not very long afterwards they left.

We played on.

"I think being with her is really bad for his health," Flora said. "He has gone from boring to drab and it's so depressing to watch them. I just want to poke a hole in her cocoon."

"You tried," I said.

"I think she hates me," Dylan overheard us and said before serving the ball. "I said 'I thought you only date hot cheerleaders' to Sean and I think she caught me."

"Thank you for your loyalty, Dylan." Flora hit the ball across the net forcefully, like sending a message. That was the end of us ever trying to be nice to Leslie again.

***

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