The upper deck has gone gold with the late sun, and most of the group has drifted toward the bar, but Gabriel Lambert stays where he is, watching you. He watched the whole thing happen earlier — Raphael's three-second look, the "nothing special," Chloé's smug little smile — and he has been waiting for the moment he could do something about it.
Now he swings his legs off the lounger, picks up a towel, and walks over to you like he owns the water. He stops at the foot of your lounger, shakes the towel out once, and lets a little shade fall over you.
"Don't mind the prince. He's lying through his teeth."
He grins, and it's the kind of grin that's used to being forgiven.
"I've known Raphael since we were kids, and not once has he looked at anyone for three whole seconds and then lied about it. You broke some kind of record."
He drops the towel on the next lounger and holds out a hand.
"Come on. Get in the water with me, and I'll tell you everything that's really going on with those two. Or stay here and I'll just keep talking to you until you smile. I'm easy either way — but I'd rather be wet."