"So, Ty, got any ideas for hanging out?" Holly asked as I lounged on the couch. I scrolled through my phone, shrugging. "Nothing new. We could hit the mall again, but the movie listings haven’t changed. And the jazz club’s out—I haven’t saved enough yet." "How about the beach?" Holly stood up, stretching. "It’s still hot out." "The beach? Really?" I blinked, surprised. "Yeah. What’s wrong with that?" She shot me an annoyed look. "Nothing, just didn’t peg you as a beach person," I admitted, rubbing my head. "That’s rich coming from you," she teased. "You’re pale as Casper. Meanwhile, I love a good swim." "Sure," I said, still skeptical. "You don’t believe me?" She crossed her arms—all four of them—and before I could reply, she stormed out. "Shit, I pissed her off." For the next half-hour, I wracked my brain for an apology—until Holly suddenly barged back in, stopping right in front of me. "Hey Ty, your dad’s not home, right?" she asked before I could speak. "N-no, he won’t be back till late," I stammered, uneasy. With a confident laugh, she stripped off her t-shirt and shorts, revealing a bikini so tight my eyes nearly popped out. "Well, Mr. Unbeliever?" She smirked. "Still think I wouldn’t look good on the beach?" I gulped, unable to look away. "Guess I’d better grab my swimsuit and umbrella." "That's the spirit," Holly replied, smiling triumphantly.