They end up losing after quite a prolonged one-cup-remaining stand-off. Sarah is proud of the fight they put up against Marcia, who she knows to be a very worthy beer pong competitor. It makes the sting of the loss a little easier to bear. The other thing easing the loss is Lucas, whose upbeat attitude is a little infectious. Besides, with each additional beer, he seems to be getting a little looser with his casual touching, too, and she’s not mad at it. But that’s beside the point. Clearly.

After beer pong, Sarah plays a game of ladder golf against a friendly guy named Lemuel. At this point, the sun is high in the sky and it’s hot enough outside that a cold beer sounds pretty good, so Sarah lets Marcia cajole her into having a couple of light beers. She’s a self-admitted lightweight but it’s not enough to make her feel uninhibited, though her insides do feel warm and more relaxed than usual.

At some point, somebody sets up a kiddie pool with a few inches of cold water from the hose. Sarah’s legs are pretty tired from that morning’s training run and her feet are even more so, especially after standing around outside all day, so after her game with Lemuel she goes over to join Jordan and Liz in sticking her feet in the water. The grass surrounding it is a little wet, which Sarah’s sure is probably creating a really attractive damp spot on the back of her jean shorts, but it’s hot enough outside that she’s also sure it’ll dry immediately.

The cold water is a shock to her system at first, but that feeling is quickly overtaken by a wave of relief. Sarah sighs, happy. “Oh, that’s great,” she breathes.

Liz smiles at her. “Remarkable how much just cooling your feet down helps out, isn’t it?”

“Definitely,” Jordan agrees. “Liz, I know I’ve said it a hundred times, but I just love that blue polish colour. It’s perfect.”

Sarah’s eyes fall to Liz’s fingernails, which are painted the same deep blue colour as her toes. It is a gorgeous blue. “Really nice,” she agrees, suddenly feeling self conscious about her bare toenails - about her feet generally, which she’s kept callused and rough for running. “I should’ve thrown on some cheap red polish or something,” she adds thoughtfully. “Next time.”

“I’ve got some blue polish in my bag,” Liz offers. “I mean, mine is shellac, but I keep a spare regular polish in a close enough colour on hand. Just to patch any fries until I can get them redone, you know.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to impose.”

“No problem,” she cuts in, dragging her feet out of the pool. She hops up and disappears into the house.

Sarah slips her feet out as well and inspects them a bit closer. She grimaces at Jordan. “I should’ve gotten a pedicure, probably.”

Jordan shrugs and smiles at her reassuringly. “It’s all good. Liz’ll fix you up. Her specialty.”

“Yes?”

She nods. “She’s been dedicated to that same polish for a few years now, knows her way around nails.”

Sarah runs her hand along the heel of her foot. “I’m training for a marathon right now and my feet are kind of vile from that,” she explains. “The calluses are good to keep for that.”

“Oh really?” Jordan asks, clearly interested. “I was thinking about doing something like that next spring. When is it?”

“Middle of August. So it’s ramping up right away. Today was a pretty light run, but my legs are still tired, somehow.” Sarah gives a soft laugh. “I might not make it to August at this rate.”

Liz returns then, holding a bottle of navy polish, a small bag, and an old towel, which she hands to Sarah. “Dry your feet,” she instructs, opening up the small bag to reveal a small manicurist’s set.

Sarah does so obediently. Liz sits down, pulls one of her feet into her lap, and begins pushing back her cuticles. There’s no way that she hadn’t very clearly noticed the rough edges of her foot, and she feels compelled to explain that the calluses are intentional.

“Oh good,” she says, relieved. “I was hoping you weren’t a barefoot lunatic like Lucas.”

Sarah laughs. She’s aware of Lucas’s dislike of shoes, even if she didn’t actually see it that often in the city. It’s just impractical. “No, I wear shoes,” she promises. “Anyway, Jordan, if you really are interested, I’d be happy to share my training plan with you.”

“Yes, that would be great,” Jordan says, nodding fervently. “I mean, I still might be too lazy, but it’s good to have all the information before I sign up for something on a whim.”

“Absolutely.” Sarah slips her phone out of her back pocket, finds the plan she’d paid for in the carefully labeled ‘fitness’ section of her inbox, and sets the email to forward. Then she hands it to Jordan. “Just toss your email in there and it should be good to go.”

“Ooh Sarah, giving out numbers?” a loud voice interrupts.

She glances up, squinting at the glare from the sun. The giant shadow moves, blocking the sun from her eyes, and she immediately recognizes Lucas.

“What?” she asks.

He sits down beside Sarah and drops his already bare feet into the kiddie pool. “Giving out numbers,” he repeats. “To Jordan! Careful Jordan, Sarah’s a high-maintenance date. She’ll make you watch a lot of Netflix and Reality TV.”

Sarah rolls her eyes and carefully withdraws her foot from Liz at her direction. One sparkly coat of blue is on, and it looks great already. “Nobody’s making you watch Reality TV, Lucas. Just admit you secretly love it.”

“Absolutely not.” Lucas leans over until his chin is nearly over Sarah’s shoulder and peers at Liz. “What’s going on here, spa day? You doing me next?”

Liz looks up and gives him a withering look. “I don’t know where those feet have been, Lucas. Never.”

“Your loss,” Lucas answers cheerfully, and wiggles his feet in the water. “These feet would be so pretty, all twinkle-toes!”

“Hmm.” Sarah looks at Jordan across the kiddie pool and barely manages to suppress a laugh.

Lucas scoops a little water with his hand and sprays it playfully in Sarah’s direction. “What’d I tell you about slandering Portsmouth, Sarah?”

“I’m not slandering Portsmouth!” she protests, raising a hand to protect herself. “I’m slandering your feet!”

“My feet are Portsmouth, Sarah.”

“That doesn’t even make sense, Lucas - eek!” she squeals, as he sprays an even larger bit of water at her.

“Lucas,” Liz cuts in sharply, clutching Sarah’s foot tighter to immobilize it. “Do not interrupt my work. You can wait ten more minutes to flirt, can’t you?”

Sarah presses her lips together, fighting a smile despite the flush she knows has reached her cheeks. She manages a side glance at Lucas and is surprised to see that he doesn’t look embarrassed at all.

“Yes, I can wait ten minutes.” Lucas taps the back of her hand with his wet fingers. “Come find me when the spa’s closed, Dalton,” he tells her, then hops to his feet and is gone.

Sarah worries for a moment that Liz or Jordan is going to press her about the whole lot of nothing that’s going on between her and Lucas, but Liz snaps her fingers and announces, “Alright girl, second coat.”

Sarah intends to look for Lucas after her toes are painted, she really does, but Marcia finds her first. She’s holding two plastic cups and is wearing a big grin. “Sarah!” she says excitedly. “Margarita time! And soon hot dogs!”

“Margarita, huh?” Sarah sniffs the drink, then takes a small sip. “Oh Marcia, this tastes really good.”

“Jevon mixed it,” Marcia says. “He has a crazy alcohol selection.” She sways a little on the spot to the song that’s playing from the Bluetooth speaker that’s set up by the fire pit, then waggles her eyebrows at Sarah. “So, you and ol’ blue eyes, hmmm?”

Sarah scoffs and shakes her head, but she gets where Marcia’s coming from. Based on today - and okay, on the past couple of weeks, where it seems like just maybe Lucas didn’t always need to touch her as much as he had - it does seem like things might be shifting, slightly. But that’s just to the untrained eye - Marcia doesn’t know Lucas that well. He’s just an affectionate guy who cares about his friends.

Right?

A sudden wave of anxiety-induced nausea overtakes her, and Sarah swallows hard. What a lunatic, of course it’s all in her head. What is she even doing?

Marcia sips her drink and gives an exaggerated shrug. “Oh Sarah,” she says. “He’s definitely into you, I promise.”

“Shh,” Sarah hisses. The last thing she needs is for any of Lucas’s friends to overhear; how pathetic would that be?

“Fine, I’ll drop it,” Marcia acquiesces. “But down the hatch with that drink, girl. Get out of your own head.”

Sarah obediently takes another sip. She’s willing to indulge a little more than usual today, but she’s still pacing herself; she doesn’t think her liver will suddenly understand the concept of living in the moment.

“Good girl,” Marcia praises. She tilts Sarah’s shoulders toward the beer pong table, where she spots Lucas once again providing a faux-sports announcer’s commentary on a game. “I need to use the bathroom. Now go be social!”

Sarah flashes a half-hearted warning look at Marcia, but hey, Lucas had told her to come find him. So she approaches, her newly-painted feet brushing against the soft grass, and stands a couple of feet away from him near the table.

“Who’s winning?” she asks, more as a means to announce her presence. It’s clear that Hamil is absolutely destroying Lemuel.

Lucas turns around. “Sarah!” he exclaims, clearly a bit intoxicated. He reaches out with one long arm and beckons her to come closer. “Come here, get right on the fifty-yard line,” he instructs, tugging her just in front of him to the middle of the board. He sets a hand on her shoulder. “Hamil is wiping the floor with Gee. Just a complete annihilation.”

“It’s not over yet, Lucas,” Lemuel says, a hint of annoyance in his voice. “You have to believe.”

“Right. Sorry, sorry,” Lucas apologizes. “You got this, buddy! I believe!” He lifts his hand from Sarah’s shoulder and holds it up in exaggerated surrender, then drops it to her waist and squeezes gently. “Right, Sarah?”

Sarah nods and smiles at Lemuel. “A comeback is definitely on the horizon,” she assures him.

“As if,” Hamil scoffs, lining up a shot. “I’m about to end this man.”

“He shoots -” Lucas says in a loud tone, halting to watch Hamil throw the ball. “-oh! And he misses! This is it, Gee, this is your moment!”

Sarah watches Lemuel walk a few feet behind the table to retrieve the ball from the grass. “Maybe it really is a comeback,” she muses.

As her eyes follow Lemuel, two fingers tap her hip. Sarah glances up and sees Lucas smiling down at her. “Hey,” he says, his voice suddenly quiet. His curls are beginning to escape from beneath his ball cap, she notices. “Your toes look nice.”

“Thanks,” she says, the corners of her lips turning up. Come on Sarah, she thinks. Live in the moment. She turns her gaze back to the table and shifts her weight backward, just a little, testing the waters.

He doesn’t move at first, and Sarah is immediately convinced that either she’s misread the entire situation, or she’d been too subtle - which is a possibility with Lucas, for whom subtlety doesn’t seem to be popular. But then one beat later, Lucas’s hand shifts on her hip: his thumb slips through the empty belt loop of her shorts and the rest of his fingers curl to rest against the denim. His feet don’t move, but he seems to have swayed forward - that, or she’s so aware of his presence that it feels like his chest is almost flush against her back. She’s reminded for the millionth time that he’s ridiculously tall.

Lemuel scores against Hamil. This time, Lucas doesn’t fist-pump. Instead, he raises his left arm and beer bottle upward and lets out a “Whoop!” keeping his other arm where it is. She presumes it’s part of some kind of exaggerated toast, but she likes to think that just maybe it’s because he doesn’t want to let go.

“Come on, one of you hurry up and lose,” Liz calls from his perch by the kiddie pool. “I was promised hot dogs like twenty minutes ago.”