"Bad movies have their moments," said Chris, hauling out a box and setting it on top of the car, glancing at Sheila and Riley. "Besides, they're still mine. I'm not gonna let 'em rot in the car and get all melted. It's too fucking hot here to leave this many in a closed car for that long."
When Riley asked for a second box, he raised his eyebrows - but she wasn't exactly ... okay, she looked built. He'd admit it. Her arms looked better than his did, and he wasn't just skin and bones, here. Still, though the threat of emasculation from the great gods of manliness on high loomed overhead, he handed her the second box and pulled another one out for himself.
"It's the beach," he said, probably interrupting whatever girly grandeur dreams the two of them were having over beaches. "It's always there. Not a huge deal, y'know?" Though it had been, back at home, since a real ocean beach was pretty much impossible ... but that was then. This was now. And he had four boxes to get back upstairs as soon as possible. "Come on, the faster we're in the faster we're done."