But it doesn’t connect. Because the second the muscles in his arm twitch to reach for me, I take off running in the other direction, just like he did a few minutes ago. I barely hear him call after me, or the music, or the chatter of voices around us. I barely hear the ocean. All I can focus on is my breathing and the slap of my bare feet against the lava stone as I run, run, run, bend my legs, catapult myself forward…
New Olive is brave. New Olive is braver than she’s ever been.
And then I’m falling, but it’s slower than I expect it to be. It feels like I’m floating in the air, my stomach swirling up through my throat and nearly in my head, as the glittering ocean rises to greet me. Only one thought goes through my mind before the shock wave of hitting the water.Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit—
The crash of colliding with the sea is such a deafening roar in my ears that for a second I can’t hear anything. It’s dark and cool and bubbly and salty andwhich way is up and which way is down and oh my god I really hope I’m not smashed like a rag doll up against a rock and is that seaweed or a fish or a dolphin or a shark and and and and—
My legs kick at the current and my arms pinwheel unhelpfully until finally, my head pops above the surface, sticky tendrils of hair covering my eyes. I choke on the salty water as I come up for air, catching my bearings, being lightly tossed around by the ocean as I adjust to the sunlight and look up at the cliff’s ledge I just fell from.
Well…not exactly fell. More like a voluntary leap. Asmuch as the fear is still coursing through my veins, something else joins it there now, too—something almost like pride. Like maybe there’s something to taking these risks that Tyler swears by every now and then. The thought of the triumph makes me grin proudly as I start to tread along with the churning tide.
Up on the cliff ledge, Tyler looks like a mirror image of what I’m sure I looked like minutes earlier, eyes wide in shock, mouth popped into a panicked O. When he finally catches sight of me and sees that I’m okay, he whoops and throws his fist in the air triumphantly.
“That’s my girl, Olive!” he crows. “I knew you could do it!”
I let out my own shout of surprise, excitement rushing off my tongue like popping candy, feeling the familiar old rush of being calledhis girl.“I did it!”
He’s still grinning as he points in the direction of how to get back up top. “I knew you could do it. Perfect form, too. Sailed right off the edge.”
I slow my breathing as I paddle along with the current toward the shallower side of the cliffs, where Tyler climbed back to the shore after his own jump. The entire time, he’s walking parallel to me, shouting words of encouragement and grinning as we make our way toward the cliff’s entry point together, by both land and sea. I stay treading the water for a few extra seconds, relishing in the adrenaline high caused not by fear this time, but by accomplishment.
The water is cool against my sun-warmed skin, even in my soggy denim shorts and T-shirt. In a few minutes, I’ll be filled with sand and dampness and discomfort and regret, but for now, I’m floating. “That was awesome. I feel totally different.” And it isn’t only an expression. I reallydo.My blood is humming witha new energy, and my mind feels as clear as the water I’m paddling in. A year ago—hell, even anhourago—I would’ve never in my life considered jumping off a cliff. But I did it, and I’m alive, and I took a chance and I’m stillhere.
It feels like I’m buoyed by more than the salty ocean water.
Tyler’s looking down at me with absolute wonder on his face as he sticks out a hand to boost me up. “Olive Austin, I think you’ve just been reborn.”
“Tyler Ferris,” I retort as our palms lock. “I think I just became a different person entirely.”
Chapter Twenty-One
After the emotional rush of cliff-jumping, Tyler and I both agree that we need something way more low stakes, which is when he asks me if I’m up for another drive. When I retort that we’re already doing that, he shoots me a playfully stern look.
“A little bit farther this time,” he explains, slipping on his sunglasses as we coast down the road after toweling off. “There’s a cool little market I want to take you to.”
As we drive, I can’t help but take in the gorgeous scenery around me. Bordering the road are tall trees that Tyler explains are tropical pines that look like Christmas trees but a bit scragglier, their branches puffy with upright-standing needles. They wave to us in the ocean air as we drive by, the sun gently pulsing through the open roof, its warmth mixing with the slight chill of the wind rushing into the car.
This place is beautiful,I think in awe as my eyes catch on the various stop-off points with lookouts peering out over the vast, glittering turquoise ocean. I’d been on tropical vacations once or twice with Mom before, but the only places we’d ever gone were either in Florida or California—neither of which can holda candle to the breathtaking beauty of Hawai?i. It’s like a gorgeous tropical universe all its own, a shining gem in the middle of the Pacific. I can totally see why Lucas and Ella love it here.
It’s well past lunchtime, dipping into late-afternoon territory, when Tyler and I show up at the little outdoor market on the northern shore of the island, which has noticeably less traffic and tourists milling around. The wooden sign arching above the entryway reads Hukilau Marketplace. All around us, there are tiny huts and some larger-scale buildings boasting different tourist memorabilia, clothes, snacks, and more.
“The North Shore is where more of the locals live, since downtown is so commercialized now,” Tyler explains as we start walking. “And we’re actually not far from the Hukilau Cafe—that place from50 First Dates.You know, where Adam Sandler meets Drew Barrymore while she’s making those weird waffle houses? It wasn’t actually filmed there—the physical diner in the movie was fake—but that place is where they got the name from.”
“Really?” My heart soars excitedly at the thought, calling up the scene in my mind instantly. “We’ll have to drive past. That’s one of my favorite movies ever.”
Tyler smiles softly, almost to himself. “I know,” he says quietly. “I remember.” Which would make sense, since we watched it together no less than ten times.
We head toward the first stand, passing stalls of brightly colored fruit, leis, koa wood items, jewelry—you name it. But the stand we stop in front of has none of those things, only a bored-looking teenager and a soda machine, a menu propped up behind him.
“What’ll it be?” he asks in a monotone voice, so unlike the warm kindness of the other locals I’ve encountered so far thatit throws me off guard. But I guess teenagers are teenagers, no matter where they are in the world.
Tyler steps forward and takes out his wallet, taking the liberty of ordering for the both of us. Which is totally fine with me. It’s been a while since I jumped over that cliff, but I have a residual shakiness in all of my extremities, my heart still trembling from the impact. On the bright side, the trip over here with the sunroof and windows open dried off my damp clothes, so I’m already feeling much better.
“Two large Pepsis, please,” Tyler requests, squinting at the menu. “With vanilla and raspberry.” The teen nods wordlessly and spins around to grab the cups and get to work. While we wait, I watch tourists weave in and out of the other huts, arms laden with memorabilia to bring home. On their vacations without a care in the world. Not nursing a broken heart because of a lousy, emotionally cheating ex.
Although, as I think about it, my heart is feeling less broken today and more just…bruised.
Focus, Olive.
