He keeps taking photos. One after another. What is he even going to do with all those? He's probably going to post them on Instagram and throw a bunch of hashtags on then and let me know every time someone likes them. Or they'll just sit on his phone and he won't ever look at them again. Or he'll show someone sometime and they'll glance and smile politely and say, oh beautiful, and he'll keep scrolling through to find some more.

We should probably get more ice because those beers have been sitting all day. There's gotta be somewhere with ice around here. Though I don't mind it warm, too. They probably aren't too bad. And then we wouldn't have to hassle with driving around looking for ice. Or I could just open one of the warm ones and have it while we drive, I mean, no one's on these roads and it's just one anyhow, so it's not really a big deal.

I move to the car and grab one and open it. He's still taking pictures. I drink half of it while he's still looking out at the water. When he turns back, I ask if he wants one and he shakes his head. I can tell he'll still be awhile so I finish it off next time he turns around. He might be able to hear the next can open, but with the waves I think not so I open another and cough awkwardly, but he doesn't turn around or say anything so I don't think he noticed.

I don't wanna litter, but there's no garbage cans around so I dig a little hole with my foot and squat down like I'm tying my shoe, even though I'm not wearing shoes, as I stick the can in the hole. I kick a bit of sand over it. 

The sunset is almost done so I walk over, but before I do I take a big gulp, because I don't want it to spill. He shows me some of the photos he took. They are nice, but I don't say anything because I'm holding my breath; I feel a burp coming on. I manage to keep it away. I take another swig and now it comes, but he doesn't seem to notice. I'm ready when you are, I say.