No Picnic

Nick wiped a hand across his forehead, and somehow they each ended up wetter than they started. “How can you stand this heat?”

Izzy was leaning back on her towel, the sun falling straight onto her knees, chest, neck, and face. “What are you talking about? This is exactly what I was waiting for.”

“C’mon, it’s way hotter than yesterday,” Nick said, though as he looked around, there didn’t seem to be any fewer people than there was twenty-four hours ago. “I have to pee, but I’m afraid the sand will burn my feet off.”

“I told you to bring your sandals.”

“You shouldn’t have to wear shoes on the beach!”

Izzy sat up, pulling her sunglasses down just enough to eye him over the top. “This isn’t your first time, Nick. We come here every year.”

“Yeah, in April. Not July. In the spring, I can sit here all day and I don’t even have to reapply sunscreen. Now, I have a pool of sweat in my bellybutton deep enough to drown a seagull.”

“Then just go back inside.” The villas weren’t thirty feet from the water.

“I want to go home. I should’ve known better than to come in the first place.”

“Alright, knock it off,” Izzy said, now snatching the glasses right off her face and attracting the attention of a few of their neighbors. “You’re being a baby, and I don’t want to hear it.”

Nick petulantly shook his head.

“Besides, you know what we don’t have at home?”

“What?” he said.

“That nice open-air bar with those mango margaritas you like.”

Nick’s mouth was suddenly watering. “But I don’t have one right now, do I?”

“No, but if you can keep it together for a while longer, I can see you and me getting some of those margaritas, and maybe some apps, too. You think you’re brave enough to sit with me some more, and then walk across the hot sand for some nice drinks?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Then shut it!”