“Why do people keep calling me a confused lesbian?” Lorelei complained into her morning coffee.

Jes looked up from their phone. “Well…?” Their hair still drifted upward from the sleeping cot. Where did they leave their hair gel?

“Well, what?” the blonde streaks crumpled around her shrugging shoulders.

Jes smirked, watching their cousin scrunch her face up in confusion. “Well… are you?”

The sigh was petulant more than anything, making Lorelei resemble more like a mouse than ever. “Obviously not. Not like with my exes.” Horrible references. Jes met them all: the Sleaze, the Sleeve, the Sparkly one, and then Steve. The woman had a curious taste. If anything, there was always just something that felt a bit performative in each one. It was her own business, but if Lorelei insisted in bringing it up…

“I wouldn’t know. I liked Steve.” And boy howdy, could that guy cook. And work. A memory of watching the surprisingly muscular man work through a firewood pile flashed forward. That amount of pure musculine, himbo energy would have made any of Jes’s party crew stop and stare. Across the board, Steve was the best.

“Ugh, everyone liked Steve. Even I still like him!” Lorelei slumped over the cold breakfast, picking at the bacon ends with a finger. “Just… I don’t know. Things never really felt quite right.”

Now Jes shrugged. What else could they say without casting their own aspersions? “Well. Why not?” There was another sigh, then a crunch of bacon. “Have you ever– You know…” Didn’t have the sexuality crisis over hangover brunch on their bingo card for the summer.

Immediately Lorelei turned red. “NO. Oh gosh, sorry too loud, I hurt my head.” They lifted their mugs in silence for a moment, desperately trying to avoid eye contact. Jes had popped a melon before the other recovered.

“I mean, I have tried. But um, I can never tell if they were flirting back. And even if they did, it was when drunk, and that didn’t feel right ever. I’d rather take them out on a date first before even kissing or holding hands. Then I get too anxious if they are too cute, or I babble on about rocks or some stupid shit I’ve read. Or I go quiet and they talk, then I have no idea what to do other than ask questions just so I can keep staring at them and their lips, and it gets awkward cause I feel them staring, or is it because they can tell I am nervous–“

Jes slowly placed their hand over Lorelei’s frantic left hand, settling it next to the plate. “Chill,” they stage whispered. “You’re good.” Yet their cousin was now staring off into the empty television screen. They looked across the table at the now empty mug. “Want some water?”

They didn’t wait for an answer, but stood up to get the pitcher from the kitchen. The faux wood tile still had traces of sand trailed in from outside. Sunlight played from the aquamarine feathered sun-catcher above the sink. They waited for the cold before refilling the pitcher.

When Jes returned, Lorelei was picking out the pineapple from the fruit salad. They poured into her glass, grunting at the thanks. Thankfully their coffee was still warm when they sat down.

“You don’t need to explain jack shit to me. Still love ya even if you were a worm.” The sugar heavy bottom was always a delight.

Lorelei tilted her head a bit. “I know. It’s just, you’re…” she wove a hand. “In the queer community, so I thought you’d be more. I don’t know, receptive? Know all the terminology and stuff?”

The coffee was dangerously low. Jes leaned over for the coffee press with a huff. “What do I look like to you, the Arbiter of Gay?”

Her cousin blinked. “Garbiter. Gay-biter?” Holy non-sequitur!

“Oi, lock in Missy!” Jes filled their mug then placed the coffee far away. “No more caffeine for you. Besides,” they slapped the table. “We’ve got a busy day ahead of us! There are dunes to climb, surfs to catch, sandwiches to build, chicks to wave at.” They watched their cousin sink into their seat. This time they didn’t stop from cackling. It was so easy to get Lorelei to emote.

Jes stood up, mug in hand, ready to start the day. Their palms were itching for their board. Maybe they could even skate down if they found the roller-blades from last year. “Get on the grub, and I’ll pack the cooler.”

Lorelei nodded, once again lost in thought. “If I don’t wear make up, does that still make me a lipstick lesbian? What if I wear chap-stick to the beach? Does that make me less of a lesbian? How do I find a carabiner? Or is it like a wizard wand where the right one finds you?”

Jes could feel their hair curl in agitation. They placed their hands on her shoulders and shook her back and forth. “Let’s go to the beeaach biiitch!” they pleaded, head dropping in mock exhaustion.

After rag-dolling, Lorelei popped right back up. “Right! Save the existential spiraling for later. Let’s get some sun biiitch!”

Together they high-fived before tearing through the bungalow. Nothing could ever stop for them outside of the summer haze of ocean. But that would never keep them from making the best of every precious moment they still had here. Jes tossed a jumble of lotions and towels into a bag, rushing past the kitchen grabbing an opener and napkins on the way.

“Last one out is a rotten egg!” Jes hollered as they stormed through the front door and into the warm morning sun with a shriek answering from behind. Life was, in fact, good.