“WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN?” Jackson shouts from beside me, his voice cracking on the last word.
“IT MEANS I’M DYING, JACKSON!”
We push deeper. The water climbs up my shins, my knees, my thighs. Each inch is a new level of hell. I can feel my dick retreating into my body seeking warmth, seeking safety, seeking anywhere that isn’t this frozen hellscape. I’m pretty sure that when I go to the hospital later, the doctor will find it hiding behind my liver.
“MY PENIS!” Gerard’s anguished cry rises above the din. He’s about ten feet to my left, water up to his waist, both hands cupped protectively over his crotch. “IT’S DISAPPEARING! ELLIOT, MY PENIS IS GONE!”
From somewhere on the beach, I hear Elliot’s distant response: “I WARNED YOU!”
“But I love my penis!” Gerard wails, and honestly, the grief in his voice is palpable. “Drew! Drew, can you feel your penis?”
“WHAT’S LEFT OF IT!” I shout back.
Nathan stumbles his way over to Gerard, gasping and sputtering. His pink hair is plastered to his forehead, and his lips are already turning blue. “Is shrinkage permanent? Please tell me it’s not permanent!”
“IT BETTER NOT BE!” one of the rugby players bellows. “I HAVE A DATE TONIGHT!”
The water hits my stomach, and I make a sound that can only be described as a dying walrus. Every muscle in my body clenches, trying to preserve whatever heat is left.
“We have to go under!” Oliver reminds us through chattering teeth. “Completely under!”
“Fuck that!” Kyle’s voice carries across the water.
“RULES ARE RULES!” Megaphone Girl’s voice echoes from the shore.
Jackson’s hand clamps around my bicep, five distinct points of heat cutting through the icy numbness. His thumb presses into the soft inner flesh where my pulse is hammering wildly. “On three?”
“On three,” I agree.
“One—”
We don’t make it to three. A wall of water slams into my chest, knocking the air from my lungs before I can even gasp. My feet leave the ocean floor as the current drags me under. Salt burns my nostrils and stings my eyes. The universe shrinks to a muffled, bubbling silence punctuated only by my heartbeat in my ears as I tumble ass over elbows.
As I spin and spin, every thought flees my mind except one.This was a terrible fucking idea.
Finally, I surface with a gasp. Jackson emerges a couple of feet away, his hair plastered to his head. We make eye contact for one perfect second, time standing still as the sun’s rays make the water droplets on his face shimmer. My breath leaves me for an entirely different reason.
My best friend isbeautiful.
And then another wave hits us, breaking the spell and sending me hurtling deeper into the bowels of the Atlantic. I return to the surface, coughing up a lung.
“HOLY SHIT!” he screams, and then he’s laughing. It’s a wild, unhinged kind of laughter that’s equal parts terror and exhilaration.
I’m laughing too. We’realllaughing.
The entire beach has descended into hysteria. Grown men are shrieking, splashing, clinging to each other like we’re survivors of a shipwreck. The baseball team has abandoned all dignity and is literally piggybacking each other toward shore. Two frat boys are hugging and crying. The soccer team appears to be praying.
As I paddle my way back to shore, a six-foot-five pillar of goosebumped muscle rises out of the sea foam. A guy screams, “It’s the Loch Ness Monster!”
Close, I think. It’s just Gerard.
“I did it!” he shouts with glee. “Elliot, did you see? I went under!”
“I saw!” Elliot’s voice carries across the shore. “Now get out before your balls fall off.”
We don’t need to be told twice. Those who didn’t chicken out of submerging themselves scramble toward shore. I can’t feel anything below my knees. I’m shaking more than a guy who’s been Tasered.
Jackson stumbles, and I grab him without thinking. His skin is ice against mine, but I hold on anyway, steadying him as we wade up the beach. His hand finds my waist, fingers digging in for balance, and even in my hypothermic state, my stupid heart skips a beat.
