“Believe it or not, I find it hard to fit in. I’m either too much or not enough. Having you around the past six months has helped me not feel so alone, even if you were paid to be with me.”
The urge to pull her to my chest is so damn overwhelming, I almost do it. I ball my hands into fists to stop myself.
“You don’t need people like that in your life. From what I’ve seen the past couple of weeks, they’d be foolish not to want you as their friend.”
“You’re just saying that. I know you think I’m materialistic and shallow.”
“Materialistic, yes. I never thought you were shallow.”
“Superficial?”
“No.”
“Tell me what your real opinion of me is,” she challenges. “And no sugarcoating it. I’ll know if you’re lying.” She points a finger at me with a serious expression, and I hold back my laughter at her attempt to be authoritative.
“I think you’re gorgeous, smart, funny. Parts of your career make you act like somebody you aren’t, but I get why you do it. You’re playing the part your subscribers expect so they’ll keep watching.”
“I can’t decide if I should be insulted by that or not.”
“The real you…that’s what counts. Who you are for social media, that’s who you allow them to see. But you’ve shown me a deeper side, and I like being around that person, not the Piper Montgomery persona.”
“My whole generation grew up being online, constantly checking how many likes or subscribers we have, reading comments, and using that as a metric to validate our self-worth. It’s a hard habit to break,” she states with a hint of sadness in her voice. “It’s a vicious cycle of wanting to be liked and seeming valuable.”
“You don’t need outside validation, Piper. You’re more than enough without it. I might not be into social media and oversharing, but I can understand why you do. Validation from strangers will not make you a better or happier person.”
“You’re right. I thrive on it, and it’s one of my fatal flaws. It’s why I was so devastated about not being able to check or read what was being said about me. Regardless, it shouldn’t matter because this is my life, and I should be allowed to take a break without everyone thinking the worst of me.”
“Absolutely. The people you’re seeking validation from are always the first ones to throw you under the bus,” I add.
“Ouch, it hurts when you say it like that.” She blows out a breath as she contemplates my words. “I can’t wait to get online and tell them to mind their damn business.”
I chuckle when she laughs, loving the way it sounds from her mouth.
“So returning to our earlier convo, what about you? Dare I ask about any of your Fourth of July traditions?”
I slide my hands up her legs, not wanting to break contact but knowing I’ve covered every inch of her skin with sunscreen. After I set down the bottle, I move back to my towel.
“I’m not a huge fan. Let’s just say that.”
She furrows her brows as she looks over at me.
“Of traditions or just this particular holiday?”
“Fireworks,” I state. “It’s triggering. The first year I heard them after returning home, I had a panic attack. I try to avoid them if I can.”
“Oh my God, Tristan. I didn’t even think about that. I’m such an insensitive ass.” She sits up, adjusting her top. “We don’t have to stay.”
I shrug. “It doesn’t matter. I’ll hear them from in the house too, considering how close they’ll be.”
Piper frowns. “You can borrow my AirPods. They’re noise-canceling, so they should help drown out the sound.”
Leaning over, I cover her hand with mine. “It’s okay. I’ve gotten better at tuning them out.”
“We can leave before they start,” she reassures me. “And I’ll find something to distract you so you won’t even think about it.”
I grin, appreciating her concern and thought, but it’s too late. I hear gunshots in my sleep.
“Can we go in the water?” Piper asks thirty minutes later once her skin has baked. “I need to cool down.”
“I can’t submerge my prosthetic, but I’ll stand on the shore.”
“You can’t ever get it wet?”
“It’s water-resistant, like if it’s raining or water splashes on it, but it’s not designed to be submerged. It can damage and rust the various components. I’d have to wear a special prosthetic if I wanted to swim with one on.”
“So you’d have to take it off if you wanted to go in a pool or something.”
“Yes. But I’m not doing that out here. It’d make me too vulnerable in the event something happened to you.”
She pats my thigh. “Don’t worry, nothing’s gonna happen. My stalker would’ve already come for me by now because I’m just too irresistible.”
“Don’t make jokes like that,” I warn.
She sighs with an eye roll, getting to her feet. “C’mon, I’m going in, so you better come play lifeguard.”