The Neon Nemesis was a bikini that lived in local legend. A shockingly bright, electric lime green triangle held together by dental-floss-thin strings. No one had actually worn it. It had been passed from trunk to trunk for three summers, a symbol of ultimate, unhinged bravery.
For the first time all summer, the air didn’t smell like competition. It just smelled like rain and lake water and the beginning of something neither of them had a name for yet. bikini dare
She reached out and, very gently, touched the absurd green string tied over his collarbone. Her fingers were cool from the lake. The Neon Nemesis was a bikini that lived in local legend
“You were scared,” he said, simply. “I wasn’t.” It had been passed from trunk to trunk
She was standing in the shallows, water lapping at her shins. Her carefully constructed cool had shattered. Her eyes were wide, not with the mockery he expected, but with a raw, naked wonder. She looked at him—not at the suit, but at him —as if she was seeing him for the very first time.