Telling me had some sort of crush on me?
Dangling shit in front of my face I can’t have.
Adam picks up a couple of girls standing by the water ice stand. One of them keeps smiling at me and flipping her hair and Adam keeps elbowing me in the ribs. Panic rises up when she sidles in close, her sweet perfume in my nostrils, the smell of Cherry Coke on her breath when she leans in to tell me her name.
I barely hear it. “I’ve gotta go.”
I don’t wait for their reactions, I’ve just got to get out of here.
I can’t go home. Ma might be up and I can’t see her like this. Can’t let her smell the weed on me.
I head back toward the beach. The sound of the sea calling me over. The sand rough on the soles of my feet when I take my shoes off. The ground getting wet, soggy, squelching between my toes.
I take in a deep inhale, smell the salt water, the stink of fish and seaweed washed up on the shore. Nate’s face surfaces in my mind. His big Bambi eyes when I told him Ihad to go. How fucking vulnerable he looked telling me that shit. I wanna be mad at him, but I’m not.
I take my phone out, just to look at his name in my contacts. Nate fucking Castellani. Or is it something else now? I hit call, sure the roar of the waves will wash out his voice, but I can hear it. Clear as fucking day. Nate, saying my name.
I put the phone to my ear. “I’m at the beach,” I say before hanging up.
I’m so fucking tired. I clench my teeth and sit down on the sand, pulling my knees into my chest.
A calm washes over me as I sit and watch the black water, waiting for Nate. I know he’ll come. And that’s what fucking scares me. How quick that trust came back. Even that niggling voice in the back of my head telling me he’ll leave again is quiet while I sit there. But I can’t push down that giddiness at the knowledge that Nate wanted me back then. All those years, it wasn’t just a one-way thing.
The tires of a big car crunch on the gravel lining the beach, but I don’t turn around. I don’t even turn my head until he’s sitting right next to me. His smell overtaking the smell of seaweed and salt. Warmth coming off him in waves.
When I look at him, he’s looking at the sea, his face tense.
“Sorry I was a dick before.” My voice comes out sounding weird, like it doesn’t belong to me.
“It’s okay.” He shakes his head.
“It’s not.”
He stays quiet. Hands clasped over his knees. He’s wearing one of those backward caps. A polo shirt and chinos. Nikes so white they glow in the dark.
“You can’t just say shit like that.”
“Why not?” He looks at me andI look away.
“Because … you’re you and I’m me.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means … you’re not the boy next door anymore. I’m staying here, forever, I’m not goin’ anywhere.”
He blinks, frowns. “Does this mean you’re not mad I told you I’m bi, that I had a crush on you?”
Had? My stomach drops. I didn’t realize how much I was hoping that crush still stood until he told me it was in the past.
“No, I’m not mad about that.”
I swallow, force myself to say it. To tell him the truth. “I’ve been with guys, like that.”
His head snaps in my direction.
“A lot of guys,” I add.
“Oh.”
