Micah froze, his head snapping back to look at Darcy in surprise, warm, damp sand clinging to his legs and back. His wide eyes were fixed on the young man behind him. For a moment, he thought he was hallucinating, but no, the boy clutching him was very real.
Micah blinked, staring at dishevelled Darcy. His black hair stuck up wildly, damp with sweat, stray strands plastered against his forehead. His eyes were bloodshot, his pale face filled with panic. His shirt and jeans were covered with wet sand. The sight was a mess, chaotic, out of place for the humid air of the coast.
Micah's bare back pressed against Darcy's chest. Their Legs tangled in the wet sand.
Their meeting was a disaster. Micah never thought the first time he would see Darcy after the truth might be known would be like this.
"Are you crazy? Why did you do this?" Darcy burst out. His chest heaved, his fists still clutching Micah's arms as if letting go meant losing him forever.
