Page 35 of Faking it with my Bad Boy Crush

"You're fighting for it because it matters." I moved closer, until we were standing in the tide pools, the water lapping at our boots. "Because your great-great-grandfather brought those recipes across an ocean. Because your grandfather spent his life building something that fed this community. Because you've taken that legacy and made it yours—not through obligation, but through choice and skill and relentless dedication. When I watched you at the farmers market and saw the way you knew everyone's names, remembered their usual orders, made them feel seen." I picked up a piece of driftwood that had been caught in the rocks. "You're not fighting to preserve the past, Maya. You're fighting to build the future. That's completely different."

"You see a lot," she said softly.

"I see you." The words came out more honest than I'd intended. "And I think—"

"Maya! Ethan!" Tessa's voice carried across the beach, bright and cheerful and completely destroying the moment. She jogged over, holding a trash bag that looked suspiciously empty. "How's the cleanup going?"

"Fine," Maya said, stepping back from me with professional distance. "We've found a lot of fishing line."

"Mmhmm. Fishing line. Very romantic." Tessa's grin was knowing. "Also, everyone on this beach is watching you two, just FYI. Emily Russell has binoculars. I'm not even kidding. Some people really need a hobby.”

I glanced back toward the main beach and caught at least five people quickly looking away. "Great."

"You should probably do something couple-y," Tessa suggested. "You know, to really sell it. Maybe Ethan could help you over that tricky rock formation? Very Prince Charming. Very swoon-worthy."

"We're fine," Maya said firmly.

"Are you, though?" Tessa looked between us with unsettling perception. "Because from where I'm standing, you both look like you're about to have a Very Important Conversation that you're desperately trying to avoid."

"We're cleaning up the beach," I said.

"Uh huh." Tessa's smile was wide and mischievous. "Well, carry on. I'll leave you to your totally-fake beach cleanup date." She started to walk away, then turned back. "Oh, and Ethan? You're a terrible actor. Just thought you should know."

After she left, Maya and I continued working in silence, the weight of interrupted conversation hanging between us. Even if we did admit that we’d broken the rules, that our feelings were real, what would it matter? One week and then I leave.

Except my career was already destroyed, which meant I had nothing waiting for me back in Seattle. And the woman picking through tide pools beside me—competent, brilliant, fiercely loyal to her community—was nothing like what I'd expected to find when I came back to Lopez Island.

"We should probably head back," Maya said, breaking the silence. "It's getting dark, and the rocks really do get slippery. We can’t let Richard’s revenge scheme work.”

"Right." I hoisted my trash bag. "Don't want you to fall."

She looked at me with an expression I couldn't quite read. "Too late for that, I think."

Before I could ask what she meant, she was already walking back toward the main beach, her ponytail swinging, leaving me standing in the tide pools.

The cleanup wrapped up around 7:30 PM, volunteers gathering near the parking lot for Richard's closing remarks. I found myself standing next to Maya, our shoulders almost touching, hyperaware of every inch of space between us.

"Great work, everyone," Richard called out. "We collected over two hundred pounds of debris today. The beach thanks you, the wildlife thanks you, and I thank you." He paused, his eyes finding Maya and me in the crowd. "And I want to give special recognition to Maya Romano and Ethan Caldwell. It's good to see young people investing in this community's future."

A small cheer went up from the crowd. Several people glanced our way with warm smiles. Emily Russell actually gave us a thumbs up.

Maya's hand found mine, squeezing gently. The gesture was probably for show, but my heart kicked up anyway.

"Want to grab dinner?" I asked quietly as the crowd dispersed. "There's that restaurant on the waterfront—"

"I can't." She pulled her hand away, and I tried not to notice how empty mine felt without it. "I have to prep for tomorrow's bake, and I'm exhausted. Rain check?"

"Of course."

She started toward her van, then turned back. "Ethan? Thank you. For everything.”

I watched her drive away, her taillights disappearing down the island road, and wondered when exactly I'd stopped pretending to care about Maya Romano.

"This isn’t going to end well, you know."

I turned to find Tessa standing behind me, arms crossed, her expression uncharacteristically serious.

"It's a business arrangement," I said automatically.