“I forgot,” he said, his voice a low grumble.

“You’re going to get dehydrated. When you work in heat like this, you need to make sure you stay hydrated so you don’t get heatstroke.” She took back the glass. “I’ll get you some more of this.”

“I’m not thirsty.”

She had no idea what to say. Not when he’d sounded so...churlish.

Though his attitude did give her an excuse to use that word.

“The grass looks nice.” Okay, that had been lame, but at least she was trying. Giving him that chance she’d talked herself into.

His answer? A shrug.

Had she really thought he was nice?

Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. Trying to engage him socially. She should have stuck with her instincts, the ones telling her they were from two different worlds. But something told her he had a reason for not acting like himself.

She pursed her lips. Narrowed her eyes and studied him. She was used to boys and their sulks. Her brothers’ moods tended to shift dramatically from hour to hour, situation to situation. But she didn’t like thinking Luke was like that. Didn’t want him to pout when he was upset or throw things when he was mad.

Well, she thought in exasperation, what did she want? For the boy to be a robot, humorless and emotionless? Jeez. Talk about unfair. Why couldn’t she give him the same chance she gave everyone else? No judgment. No snap decisions.

Why was she still letting Andrew and what he’d done to her control her thoughts? Guide her choices?

“Have you started the AP English work yet?” she asked. The other day they’d talked about the reading they needed to do over the summer for their advanced-placement class.

Staring somewhere over her shoulder—she guessed, it was hard to tell with those sunglasses—Luke shook his head.

She chewed on the inside of her cheek. “Your neck is getting red,” she blurted. “I’ll get you some sunscreen.”

“I don’t want it.”

She blinked. Not because he didn’t want to protect himself from possible skin cancer, but because his voice had been so rough. So angry. “Late afternoon is the part of the day when the sun’s rays are strongest,” she told him. “You need to apply sunscreen and reapply it after swimming or sweating.” Which he was doing. Profusely. “Even though we’re young, we can’t ignore the statistics about skin cancer and how to prevent it. At the very least, you’ll be saving yourself from a painful night battling sunburn.”

He clenched his jaw. “I said I don’t want it.”

Her head snapped back at his harsh tone. But she lifted her chin. Kept her own tone cool. “Fine. Then I’ll just let you get back to work.”

She turned on her heel. Heard him mutter an expletive under his breath but didn’t stop, just walked in calm, measured steps back toward the house.

“Gracie,” he called. “Wait.”

She shouldn’t. She owed him nothing. He was the one always talking to her, trying to engage her in conversation, telling jokes and asking questions. All she’d done was be nice back.

But when he caught up to her, gently touched her arm and said “please,” his voice low and gruff, she couldn’t do anything but stop.

He took his hat off, hit it against the side of his leg. “I’m in a rotten mood, and I’m taking it out on you, which is just stupid. I’m sorry. Really.”

She wanted to believe him. Guess they were both stupid. “You don’t have to say that,” she told him. “I’m not going to tell Fay or anything.”

He frowned. “I’m not apologizing so I don’t get in trouble, Gracie,” he said quietly. “I’m apologizing because I was acting like an ass.”

She swallowed. “Oh. Well.” She didn’t know what to do with her hands. She wanted to cross her arms, but she still held the glass with the quickly melting ice. “It’s okay. We all have bad days, right?”

He laughed, but the sound held no humor. “Right. Thanks. It’s just...” He shook his head, took off his glasses and wiped the sweat from his forehead with the bottom of his shirt.

She was so mesmerized by the ridges of his exposed stomach that he was already putting his sunglasses back on before she noticed the bruise. “Oh my God,” she breathed, tugging the hand with the sunglasses down. “Are you all right?”

“It’s not as bad as it looks.”

“Thank goodness, because it looks really, really bad.” His eye was swollen almost shut, the skin around it a dark purple. “What happened? You don’t have to tell me,” she added quickly when he averted his gaze. “Unless...did your dad hit you? Because if he did, we have to tell social services and the police.”

His lips twitched, as if he was fighting a smile. “My dad didn’t hit me. It was nothing like that.”

“Oh, well, that’s good. I’m sorry if I offended you—or your dad, who I’m sure is a very nice man. It’s just I watched this fascinating documentary last week about domestic violence, and most people still believe it’s a problem only for those with lower incomes, so I didn’t want to assume that your family could be immune to it. Not that I’m assuming your dad is the kind of person to hit his family or anything, either.”

She caught her breath. Most people interrupted her, but Luke waited her out. It was nice, knowing he was listening. That he didn’t want her to just be quiet already.

“My dad is a nice guy,” Luke assured her. “He’d never hit me or my mom. Or anyone.” He gestured to his black eye. “Drew gave me this.”

“Andrew?” That didn’t make sense. “It must have been an accident. During football practice or something?”

Luke hooked his sunglasses on the collar of his T-shirt. “Not during practice and not an accident. He punched me.”

“Why would he do such a thing?”

Another shrug, this one irritable. “Probably because I punched him first.” As if reliving the memory, he flexed and straightened the fingers of his right hand. “Broke his nose.”

“You... Why...?” She couldn’t believe it. Couldn’t even imagine them fighting like that. “Is he all right?”

Luke’s good eye narrowed. “He’s great. Why shouldn’t he be? He’s screwing my girlfriend, after all. I mean, my ex-girlfriend.”

Gracie went cold all over. Which was so weird, considering the sweat forming between her breasts, the sun burning her forearms and shoulders. “Andrew and...Kennedy?” She shook her head. “No. No, he wouldn’t do that.”

“He would and he did.” Luke shoved a hand through his hair, then put his hat back on. “I caught them. They were at her house last night. In her room.”

“You...you caught them...having sex?”

He shook his head. “They’d just finished. He didn’t have a shirt on, and her hair was all messy, and she was in shorts and her bra.” He gave another of those harsh laughs. “At first they tried to tell me nothing happened, but then Drew admitted they’d been hooking up behind my back for a while now. So I punched him. He got one in, too, but his nose was bleeding so badly and Kennedy was freaking out...so I left.”

Poor Luke. Gracie gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. “I’m so sorry.”

Sorry his girlfriend was such a bitch. Sorry his best friend had betrayed him. Sorry he was hurting.

He turned his hand, linked his fingers with hers and squeezed back. “Thanks. I just... I feel like such an idiot, you know? For not seeing the signs sooner. For being so clueless. I had no idea. Pretty stupid, huh?”

He wasn’t the only one who’d been fooled. If anyone had thought something was going on between Kennedy and Andrew, word would have gotten back to Luke. Even after Kennedy had treated Gracie so badly in front of Andrew, Gracie had never considered the other girl’s meanness was due to her and Andrew hooking up behind Luke’s back.

She should have, she realized now. She should have guessed that the reason Andrew had pretended they barely knew each other was that he didn’t want Kennedy to find out they’d hooked up. That the reason Kennedy had been so rude to Gracie, had called her a freak, was that she was into Andrew.