"What are you doing?" I ask Dante as he sits down beside me.
"I'm not ready to go back to the party either," he says.
"It's your party," I remind him again.
"And most of the people in there are used to my parties by now. They know not to expect to see much of me."
I stare out at the dark surface of the sea as I consider this, tightening my arms around myself. And then I feel a weight coming down on my shoulders - his suit jacket.
"Don't argue," he says when I start to do just that. "You need it more than I do."
He's right, and I'm too cold and wet and miserable to argue. I pull the jacket closer, covering myself. I dig my toes into the sand and wait for him to speak. He's the one who insisted on staying with me - let him come up with something to say. I'm too busy trying to figure out how to extricate myself from this interaction gracefully.
"It's been a long time since we sat out here together," he muses finally.